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He praised me so much at home, too. A lot of me always believed he was constantly telling me what a good girl I was or how good I was doing because he was trying to be both a Daddy and a Mama, to make up for mine being gone. But now I know it's just because he was a very, very good man.
My Uncles got tears in their eyes around the table that night, and it made me sad for them, too. Because he was my Daddy, my world, sure, but I think he was the sun in their skies, too.
After that night, we’ve been talking more freely about Daddy and not avoiding the tears. Something about being in a room of people who love and understand you feels so safe. I know Miss May loves me and understands, but it wasn’t the same. She was always trying to get me to stand, whereas my Uncles, they’ll let me fall if I need to but be there to stand me back up, too.
I’ve cried a lot the last two weeks. I checked the mail a few days back and got a magazine for Perry Praise. It set me right off. I ran down to the Live Oak at the end of the drive, the very same one where I first learned to climb trees, and I climbed it until my hands and feet were raw. And I sat up there and cried, missing him more than I ever had in the last year. Funny isn’t it? A magazine set me off. But it did.
When the sun started to melt and the heat of day gave way to the cool of evening, my Uncles came and found me. Uncle Holden climbed all the way up, told me to hold on real tight to him, and climbed all the way down.
Holding tight to his body, with my nose buried in his neck, our chests rubbing together with every long stride he took, Uncle Rhett and Uncle Banks’ rough voices wrapping around me as they chatted quietly– by the time we were back in the house, I’d forgotten all about that magazine. Uncle Holden lowered me to a chair and the three of them, right there in the kitchen, cleaned up my aching feet. The way those six big, rough hands soothed my aches and carefully bandaged me up–I’m ashamed to say it because ladies don’t say things like this but… I did things to myself that night.
Thinking of my Uncles.
I slipped my hand in my panties, remembering how Uncle Holden smelled like mint leaves and green apples, but shaving cream and motor oil, too. I felt that tingle between my legs, the one I get before I have to lock my door and do things to myself. When I rubbed and found myself sticky and swollen, I remembered how it felt when Uncle Rhett ran the backs of his knuckles along my cheek, taking away my tears. I found that electric explosion as I thought about Uncle Banks combing my hair to get it off my face, how it felt to have those thick fingers dragging through my locks.
I’m a bad girl for thinking those things about one of ‘em, but all three? I could hardly look at ‘em the next day.
But it’s been a couple of days, and I can’t stay away from them. And now, this morning, I’ve been anxiously lying awake in bed, just waiting for my alarm to go off so I can get up and see them.
I’m so glad they’re here. Miss May and I have been talking everyday and she says they’re gonna teach me to cook and run the house, even though we have a chef. She said it’s important for a woman to know how to cook, and I’d love nothing more than to surprise them with a nice meal and warm pie.
We’re starting cooking and checkbook balancing lessons today.
The alarm finally goes off, and I turn it down real quick, swinging my legs off the bed faster than Christmas morning. Before I step into the hall, I stop in front of my mirror. Never gave much thought about my night dress until this morning. Long, white, real gauzy and comfortable for a Southern summer–it’s also… mighty sheer. I bite into my bottom lip as my dark nipples become visible from beneath.
I know why they’re getting hard and showing off. I can’t stop thinking about my Uncles.Naughty Clem. I turn back and look at my bed, rumpled sheets and upturned pillow. The place where I touch myself and whisper their names and wonder, so guiltily, what theirthingslook like.
Stop this Clem. They’re your Daddy’s oldest, most best friends. They love you like a daughter.There. I tell myself that, push my long braid over my shoulder, and step into the hall with the mind to quit being silly.
Chin held high, I head down the hall to the stairs, ready to make coffee and biscuits for them before they wake— coffee and biscuits are about all I can make.
But as I near the door to the hall bath, I stop. I don’t wanna stop, I don’t. But my feet aren’t mindin’ me. One of my Uncles–they’re in there. Relieving themselves.
My heart starts beating wild, like a horse’s hooves after he’s been whipped by his rider. That’s…. It sounds like someone got a hose in there, watering the toilet! I bite my lip again and so help me God, if I keep biting my lip like this, it’s surely gonna bleed. But if I don’t bite my lip, I think I may actually moan.
Clementine! Moaning while you’re listening to one of your Uncles pee!Guilt sneaks up my spine, hot and sweaty, but still, my feet don’t move.
Because that’s so loud and… all I can think about is the size of the thing makin’ that noise!
I’m about ready to force those feet of mine to go so I don’t get caught but before I can, Uncle Holden appears in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. His hair is mussed up from sleep and his eyes are still a bit puffy. I can't help but smile at his morning appearance and the way it fills my veins with warmth, warmth that pools right between my thighs.
“Mornin’ Clem,” he says through a yawn, where his eyes close and he brings his big capable hand to his mouth. But I am a woman, an inexperienced woman but a woman all the same. And I can’t help myself; my lonely, hungry gaze falls to those boxers andoh my.
Oh.
My.
That thing in his boxers must be the size of darn Anaconda if it’s even an inch. My tummy burns and my panties get real warm and wet right then.
“Making coffee and biscuits,” I tell him, walking past so he won’t see the red in my cheeks. I cannot believe myself.
Not just looking, but for wanting to see more.
ChapterFour
I’ve been pacing my bedroom all darn mornin’, not sure what to do.
I’ve prayed on it. Been on my knees by my bed each and every night, hoping that these urges go away. But every day I spend with my Uncles, where they’re showing me how to grill, explaining how taxes are done, writing a list of what bills get paid when– all of it only makes that flutter in my panties more intense.
