Aunt Monica

Author’s Note: This story is heavily inspired by another, called Summer Slave by Masteries. In particular there is one scene that was almost lifted from that story to transplant into this one: this is meant only as the highest form of flattery, as I found it so powerful upon first reading it and wondered what would happen if something similar happened to a girl with less…inhibited captors. Please send any comments to Goddess_Agony @ yahoo dot com

Chapter 1 – New Home

Angela found herself staring out of the tiny, scratched window of the plane as it began its descent, gazing down at the tiny houses below and watching them grow larger, swelling up far too suddenly. Her stomach lurched as the plane dropped further and further, leaning forward unconsciously, her eyes wide. Surely they were too low, the tops of the buildings seemed almost within reach. For one sickening second she was certain something was wrong, that they were going to graze the tops of the houses below, and crash into the ground. Would that be the worst thing? The thought flashed across her mind, and she felt tears welling up behind her eyes again. She shook her head, yanking it back and sliding the plastic cover over the window, turning to face straight ahead, her breathing heavy.

       The man next to her smiled at her vaguely, but she barely noticed. She couldn’t bring herself to smile back anyways, as she mentally braced herself. It was the first time the fourteen year old girl had ever flown, and she had no idea what to expect for the landing. Suddenly there was a jolt, bouncing her up in her seat, and then she could feel the plane rolling, the wheels vibrating up through the steel body. Was that it? It was over? She let out the smallest of breaths.

       Around her she could hear other nervous fliers sighing with relief, starting to talk. She caught snatches of a phone call, and the man next to her, easily in his forties and dressed up in a deep blue business suit, leaned back in his seat, visibly relaxing. The pit in the bottom of her stomach wouldn’t go away though; it had sat there, hard and painful, for almost four months now. It was difficult, even now, to keep herself from getting lost in memories. Her mind went back, to how it felt when she was sitting in her classroom and the principle had first knocked on the door. First told her to come with him. She didn’t understand the expression on his face. Not until he told her about the accident.

       She realized with a start that it was happening again. Forcing herself out of the horrible daydream she stood up, realizing that the plane was emptying around her. As she twisted awkwardly to grab her backpack from the overhead bin the young girl promised herself that things were going to be different now. She set her chin out defiantly as she filed slowly out of the plane, but the knot in her stomach still twisted.

       The airport was a bewildering maze of noise and color, much larger than the one she’d flown out of. Disoriented, she found herself struggling through the crowd looking for any signs or maps. One large overhead display pointed her to the baggage claim, but as the long corridors stretched on she found herself checking the signs repeatedly, almost in a panic. The sheer size of the place made her feel very small, a young girl in jeans and a ragged t-shirt, clutching one of the straps of her backpack tightly as she turned at an intersection, looking for any direction. Her heart almost leaped as she saw what could only be a set of doors leading out into the main terminal and she practically ran forward, slipping through them and out into the glass ceilinged atrium.

       Her eyes scanned the crowd of people waiting at the exit, looking for a face she hadn’t seen in almost ten years. Suddenly it jumped out at her, narrow, almost bony, framed by shockingly blond hair, dressed in a simple white blouse and a long black skirt, looking at one of the other doors. She found herself racing forward, breaking into a run for the last dozen feet until she almost barreled into the woman, wrapping her arms around her tightly, grabbing at her like a lifeline. She realized she was sobbing, her chest heaving, taking in great gulps of air, tears rolling down her face for the first time in weeks as her aunt almost cried out in surprise, before wrapping her own arms around the shaking girl.

       Monica recognized the girl running towards her just in time to turn before being grabbed in her arms, realizing instantly that the girl was crying, and desperately trying to keep herself quiet. She wrapped her arms around her niece in return, running one hand up to the back of her head as the girl buried her face in her chest. She tried to think of something to say, her own heard jumping in her chest, before realizing it was best to stay silent, just rocking her gently as the young girl shook against her.

       The two of them stood, wrapped in a tight embrace, for long minutes, alone in the crowd in their grief as other passengers found parents, children, spouses and cried out in happiness or laughed in delight. Finally Angela loosened her grip on her aunt, pulling back just slightly, looking up at her with tear streaked eyes. A small smile crept across her face, the first she could remember in months, and her aunt smiled back. She almost loomed over the girl, and for the first time in ages she felt self conscious in her two inch heels, shifting backwards awkwardly on one foot before the moment passed, and she re-adjusted her purse on one shoulder.

       “I…we should get my luggage Aunt Monica” Angela almost whispered, her voice hoarse. Monica nodded, of course, turning around to look for the baggage claim. She reached back and grabbed Angela’s hand, and the teen gripped back ferociously, her nails almost digging into her flesh, clutching to her as they wove their way through the crowd to the enormous conveyer belts.

       Monica frowned as she looked up at the screens, running her eyes down the different flights. Angela’s was flashing red without any number displayed, and she strode over to the desk, irritation rising, dragging the girl behind her. The bored looking attendant confirmed that there had been a problem with the transfer at the connection point and that she could expect to receive an update on the lost baggage in the next three to five business days. Monica bit back something particularly nasty and turned around, bending down slightly to meet Angela eye to eye, staring deep into her still shaken eyes.

