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dn’t read from here. But her arms were moving, and…
Then it dawned on me, and I put a hand over my mouth and leaned forward. That sound was the buzz of her toy I’d heard earlier today. Mackenzie was masturbating with her vibrator. My face flushed, and suddenly I felt like I was trespassing. I’d just listened to her conversation and sure, that was necessary, but now I was watching something private. I reached to turn the monitor off, but then I noticed how she arched her back as she got into a more comfortable position to pleasure herself. Her motions were quick and nimble, her small body manipulating the little toy with practiced skill. I didn’t tear my eyes away as I noticed her pulling her pajama pants down and off, and the next thing I knew, I was watching my future step-sister masturbate with a full view of her smooth, small pu—
No, this was so wrong! I heard the sound of a sigh, so full of simple, relaxed pleasure as her hands worked the light purple toy in her cunt in the same place where my sister might be doing the same thing at this age. The thought made my face go hot, and I gripped my chin and leaned in as I watched her go on.
Her small frame twisted and turned as she worked the toy, and I could see a faint smile on her mouth. She bit her lip periodically, and through all the pleasure in her expression, I zoomed in to see the occasional crease in her brow as she went on, as though she felt ashamed of what she was doing. I suddenly felt the need to reach out to her, to brush that stray lock out of her face and assure her that she didn’t have to be afraid of her sexuality, that it was okay. Then I realized her shirt was close to slipping off as her small hand reached up to stroke her nipple. It was supple and pink, and she moved her fingers around in small circles, turning her head upward against the soft pillow her golden locks rested on. I could almost see the pleasure ripple up her body as soft moans escaped her. I wanted to quiet her, to tell her that someone might hear if she wasn’t careful.
Her motions quickly became faster. I knew the look on her face, that helpless look of overwhelming sensation that was about to wash over her. She must have been soaking wet at this point, and I felt a pang of guilt as I realized that the thought was going through my head in the first place. But then I heard the sound of her vibrator grinding up against her clit, her body moving rhythmically with the motions of her arm, her narrow hips pushing up into the rhythm as her hand left her tit and gripped the sheets and—
“Ohhhh, Cole!”
I stared, frozen, as I watched her delicate, gorgeous, half-naked body shake with the orgasm that wracked her body, her face looking every bit as overwhelmed with pleasure as I wanted her to be…and she’d just moaned out my name as she climaxed.
She hadn’t been expecting it, either. As soon as she caught herself, I saw her face turn cherry-red, and as soon as the ecstasy flooding her body allowed her, she drew the vibrator away from her sopping pussy and stuffed it in the nightstand beside her after turning it off. She was breathing hard, and she bit her lip, glancing at the door to make sure nobody was looking. She exhaled deeply, and I watch her clamber under the sheets, trying to force herself to sleep. Even as she did, though, I could tell by the motions of the sheets that she was massaging her clit gently as she came down from the climax, her eyes closing to an uneasy pleasure.
I sat back, and it was only then that I realized that my own cock was rock-hard. My face must have turned as beet-red as hers, and I brought my legs together. There was no way, no way that I was going to let myself…let my body feel this way about my own step-sister. I just shut the laptop down and stood up to head to the kitchen. I was going to need another beer getting to sleep tonight.
A few days passed, and I kept up my watch as regularly as I needed to. Before long, I’d gotten her schedule down, and I could build mine around hers. I’d go out to get some groceries or get the motorcycle waxed, and by the time I got back, she’d be getting back about then. I found myself paying more attention to her habits. The way she swung her legs up in the air behind her while she laid on the bed to call Jessica, the subtle ways she expressed jealously or discomfort over the phone, the way she laughed, it all became pretty easy for me to pick up on. It was all the better to get some leverage on her, after all. If I could read her body language, I could get into her head, and if I could do that, then threatening her would be all the easier.
Coming to know her so intimately made me feel worse about what I knew I had to do, too. Her favorite color was lavender, her favorite song was an upbeat indie hit, and her favorite animal was a giraffe, and she drew a lot of them in her spare time. I wondered whether she was planning to be an art major, some of the sketches seemed so careful and detailed. I loved her like a brother should love a sister—like I’d always wanted to love Chelsea.
I hadn’t been hitting the club scene much at all anymore. I went out a couple nights after I’d first started watching Kenzie (she seemed to go by that more often, around Jessica at least), but it hadn’t felt the same. Every time a girl would start dancing with me, I felt a pang of guilt over not keeping an eye on the camera feed. After I got back home that night without even bringing someone with me, I spent some time browsing her social media sites to get a better idea of the kinds of things she liked. Once all this trouble with Dad was over, I thought a lot about what kinds of stuff we might do together—maybe go catch a few movies, or go to the fair that Chelsea and I had gone to a few times. I spent so much time getting to know her likes that when her mom sent me a message out of nowhere, I was caught completely off-guard.
