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I was fucking it up.
Suddenly, I understood that what had seemed like her lousy attitude and total lack of respect for me. It wasn't really about me. Or Becky really. The only one who really mattered in the situation was Jessica. Not that Becky and I were worthless. Just that our issues, both personal and with each other, came a distant third to the confused little girl who had just lost her mother.
I felt myself warning considerably to Becky, seeing her actions in a far more positive light. I knew I had been an asshole and had a lot of making up to do but felt a lot more optimistic, at least for the immediate future, while we were all stuck together on indefinite quarantine.
That still didn't explain what had happened at lunch. The steak I understood. Becky and I were trying to start again and put the mistakes of the past, mostly mine, behind us. Even the kiss made sense. Becky was actually really sensitive and empathized with my sadness. That much I could tell. She was trying to kiss the pain away. Which sometimes worked, particularly with emotional pain. It was what had come next that was so perplexing. Not only eating her pussy at the table but her quick exit after.
Maybe she was confused as I was. Though it wasn't like I was complaining. The whole thing had been consensual, if rather spontaneous, so there was no guilt there. And her pussy really was beautiful and had tasted really good, with a gentle note of genuine sweetness I had never tasted before. Almost like a delicious, natural ice cream.
Unbidden, I started imagining that sweet, delicious flavor blended with others. Whipped cream to start. Then strawberry. Then apple. My cock was getting hard, and my mouth started to water just considering the possibility. I may not fully understand how it had happened, but one thing was for sure. Should the opportunity arise again, I was definitely interested — hell, I was eager for a second helping.
Becky passed by the office then, because of course, she did. She was back in her usual tight clothes, her dark hair back up in her signature ponytail, bringing a glass of juice for Jessica in her playroom. Apparently, the invisible tea wasn't quite enough.
We caught each other's eye as she passed. I was a bit worried about how she might react. That she might be sad or evasive. Becky was a bit embarrassed, that much was evident by the way she blushed, but she also didn't look away, giving me a gentle smile. I returned the sentiment feeling much the same way, and then we both went about our business as though nothing had happened.
Though something had happened, I was starting to feel a real connection with the nanny I had once unfairly written off as little more than a controlling bitch. What was more, because of her, I had discovered why I was avoiding my poor little niece. Jessica reminded me too much of Simone. The pain of my sister's sudden, violent death being something I had yet to really deal with. I was unintentionally punishing her basically for being born, which was deeply fucked up on all kinds of levels. I had to make it right and connect with my niece if that was still possible.
Struck by a kind of inspiration that came up every so often, I started planning a sort of family game night for the following weekend. True, only Jess and I were actually related, but it was more about the spirit of the thing, and the game nights we would have as a kid were some of the few happy childhood memories I had.
Getting out a draft pad and a ten-thousand-dollar vintage fountain pen, a graduation present from Simone—I suspect she was trying to be ironic. I started making out a list of all the games that I knew I had in the house. Many of them close to family heirlooms.
Battle Ship, Clue, Trivial Pursuit, Twister.
I stopped at the last one, considering what it might be like to be all tangled up and intimate with Becky, her firm, warm body pressed up against me.
Yum.
Coming back to reality, I decided to leave the game on the list before going back through my mental archive jotting out every game I could recall, ending with the first edition Spirit Board from 1891. It was bought by my paternal grandmother, who was a bit of a Spiritualist back when it went through a minor boom in the Victorian era. Another black sheep of the Devon family. I think I would have liked her.
The list made, I picked the ones I thought would be the most fun for all of us and set about searching the massive house, which had been in my family since 1720, based on an Abbey-style estate back in Devon England, to find them. I was making my way back through the living room with the pile of boxes when Jess came running through giggling, Becky in hot pursuit.
