So the first one involves a woman named Carla who is about to engage in an incestuous, and potentially abusive, relationship with her nephew. So triggering warning! This one is unfinished and I doubt that I will ever complete it. There may be some weird text and background colors and hyperlinks. I will try to remove them as I copy and paste.
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Carla found herself in a dark and dimly lit hotel reception oom, music blasting as party guests danced the night away. The space had been reserved for the wedding after party, the wedding itself already a faint joyous memory one could relive in photographs and video recording. She was a mix of emotions: happy for her sister and her new husband; excited to see family and friends gathered in the celebration of new beginnings; and, unfortunately, dreading the prospect of picking up an unsuspecting fellow like an opportunistic divorcee. Of course she was an opportunistic divorcee and she had been down this road more than once before. But she felt rather bitter about it in light of her sister's new found joy. Not that anyone cared but she felt a bit like a vulture, although she did very little scavenging herself at these sort of events. She dazzled men effortlessly sporting shoulder length curls, a curvaceous form and large brown eyes.
Purples and greens were often her shadows of choice, providing her irises with an almost fire-like glow. Some of her paramours likened her to Beyonce, Marilyn Monroe, and even Liz Taylor, women having an art for wearing their sex and passion like a glove. Carla felt she had no such talent but who was she to deny a compliment. She liked sex and romance. She liked her single life. But she wondered if she would remarry, now approaching her forties and with no nuptials in sight. She pressed her knees together while seated at the bar, straightening the skirt of her blue bodycon dress. She rose her palm to request another mixed drink from the bartender. Long Islands were her usual poison but she indicated to the barkeep that she would like to be surprised. She laid a twenty dollar bill on the bartop, catching the bartender's eye with a smile. He grinned while gifting her with a sunset hued beverage.
She rose the glass to her rose painted lips, tasting a hint of peach on her tongue. She grinned coyly to the bartender and nodded her approval. "And what do you call this?" He smiled handsomely wiping the counter down with a wet towel. "Haven't got a name, it's my own specialty," he quipped with a waggle of his brow. Carla hummed to herself in amusement while taking another sip. "I see, well I rather enjoy it--peach drinks are a weakness of mine." Carla chuckled to herself, maintaining eye contact with the barkeep. He looked like he was about to say something more just as another patron waved him down. He nodded toward the person but seemed reluctant to part with Carla. "I thought as much," he surmised briefly. "But just hold that thought," he said suggesting a promise to engage her at a later time. He winked as he walked off to the side. "Ok," Carla replied as she turned her attention toward the people on the dance floor. In the distance she could see her nephew and what seemed to be a group of friends gathered around a table. They appeared to be chugging down drinks, perhaps to gather the nerve to dance like idiots.
She felt a little concerned, not sure if he would get in trouble considering his age. "Guess they didn't consider pre-gaming before arriving, not with the prospect of free alcohol." Suddenly she felt rather familial. She stood up from her seat and made her way over to his table. She took her glass with her not wanting to throw caution to the wind just yet. She would humor the bartender at a later time. There was always time for that. "Hey nephew," she called out to him. "You and your boys seem to be going at it a little hard, don't you think? Why not cherish the buzz a little; trust me, your liver will thank you." She giggled to herself betraying the fact that she was a little tipsy. But she was a legal adult, she could handle herself. Her nephew on the other hand seemed a little out of his league. "You're dressed too handsomely to be looking shit-faced at your mom's wedding." She motioned to brush down his tuxedo with her hand, seeing the fabric was starting to wrinkle.