Hey there Cole! I know we haven’t met properly, but I wanted to get a hold of you before the wedding. I know you and Todd don’t see eye to eye, but I really want you to be part of the family—your family. We’re going to be having dinner tonight at Le Blanc Fleur, the French place on 21st St around 8:00pm. I’d really like it if you made it, and I know Mackenzie would love it—she’s been talking about you to me nonstop, since she can’t talk to Todd. I’ll cover your dinner if you come! –Julie
My gut knotted, conflicted. The last thing I wanted to do was have dinner with my dad, to watch him weave his web of abuse around his new family firsthand, but on the other hand, this might be my chance to show what an awful person he was to them. In any case, I realized, I would look like a coward if I didn’t show up, and there was no way I was going to look like that compared to my dad. I tabbed back to look at the video feed again, and I saw Mackenzie trying on what looked like an outfit for the evening. There was a spark of excitement in her eye. Had Julie told her about inviting me to the dinner? Was that why she seemed excited? I felt a smile tugging at my face, and I got up to go dig out a suit for the night.
It was about ten after by the time I arrived at the restaurant. The place had a fantastic reputation, and the crowds to get in reflected it. I was wearing a tight-fitting navy-blue suit with an Egyptian cotton white shirt and designer loafers. More than a few eyes turned my way as I strode up to the front door, but the only eyes I was worried about were already inside, I’d guessed. Dad was always annoyingly punctual with his appointments.
“Oh, hello again monsieur,” the hostess greeted me in her Parisian accent with a bright smile as I entered. I’d met her the last time I came here with a group, and she’d ended up coming with us on the way out after her shift ended. I’d always regretted not getting her number before she left my place the next day. “I was starting to wonder whether I’d see you again! I believe I can find a seat for you and your party.”
“Thanks, Emilie, but I’m meeting a group inside. Should be under the name Van der Hausen.”
“Ah,” she raised her eyebrows knowingly. There weren’t many people I knew who didn’t know about the tension between my father and me. “Of course, right this way.”
Her long legs strode through the restaurant ahead of me as I followed her. She led me around a corner and into a small private room where the whole group was visible together.
Mackenzie’s eye caught mine first, and the light that sparkled in them made my heart soar. No matter what kind of hell my dad was about to raise by my being here, the fact that my showing up had made her happy made it all worthwhile. She wore a white eyelet sundress that showed off her beautiful form while maintaining a respectable modesty that befitted the restaurant. Both surprised and excited, she waved at me—I saw Emilie turn her head beside me—and at Mackenzie’s gesture, the rest of the family looked up.
Julie looked particularly grateful that I’d arrived, and she gave me a warm smile. She wore a lovely white evening dress not dissimilar from Mackenzie’s, albeit more modest, and accompanied by a pair of sapphire earrings that were undoubtedly my dad’s doing.
Then I locked eyes with him. He was dressed in a suit like mine, but his suit was pinstriped and his shirt green. His glare bore into me, and immediately I knew Julie hadn’t told him that she’d invited me. There was an awkward silence at the table for a few moments as the two of us stared each other down, and as Emilie finally decided to duck out, Julie rescued the situation.
“Cole! Thanks so much for taking my invitation, please, have a seat over here!”
“Thanks, Julie.” My response came smoothly, partly thanks to the look my dad gave her. I sauntered over to the chair across from Mackenzie next to Julie, and my dad looked like I’d just dropped a flaming bag of shit in front of him. I was already ruining his perfect night, and I loved it. Julie had clearly thought about how to parry the awkward silence that was about to follow.
“I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place?”
“Nah, I’ve been here a few times with some friends.”
“Oh, that’s just great! Kenzie, weren’t you talking about wanting to try that other French place we almost went to after that flight from Belize?”
Mackenzie joined in, and as soon as I’d sat down, the table had small talk going as easily as if I hadn’t even sat down, except for the fact of my dad seething
at his corner of the table. He did his best to cast stern glares my way, but whenever I caught a glimpse of one out of the corner of my eye, I’d just laugh at something Mackenzie said—which was easy enough—and keep talking as if nothing was the matter.
Dad must have felt humiliated by that eventually, because by the time the appetizers came out, he’d fallen into a begrudging resignation. Still, I could tell by his clenched jaw and the little vein in his forehead that he wasn’t going to let things go this easily. Right now, he was just biting his tongue to keep from blowing his cover in front of his new family. I recognized the mannerisms from whenever we had important relatives visit us.
