There were legal reasons Aunt Celeste wanted to know my state of intoxication. I'd just turned 18 and she just couldn't have underage drinking in her house. Also there were reasons of propriety. She was my mother's sister, and surely she had assured mom that she would keep me out of trouble during my visit. I was college shopping and my interview with the admissions dean was scheduled for the next morning.
"Nome ma'am" I slurred. I lied. I knew better. But Aunt Celeste should have known better than to leave her nephew at home with a full bar and no internet connection; no car for escape or a decent ballgame on the tube. She wouldn't miss a few ounces of dark rum would she? Probably not, but she could not help but notice the odor emanating from a splash drenched shirt and pants, my smiling but reddened eyes or my attempts to talk too fast with too little control of how the syllables came dribbling out of my mouth.
Not that her state was materially better. She'd been to one of those office functions where the main focus was on flirtations and libations, not necessarily in that order. So it was approaching midnight as she confronted me, not completely steadily, regarding my condition.
"God Matt, what would your mom think if she knew you were stinking drunk under my care. Yes, I know you're legally an adult, but legalities hold little sway over the way parents think (did I mention she was a paralegal?). You have to get cleaned up. What did you do? Spill the whole bottle on yourself?" That was unfair, it was only one drink, hardly the whole bottle. "Go on, get out of those clothes and take a shower. Geez, those are your good khakis aren't they? I need to wash them tonight so you can wear them in the morning. Next time, get drunk in your jeans, okay?"
Feeling lucky I'd gotten off so easily, I staggered in a near-somulent haze to the bathroom. I took off my shirt and khakis, but then got distracted. It was the mirror that caught my attention. I'd never been the he-man type, but the last several months I'd been working out in the hopes that would be to my benefit in impressing the girls. I'd gotten into the narcissistic habit of admiring my developing biceps and pecs whenever a mirror reflected their image to me. I was posing, half dozing, and liking what I saw. I lost track of time looking at my own body clad only in my underwear, until I heard the near simultaneous knock, turning of the knob and chiming of Aunt Celeste's voice.
"Matt, you okay? I don't hear any water running." She was not peeking in, just speaking through the crack of the door.
"Yessum. I'm fine." I didn't know what else to say.
"Well, go ahead and hand me your dirty clothes. I can't wait all night to do the washing."
Now I was proud of my new body, but had never thought of using it to show off anywhere but the beach. So as I picked up my clothes to hand to Aunt Celeste, I positioned myself so the door would block off her view. I pulled the door open and handed my clothes to her through the enlarged opening, feeling duly modest. There was a silence I didn't understand at first. I felt Aunt Celeste grab the clothes, but as of yet she had not taken full possession of them. It was as if everything was frozen.
It felt like an eternity, this hazy interlude, so my eyes unthinkingly went back to their normal gazing spot, the mirror, where they hoped to catch the slight ripple of muscle mass caused by the isometric handling of the clothing. The mirror surprised me again. There, in addition to my own reflection, I could see the puzzled face of Aunt Celeste, her eyes evidently also scoping out my torso. I was drunk so it was hard for me to tell if that was the slighest of blushes that filled her cheeks, but she quickly looked down, grabbed my clothes with authority and made some sort of apologetic grunts as she quickly sped away, the door pulling shut after her. Somehow, in the muddle that was my brain at that moment, I got the idea she had been staring at my near nakedness.
After the shower, my bed spun only modestly as I tried to get some sleep. But my alcohol level was past the point of being a seditive, and was actually keeping me from sleeping. My brain was active in a disjointed way. I kept seeing Aunt Celeste's face in the mirror. She had not had a look of horror on it; it was something else. Her's was an inquisitive look. Even a look of appreciation. And I found that I liked the feeling I got when I thought of her looking at me like that. I know it was only because I was drunk, but damn, it was exciting to think she saw me near nude. But the residual alcohol kept me from getting a full erection and I knew that I'd have to skip my near nightly ritual of wanking myself off. But still, I put it in the back of my mind that someday I'd have to wank off thinking about Aunt Celeste looking at me like that.
And that night, I thought of Aunt Celeste in ways I'd never thought of her before. She was nearly ten years older than my mother, a divorcee, and her kids were already married and out of the house. She was still attractive for a near 50ish lady, but I'd never before let my imagination get past her normal attire consisting of a blouse and skirt, or on more informal occasions, jeans and a flannel shirt. She just had never before been on my radar screen as anything other than my aunt, my mother's older sister. But that mirror had revealed another secret. Aunt Celeste, probably not expecting to actually see me, nor of me seeing her, had been wearing a nightgown. A jade green, knee-long, thin-strapped, form-hugging piece of material that plunged between her breasts whose curves were outlined enough to give the most brain-addled boy plenty of ammunition for sensuous imaginary exploits. But damn, she was old, and my aunt! But still . . . Shit, I was drunk, why else would I be thinking of her like that?