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"Well someone has to be an adult," she replied jokingly. "And you're not getting far with that sort of flattery, however, I do appreciate the compliment." She smiled prettily and took a seat next to him, figuring she should spend some time with the kiddies. Of course not long after taking a seat it appeared the booth was soon deserted, save her and her nephew, Jacob. With just two of them at the booth Carla became a little more aware of Jacob's gaze. She thought it somewhat unlike him to admire her so publicly. Perhaps it was the drink's persuasion. Of course it wasn't strange for a nephew to call his aunt beautiful, she just found the gesture a tad uncharacteristic. She looked at him warmly feeling quite happy for him and his new father. The two were very handsome men. She considered her sister lucky to have them both. It suddenly dawned on her that he had casually placed a hand on her leg, asking about her drink. She gaped at him openly, raising a brow in question. Now he seemed to be getting fresh with her. "Well, it's peach flavored; it doesn't have an official name according to the bartender."
She took a shallow sip of her drink, catching a whiff of his whiskey. She set her glass down and gave him an incredulous look. "How much whiskey have you had tonight?" she queried, pinching his hand with her fingertips. She whistled in awe of his strong taste. "Jacob, you really need to be careful . . . you're drinking enough to self-medicate." She pursed her lips together and stared at her manicured nails for a moment. "Are you feeling upset about something?" Carla knew from experience how comforting alcohol could be. It had the added bonus of making some experiences even better, though in moderation. She scanned the room briefly, spotting her sister and her husband at the center of the dance floor, basking in the afterglow of wedded bliss. They seemed rather happy while their kid seemed like he didn't want to be there. Carla offered the remains of her glass to Jacob, sighing exasperatedly. "It's not as strong as whiskey, but I would rather you had something a little lighter on your stomach. I don't want you to get sick."
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"That's too much," she pointed out with a playful grin, accepting the glass to prevent him from imbibing even more. She braced herself as she tossed back a quarter of the drink, crinkling her nose as it stung the back of her throat. "God," she barked in surprise, "I really don't know how you can handle this." She almost didn't hear him when he described his step father as a lecherous man. She was briefly distracted from his hand continuing to fondle her leg. She giggled to herself, the whiskey beginning to compound on her state of drunkenness. She drank more of the whiskey and pondered what he had told her. "So, my sister knows nothing about his arrests?" she questioned sardonically wondering how her husband's permanent record did not once come into question. She felt comforted in the thought that he did not pose an immediate danger to her sister. But infidelity was not something she wanted Rebecca to experience; it had been the breaking point of her own marriage. "I guess Rebecca and I are somewhat unlucky in that respect," Carla grumbled while humorously bumping her shoulder against her nephew.
She looked quite apologetic when he reminded her of his allergy, touching a hand to her chest in earnest. "No need to thank me, Jacob, I nearly killed you." As she took another swig of whiskey she felt his hand skirt along her inner leg. She nearly spat out her drink in surprise. With a dazed look in her eyes she stilled his hand by placing a palm over his. Her vision beginning to blur she gawked at his chest, not sure if she could maintain an eye-level gaze without looking unbalanced. She felt alarmed that he had ruffled her feathers so to speak. She could feel her heart beat picking up, her breaths coming out in whiskey scented pants. She swallowed a gulp, thinking it best to end whatever this was before he started to impact her further. "Jacob, dear, I don't think you're aware of yourself . . . perhaps you should retire for the night." She realized with a growing sense of dread that this exchange was beginning to excite her. She had yet to lift his hand which was perilously close to the hem of her garter. "I may actually need to leave myself, seems I left your mother's wedding gift in my room," she admitted with a sheepish grin.
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She didn't expect him to continue teasing her leg but he did so in spite of the weight of her palm. She tried to pull her arm away, wanting to relinquish his hold on her. His grip was firm and in her condition she only succeeded in drawing herself closer to his frame. She stared at him in wonder, knowing it would be a bad idea if he accompanied her to her room. But in the back of her mind she hand the faintest curiosity as to what might transpire behind closed doors. "I-I should be fine, J-J-Jacob," she stuttered with slurred speech, now becoming increasingly more aware of his proximity and his intent. "You can stay if you want, I was only worried about you. But I definitely need to go." She simpered in his presence, but her smile slowly faded into an agape expression as he leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck. Her breath quickened in horror and excitement as his lips trailed up to her ear.
He teased her regarding her drunkenness but she could barely process his words. Her cheeks were flushed with heat and she rubbed her thighs together, not exactly understanding the way her body was reacting. Jacob was her nephew. She had known him since he was a baby and now he was a bright and handsome young man. She couldn't fathom why he would be doing this to her. She tried once again to disengage herself from him as she became aware of his mouth and tongue at her ear lobe. "I really need to go," she panicked, clumsily removing herself from her seat. She nearly knocked over the half-forgotten glasses on the table. She paused scanning the room, hoping they had not drawn any unnecessary attention to their booth. Certainly no one could hear them over the loud music and the room was too dark to identify either of them clearly. They could easily be perceived as perfect strangers. But Carla was all too aware of their relatedness. Her body seemed to betray her, however. She wanted to escape, to deal with her increasingly indecent thoughts in private. She motioned to leave through the throng of dancers, no longer looking her nephew in the eye for fear of what he might see.
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Carla's vision became less clear as disco lights and gyrating bodies began to blend into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. Her breath quickened as she brought a hand to her head, blinking rapidly to dispel her muddled vision. Jacob helped steady her by placing his hands at her sides. She almost appreciated the gesture inspite of his opportunistic behavior. She pressed her back against his shoulder for balance, conceding that the trek to her room would be arduous without help. She really had no choice in whether he stayed with her or not: he would not accept her refusal. His wicked phrasing urged her to quicken her step as an agonizing heat colored her face. She wished she could ignore the meaning behind his obscene statement. She wanted to believe that he was just toying with her, falling prey to the whims of his drink. How could he possibly see her as anything other than a loving aunt? Why did his present demeanor seem to betray her relation to him? "Jacob, please, don't say that," she implored weakly, "you're just drunk, you don't know what you're saying."
Perhaps it was easier to blame the alcohol instead of holding him accountable. Already he had groped her beneath a table and left a trail of kisses down her neck. She shouldn't encourage his performance, yet she seemed strangely unable to order him to stop in no uncertain terms. She squinted her eyes at the blaring lights of the hallway outside the reception room. She shielded her eyes with her hands while Jacob led them toward a nearby elevator. The elevator faced the reception entrance from just across the hall. With Jacob's assistance Carla managed to remain on her feet without a single misstep. Upon arriving at the elevator she lowered one hand to press the fifth floor button. Haphazardly she pushed more than one as her hand slid across the number dial. "Great," she muttered beneath her breath. She sighed in embarrassment, shrugging her shoulders as she turned to speak with her nephew. She felt a tad insecure facing him so she settled for staring at a wobbling view of his lips. She seemed to gawk at his mouth with her lips pressed together; her eyes averted to his gaze instead but that did nothing to improve her speechlessness.
The affection in his eyes was a little unnerving. Why did he have to look at her like this? Like he was infatuated with her . . . "Oh, oh my," she gasped, suddenly realizing what his true intent may have been. The opening of the elevator door provided her an opportunity to turn away from him as she stepped inside, his body following closely behind hers. She faced the back of the elevator, its metal wall reflecting a cloudy likeness of Carla and Jacob, with his hands still pressed at her hips. She suddenly felt very naked in his embrace. She lowered her head and folded her arms around her bosom.
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Carla's breathing normalized as the elevator car began its ascent. It wouldn't be long before she entered her secure and private hotel suite. She worried that Jacob might wish to join her for the sole pleasure of driving her further into madness. He seemed to be doing a good job of it thus far. She was too weak and intoxicated to physically resist him so there was nothing preventing him from barging into her room. She gave him a sideways glance before lowering her eyes to her trembling arms. There was still time to plan an escape, a distraction, just something to place distance between him and herself. "Jacob, please just listen to me," she pleaded in a quiet voice, her jaw taut with tension. Unfortunately before she could finish her statement the elevator came to an abrupt halt, driving her forcefully off balance. She lurched forward, nearly faceplanting into the back wall of the carrier. Dazed and confused she shot her nephew a withering look from the corner of her eyes. Her pupils dilated in horror at what she saw--Jacob's fist slammed against the emergency pushbutton. He was preventing the car from reaching its destination.