***
It was another knock, a light one, but this time on the bedroom door. I knew instinctively it was too early, and a quick peek at the alarm clock showed it was barely past 6 a.m. Grumpily, I feigned sleep. The door creaked open and I heard a soft voiced "Matt, you awake?" I didn't respond, but my eyes slitted open just enough to see Aunt Celeste standing in the half opened doorway. To my early morning dismay, she was wearing a robe. She had my cleaned and folded clothes in her hands and made her way to the dresser where she laid them down. Then she turned toward me and once again, and in an almost whisper, said, "Matt." I didn't respond, but continued my possum play and watched as she stood there a few seconds more, staring. I then realized that the bedsheet was only half covering my torso. Was she really staring at my chest again? I fought to keep my pulse under control at the realization.
Then I almost lost it. Aunt Celeste walked toward me and then sat on the side of the bed and gently shook my arm trying to rouse me, apparently convinced by my possum act that I really was asleep. "Matt, I'm sorry to bother you this early, but we need to talk about last night before I leave for work, and get the arraignments made for your trip to the college later today." I let my hands rise up to rub my eyes, but made no attempt to cover my half revealed chest. My heart was starting to pound, but I didn't know what to do.
"I'm sorry Aunt Celeste, about last night. I would never do anything to embarress you." I was thinking too quick. But I still laid back, acting as if I didn't realize my nakedness. She didn't do anything to cause me to think otherwise.
"I know Matt. But it's a serious matter. But it's also my fault, for leaving you alone. I guess I haven't been a good host. I won't do it again. And tonight, I'll teach you how to have a proper cocktail, as a celebration, without letting you get so drunk you spill it on everything. I won't tell your mom, not out of any sort of honor, but because it would make me look as bad as it would make you look." We laughed a little at that, I propped myself on my elbows, being a little more alert, and knowing full well that I was enjoying the moment when I spied Aunt Celeste's eyes run over my body. "But you have to promise me, you will stay out of my liquor cabinet until I get home tonight. Promise?"
"Yes ma'am, I promise."
"And anyway, I was a little juiced myself when I got home, so I guess we are equal in a way. That was unfair of me. I should have stayed home."
"You don't need to apologize. I was the one breaking rules, not you."
She grabbed my nearest hand and gave it a little squeeze. You are so sweet Matt, Thank you. And I must say, you are getting to be very handsome. Do you have a girlfriend?"
Damn, now I had to feigned that I just realized my near naked state and pulled my sheet up to cover my chest as my head leaned back on the pillow. Still, my shoulders and upper chest, to just above my nipples, remained exposed. Aunt Celeste was smiling. Not a big smile, but a warm one. "No ma'am. I guess I'm kind of shy. That's what mom says."
"Well, as handsome as you are, the girls at college will work you out of that shyness in no time." Then silence. She just sat there with that smile, looking at my face, wondering what to do. I wondered too. "Well, I guess I should go take my shower," she said. Then she switched subjects, not really ready to leave. "I really didn't mean to be nosy when I opened the bathroom door last night. In your state, I was afraid you had fallen asleep on the floor."
"That's okay, I should have been in the shower. Was just slow in taking my clothes off I guess."
"Like I said, you are very handsome. I didn't realize you had been working out."
"Really? You can tell?" Now my vanity was getting me again.
"Yes, you should keep it up. Very nice definition to your muscles."
"So you think the girls will like me like that?"
"So long as you don't go overboard, they'll love it. You shouldn't be ashamed to show off a body like yours Matt. If mine was as toned as yours, I'd be flaunting it to heaven."
"From what I can tell, yours is perfect for a woman your age." I could have kicked myself. Why did I have to reference her age? But Aunt Celeste was focused on the compliment, not the condition.
"Well, I'll never be the stuff of a young man's fantasies, I mean fancy, again." Her face colored at the slip up. So she had reddened at seeing me the night before. And now she was speaking in terms I would have never dreamt of just sixteen hours earlier. And I was reacting to it in ways I never would have thought possible.
"Sure you can be. Guys my age like older women these days. I'm sure some of my friends would love . . ." I had no idea how to finish the sentence. But I didn't need too. Aunt Celeste's face turned an even deeper crimson and she laughed off the tension. But she made no move to leave.
"Oh? Have you ever fancied an older woman? . . . Forget I ever asked that Matt, I'm forgetting myself," she laughed even harder. I could detect a trembling of manicured fingers.
"Of course I do, oh wait, forget I ever said that, I'm forgetting myself." We both laughed at the tease.
"Oh really? How old?" Her smile was still present, but the laugh gone.
"Up to your age," I said looking directly in her eyes.