Her body shuddered under his weight as he flattened her against the wall. His lips grazed her skin in a tantalizingly slow manner, summoning a pained moan from her lips. She panted fearfully as the confined space of the elevator car magnified his presence. He seemed to occupy the air in her lungs, the sweat of her brow and even the fabric of her dress and undergarments. In her mind he was becoming more and more like a beast that wished to devour her whole. If she could even hope to reason with him she would need to offer him something, make him feel as though he was already the victor. His hands stroked the fabric covering her hips, kneading her flesh tenderly but in an unpracticed manner. Maybe this was his first time doing something of this nature. Under that assumption perhaps she could bargain with him; she needed an opportunity to call for help using the emergency phone. She arched her neck higher as he came within an inch of kissing her mouth.
She peered directly into his eyes, her hands massaging his chest as she slowly drew them up the length of his shoulders. One hand needled through his hair while the other caressed the back of his neck. With great trepidation she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. Warm breaths wafted over his lips as she contemplated her next words carefully. "Jacob, it's hard for me to relax in such a cramped space," she murmured in a soft and hushed tone. "It's uncomfortable, my legs are tired." She cautiously drew one of her legs between his thighs, her head laid against the wall of the elevator. Her eyes fell timidly to the collar of his tuxedo as she did not wish to see his expression as she stroked his crotch with her thigh. "Maybe I can help you to relax . . . you've been spoiling me all night." She giggled weakly, a tiny smile spreading across her face. She swept her palm around the corner of his ear, her fingers tracing the networks of cartilage. "Is there some way I can help you relax?"
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Carla's eyes widened in astonishment as her nephew enveloped her lips in a feverish kiss. She felt deprived of air, her fingers desperately clawing into his shoulders. This was not the outcome she had been expecting. She mentally reprimanded herself for attempting to bargain with Jacob for her release. Although he saw through her scheme he seemed to offer her one small victory by permitting the elevator car to ascend to the fifth floor. The elevator managed to stop twice in route to its destination. Each time no one stood on the outside waiting to be transported to the another floor. Each time the metal doors closed Carla had even less hope of getting away. She had no space to maneuver around Jacob. He eliminated the remaining distance between their bodies when he kissed her, drawing his chest toward her bosom with his legs straddling her right thigh. She pressed her palms against his chest, attempting to push him away as she squirmed beneath him. She kept her lips closed to deny him her compliance. Mistakenly she took one moment of respite to take in precious breaths of air. This allowed his tongue entry as it beat against the roof of her mouth, his breath pervading the hollow nook of her throat.
Perhaps it was because she was drunk, but suddenly she felt sharply aware of his wanton desires. His breath tasted like sex, summoning fervent moans from the back of her throat. Her voice was swallowed by his mouth as he grazed her lips hungrily. She was beginning to lose focus and energy, her protests becoming minor pushes and shoves. She took a sharp intake of breath as she felt his hand crawl beneath her dress. She tried to yank his arm away but the effort was futile. She reflexively gnawed on his lower lip, her breasts craning over the top of his chest as he fondled her genitals. Each stroke of his fingers was magnified thanks to the alcohol in her system. She captured his arm in a feeble grip as she felt a growing warmth at the base of her torso. She felt mildly embarrassed that he was beginning to unravel her in such a public location. Carla didn't realize they had arrived to the fifth floor until the elevator doors opened rather abruptly. A young woman wearing unicorn print pajamas stood out front, her foot hammering the ground in an impatient manner.
Her eyebrows rose in confusion at the shameless display before her eyes. Carla acknowledged the woman with a bashful expression, her eyes unfocused and clouded over with lust. She could do nothing to untangle herself from her nephew and appeared reluctant to do so. "Okay," the woman muttered in disbelief, "I"ll just take the stairs then." She lifted her arms in exasperation and turned immediately to her right. She shook her head in annoyance, realizing she had wasted her precious time only to be rewarded with such an outlandish scene. Carla's eyes followed her until she was no longer in view.
Carla found herself in a dark and dimly lit hotel reception oom, music blasting as party guests danced the night away. The space had been reserved for the wedding after party, the wedding itself already a faint joyous memory one could relive in photographs and video recording. She was a mix of emotions: happy for her sister and her new husband; excited to see family and friends gathered in the celebration of new beginnings; and, unfortunately, dreading the prospect of picking up an unsuspecting fellow like an opportunistic divorcee. Of course she was an opportunistic divorcee and she had been down this road more than once before. But she felt rather bitter about it in light of her sister's new found joy. Not that anyone cared but she felt a bit like a vulture, although she did very little scavenging herself at these sort of events. She dazzled men effortlessly sporting shoulder length curls, a curvaceous form and large brown eyes.
Purples and greens were often her shadows of choice, providing her irises with an almost fire-like glow. Some of her paramours likened her to Beyonce, Marilyn Monroe, and even Liz Taylor, women having an art for wearing their sex and passion like a glove. Carla felt she had no such talent but who was she to deny a compliment. She liked sex and romance. She liked her single life. But she wondered if she would remarry, now approaching her forties and with no nuptials in sight. She pressed her knees together while seated at the bar, straightening the skirt of her blue bodycon dress. She rose her palm to request another mixed drink from the bartender. Long Islands were her usual poison but she indicated to the barkeep that she would like to be surprised. She laid a twenty dollar bill on the bartop, catching the bartender's eye with a smile. He grinned while gifting her with a sunset hued beverage.
She rose the glass to her rose painted lips, tasting a hint of peach on her tongue. She grinned coyly to the bartender and nodded her approval. "And what do you call this?" He smiled handsomely wiping the counter down with a wet towel. "Haven't got a name, it's my own specialty," he quipped with a waggle of his brow. Carla hummed to herself in amusement while taking another sip. "I see, well I rather enjoy it--peach drinks are a weakness of mine." Carla chuckled to herself, maintaining eye contact with the barkeep. He looked like he was about to say something more just as another patron waved him down. He nodded toward the person but seemed reluctant to part with Carla. "I thought as much," he surmised briefly. "But just hold that thought," he said suggesting a promise to engage her at a later time. He winked as he walked off to the side. "Ok," Carla replied as she turned her attention toward the people on the dance floor. In the distance she could see her nephew and what seemed to be a group of friends gathered around a table. They appeared to be chugging down drinks, perhaps to gather the nerve to dance like idiots.
She felt a little concerned, not sure if he would get in trouble considering his age. "Guess they didn't consider pre-gaming before arriving, not with the prospect of free alcohol." Suddenly she felt rather familial. She stood up from her seat and made her way over to his table. She took her glass with her not wanting to throw caution to the wind just yet. She would humor the bartender at a later time. There was always time for that. "Hey nephew," she called out to him. "You and your boys seem to be going at it a little hard, don't you think? Why not cherish the buzz a little; trust me, your liver will thank you." She giggled to herself betraying the fact that she was a little tipsy. But she was a legal adult, she could handle herself. Her nephew on the other hand seemed a little out of his league. "You're dressed too handsomely to be looking shit-faced at your mom's wedding." She motioned to brush down his tuxedo with her hand, seeing the fabric was starting to wrinkle.
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"Well someone has to be an adult," she replied jokingly. "And you're not getting far with that sort of flattery, however, I do appreciate the compliment." She smiled prettily and took a seat next to him, figuring she should spend some time with the kiddies. Of course not long after taking a seat it appeared the booth was soon deserted, save her and her nephew, Jacob. With just two of them at the booth Carla became a little more aware of Jacob's gaze. She thought it somewhat unlike him to admire her so publicly. Perhaps it was the drink's persuasion. Of course it wasn't strange for a nephew to call his aunt beautiful, she just found the gesture a tad uncharacteristic. She looked at him warmly feeling quite happy for him and his new father. The two were very handsome men. She considered her sister lucky to have them both. It suddenly dawned on her that he had casually placed a hand on her leg, asking about her drink. She gaped at him openly, raising a brow in question. Now he seemed to be getting fresh with her. "Well, it's peach flavored; it doesn't have an official name according to the bartender."
She took a shallow sip of her drink, catching a whiff of his whiskey. She set her glass down and gave him an incredulous look. "How much whiskey have you had tonight?" she queried, pinching his hand with her fingertips. She whistled in awe of his strong taste. "Jacob, you really need to be careful . . . you're drinking enough to self-medicate." She pursed her lips together and stared at her manicured nails for a moment. "Are you feeling upset about something?" Carla knew from experience how comforting alcohol could be. It had the added bonus of making some experiences even better, though in moderation. She scanned the room briefly, spotting her sister and her husband at the center of the dance floor, basking in the afterglow of wedded bliss. They seemed rather happy while their kid seemed like he didn't want to be there. Carla offered the remains of her glass to Jacob, sighing exasperatedly. "It's not as strong as whiskey, but I would rather you had something a little lighter on your stomach. I don't want you to get sick."
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"That's too much," she pointed out with a playful grin, accepting the glass to prevent him from imbibing even more. She braced herself as she tossed back a quarter of the drink, crinkling her nose as it stung the back of her throat. "God," she barked in surprise, "I really don't know how you can handle this." She almost didn't hear him when he described his step father as a lecherous man. She was briefly distracted from his hand continuing to fondle her leg. She giggled to herself, the whiskey beginning to compound on her state of drunkenness. She drank more of the whiskey and pondered what he had told her. "So, my sister knows nothing about his arrests?" she questioned sardonically wondering how her husband's permanent record did not once come into question. She felt comforted in the thought that he did not pose an immediate danger to her sister. But infidelity was not something she wanted Rebecca to experience; it had been the breaking point of her own marriage. "I guess Rebecca and I are somewhat unlucky in that respect," Carla grumbled while humorously bumping her shoulder against her nephew.
She looked quite apologetic when he reminded her of his allergy, touching a hand to her chest in earnest. "No need to thank me, Jacob, I nearly killed you." As she took another swig of whiskey she felt his hand skirt along her inner leg. She nearly spat out her drink in surprise. With a dazed look in her eyes she stilled his hand by placing a palm over his. Her vision beginning to blur she gawked at his chest, not sure if she could maintain an eye-level gaze without looking unbalanced. She felt alarmed that he had ruffled her feathers so to speak. She could feel her heart beat picking up, her breaths coming out in whiskey scented pants. She swallowed a gulp, thinking it best to end whatever this was before he started to impact her further. "Jacob, dear, I don't think you're aware of yourself . . . perhaps you should retire for the night." She realized with a growing sense of dread that this exchange was beginning to excite her. She had yet to lift his hand which was perilously close to the hem of her garter. "I may actually need to leave myself, seems I left your mother's wedding gift in my room," she admitted with a sheepish grin.
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She didn't expect him to continue teasing her leg but he did so in spite of the weight of her palm. She tried to pull her arm away, wanting to relinquish his hold on her. His grip was firm and in her condition she only succeeded in drawing herself closer to his frame. She stared at him in wonder, knowing it would be a bad idea if he accompanied her to her room. But in the back of her mind she hand the faintest curiosity as to what might transpire behind closed doors. "I-I should be fine, J-J-Jacob," she stuttered with slurred speech, now becoming increasingly more aware of his proximity and his intent. "You can stay if you want, I was only worried about you. But I definitely need to go." She simpered in his presence, but her smile slowly faded into an agape expression as he leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck. Her breath quickened in horror and excitement as his lips trailed up to her ear.
He teased her regarding her drunkenness but she could barely process his words. Her cheeks were flushed with heat and she rubbed her thighs together, not exactly understanding the way her body was reacting. Jacob was her nephew. She had known him since he was a baby and now he was a bright and handsome young man. She couldn't fathom why he would be doing this to her. She tried once again to disengage herself from him as she became aware of his mouth and tongue at her ear lobe. "I really need to go," she panicked, clumsily removing herself from her seat. She nearly knocked over the half-forgotten glasses on the table. She paused scanning the room, hoping they had not drawn any unnecessary attention to their booth. Certainly no one could hear them over the loud music and the room was too dark to identify either of them clearly. They could easily be perceived as perfect strangers. But Carla was all too aware of their relatedness. Her body seemed to betray her, however. She wanted to escape, to deal with her increasingly indecent thoughts in private. She motioned to leave through the throng of dancers, no longer looking her nephew in the eye for fear of what he might see.
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Carla's vision became less clear as disco lights and gyrating bodies began to blend into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. Her breath quickened as she brought a hand to her head, blinking rapidly to dispel her muddled vision. Jacob helped steady her by placing his hands at her sides. She almost appreciated the gesture inspite of his opportunistic behavior. She pressed her back against his shoulder for balance, conceding that the trek to her room would be arduous without help. She really had no choice in whether he stayed with her or not: he would not accept her refusal. His wicked phrasing urged her to quicken her step as an agonizing heat colored her face. She wished she could ignore the meaning behind his obscene statement. She wanted to believe that he was just toying with her, falling prey to the whims of his drink. How could he possibly see her as anything other than a loving aunt? Why did his present demeanor seem to betray her relation to him? "Jacob, please, don't say that," she implored weakly, "you're just drunk, you don't know what you're saying."
Perhaps it was easier to blame the alcohol instead of holding him accountable. Already he had groped her beneath a table and left a trail of kisses down her neck. She shouldn't encourage his performance, yet she seemed strangely unable to order him to stop in no uncertain terms. She squinted her eyes at the blaring lights of the hallway outside the reception room. She shielded her eyes with her hands while Jacob led them toward a nearby elevator. The elevator faced the reception entrance from just across the hall. With Jacob's assistance Carla managed to remain on her feet without a single misstep. Upon arriving at the elevator she lowered one hand to press the fifth floor button. Haphazardly she pushed more than one as her hand slid across the number dial. "Great," she muttered beneath her breath. She sighed in embarrassment, shrugging her shoulders as she turned to speak with her nephew. She felt a tad insecure facing him so she settled for staring at a wobbling view of his lips. She seemed to gawk at his mouth with her lips pressed together; her eyes averted to his gaze instead but that did nothing to improve her speechlessness.
The affection in his eyes was a little unnerving. Why did he have to look at her like this? Like he was infatuated with her . . . "Oh, oh my," she gasped, suddenly realizing what his true intent may have been. The opening of the elevator door provided her an opportunity to turn away from him as she stepped inside, his body following closely behind hers. She faced the back of the elevator, its metal wall reflecting a cloudy likeness of Carla and Jacob, with his hands still pressed at her hips. She suddenly felt very naked in his embrace. She lowered her head and folded her arms around her bosom.
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Carla's breathing normalized as the elevator car began its ascent. It wouldn't be long before she entered her secure and private hotel suite. She worried that Jacob might wish to join her for the sole pleasure of driving her further into madness. He seemed to be doing a good job of it thus far. She was too weak and intoxicated to physically resist him so there was nothing preventing him from barging into her room. She gave him a sideways glance before lowering her eyes to her trembling arms. There was still time to plan an escape, a distraction, just something to place distance between him and herself. "Jacob, please just listen to me," she pleaded in a quiet voice, her jaw taut with tension. Unfortunately before she could finish her statement the elevator came to an abrupt halt, driving her forcefully off balance. She lurched forward, nearly faceplanting into the back wall of the carrier. Dazed and confused she shot her nephew a withering look from the corner of her eyes. Her pupils dilated in horror at what she saw--Jacob's fist slammed against the emergency pushbutton. He was preventing the car from reaching its destination.
Her body shuddered under his weight as he flattened her against the wall. His lips grazed her skin in a tantalizingly slow manner, summoning a pained moan from her lips. She panted fearfully as the confined space of the elevator car magnified his presence. He seemed to occupy the air in her lungs, the sweat of her brow and even the fabric of her dress and undergarments. In her mind he was becoming more and more like a beast that wished to devour her whole. If she could even hope to reason with him she would need to offer him something, make him feel as though he was already the victor. His hands stroked the fabric covering her hips, kneading her flesh tenderly but in an unpracticed manner. Maybe this was his first time doing something of this nature. Under that assumption perhaps she could bargain with him; she needed an opportunity to call for help using the emergency phone. She arched her neck higher as he came within an inch of kissing her mouth.
She peered directly into his eyes, her hands massaging his chest as she slowly drew them up the length of his shoulders. One hand needled through his hair while the other caressed the back of his neck. With great trepidation she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. Warm breaths wafted over his lips as she contemplated her next words carefully. "Jacob, it's hard for me to relax in such a cramped space," she murmured in a soft and hushed tone. "It's uncomfortable, my legs are tired." She cautiously drew one of her legs between his thighs, her head laid against the wall of the elevator. Her eyes fell timidly to the collar of his tuxedo as she did not wish to see his expression as she stroked his crotch with her thigh. "Maybe I can help you to relax . . . you've been spoiling me all night." She giggled weakly, a tiny smile spreading across her face. She swept her palm around the corner of his ear, her fingers tracing the networks of cartilage. "Is there some way I can help you relax?"
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Carla's eyes widened in astonishment as her nephew enveloped her lips in a feverish kiss. She felt deprived of air, her fingers desperately clawing into his shoulders. This was not the outcome she had been expecting. She mentally reprimanded herself for attempting to bargain with Jacob for her release. Although he saw through her scheme he seemed to offer her one small victory by permitting the elevator car to ascend to the fifth floor. The elevator managed to stop twice in route to its destination. Each time no one stood on the outside waiting to be transported to the another floor. Each time the metal doors closed Carla had even less hope of getting away. She had no space to maneuver around Jacob. He eliminated the remaining distance between their bodies when he kissed her, drawing his chest toward her bosom with his legs straddling her right thigh. She pressed her palms against his chest, attempting to push him away as she squirmed beneath him. She kept her lips closed to deny him her compliance. Mistakenly she took one moment of respite to take in precious breaths of air. This allowed his tongue entry as it beat against the roof of her mouth, his breath pervading the hollow nook of her throat.
Perhaps it was because she was drunk, but suddenly she felt sharply aware of his wanton desires. His breath tasted like sex, summoning fervent moans from the back of her throat. Her voice was swallowed by his mouth as he grazed her lips hungrily. She was beginning to lose focus and energy, her protests becoming minor pushes and shoves. She took a sharp intake of breath as she felt his hand crawl beneath her dress. She tried to yank his arm away but the effort was futile. She reflexively gnawed on his lower lip, her breasts craning over the top of his chest as he fondled her genitals. Each stroke of his fingers was magnified thanks to the alcohol in her system. She captured his arm in a feeble grip as she felt a growing warmth at the base of her torso. She felt mildly embarrassed that he was beginning to unravel her in such a public location. Carla didn't realize they had arrived to the fifth floor until the elevator doors opened rather abruptly. A young woman wearing unicorn print pajamas stood out front, her foot hammering the ground in an impatient manner.
Her eyebrows rose in confusion at the shameless display before her eyes. Carla acknowledged the woman with a bashful expression, her eyes unfocused and clouded over with lust. She could do nothing to untangle herself from her nephew and appeared reluctant to do so. "Okay," the woman muttered in disbelief, "I"ll just take the stairs then." She lifted her arms in exasperation and turned immediately to her right. She shook her head in annoyance, realizing she had wasted her precious time only to be rewarded with such an outlandish scene. Carla's eyes followed her until she was no longer in view.
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