       “We’ll get your things back sweetie, don’t worry” she said reassuringly, placing her hands on her shoulders, “and if we don’t don’t worry, we can buy you plenty of new ones”. Angela felt her heart sinking at those words, thinking over how many of her most treasured things were in that suitcase, but she nodded wordlessly. Monica straightened up, concern still in her eyes. The girl was in no shape for any more distress. She grabbed one of her limp hands gently, and Angela found herself clutching back again, but less tightly, as they turned and walked towards the exit together.

       The car ride home was silent. Angela didn’t seem in any mood to talk, and Monica left her alone. It wasn’t until she pulled into her neighborhood that Monica noticed the girl straighten up in her seat, the first sign of life out of her the entire trip. She smiled slightly to herself as Angela twisted to look out over the door of the topless car, the breeze catching her black hair lightly as she stared at the increasingly enormous houses they were creeping between along a wide and tree lined road.

       As Monica turned into her drive, the iron gates creeping back automatically, revealing the lawn behind the eight foot tall hedges, Angela finally found herself speaking up. “You live here?” she asked almost incredulously, leaning forward to stare at the enormous brick mansion that sprawled across the lawn in front of them, wings stretching off from a central structure, ivy staining the walls with green, white trimmed windows popping.

       “Yes. I’d forgotten, you never did get a chance to visit out here, did you?” Monica asked as she pulled to a halt, tires crunching on the gravel, in front of the garage, the low rumble of the engine turning off. Angela shook her head wordlessly as she clambered out of the car, pushing hair from her eyes, suddenly aware of how tear streaked her face must look. Stepping slowly towards the house she couldn’t keep herself from comparing it to her uncles tiny, filthy ranch house where she’d spent the last three and a half months. Against everything else she felt a small flame of hope beginning to kindle. If she was living here with her aunt and her cousins, maybe things might just be alright.

       Monica joined her, the two of them striding up to the front door. She pushed it open with a knowing smile, stepping back to allow Angela to enter first. Still looking around in awe the teen almost stumbled inside, and seconds later shrieks of glee erupted from inside.

Monica slipped through the door, her smile widening at the sight of Angela almost collapsing under the weight of her two cousins, sandwiching her in their embrace. The two twins were indistinguishable, their hair the same pale blond as their mother and kept long down past their shoulders, their faces alight with joy, wearing simple sundresses, one blue and one yellow, their bare feet almost dancing on the cool tile floor of the entranceway, the three small figures almost lost in the enormous space that stretched deep into the house. Monica found herself slinging her purse off onto the floor to join the three of them, wrapping her arms around the group. Leaning in, she allowed herself to whisper “its okay. We’re all together now”, and she realized that Angela was crying again, from happiness this time.

       After a few moments of joy Sandra finally broke out of the group hug, tugging Sasha out after her. “We made sandwiches!” she exclaimed, jerking her head back towards the kitchen. She turned and almost scampered down the hall towards the back of the house, Sasha giggling as she ran after her. Monica wrapped her arms around Angela again. “Are you going to be alright?”

       Angela nodded, slipping free from her embrace. “Yeah I think so. And you know…I am starving” she said with a nervous giggle. She slung her backpack off and hung it up by one strap on one of the coathooks, smiling at her aunt before running off to join her cousins. Monica smiled and began to walk slowly after them.

       By the time she arrived in the kitchen the sandwiches were already half gone, the three girls devouring them, sitting around the tiny round table pushed into the breakfast nook. The twins were excitedly talking about how happy they were to see her and how great it was that she was arriving right when summer vacation was starting. Angela still had a more melancholy look on her face, but as she sat there, mouth full of ham and cheese, she felt herself relax in a way she’d almost forgotten she could, her smile widening naturally at the sheer enthusiasm of her cousins. Something about their appearance was bothering her, but she couldn’t figure out what until she realized that it was clear neither of them was wearing a bra underneath their thin sundresses, their small breasts well defined against the thin fabric. She blushed furiously and took another bite of the sandwich to cover her reaction, grateful that neither of them seemed to have noticed. They were also fourteen years old but their breasts were still fairly small, and she was suddenly very self conscious about her own unusually large chest. She pushed the thought away, unsure of where it had come from, focusing her attention back on what they were saying.

       Monica slid into the nook alongside them, grabbing a sandwich herself and finishing it quickly while she listened to the girls talking. When she was finished she interrupted, and the twins eyes snapped to her, falling silent immediately as she spoke.

       “Angela, we’re all so wonderfully happy that you’re here with us now. I hope…I hope that you’ll come to love living here as well,” she said with a smile, as her gaze moved to each of the girls in turn, “Sandra, Sasha, why don’t you show her up to her room, and then give her a tour of the house.”

       The twins nodded silently in unison, before turning as one and slipping out of the nook. Angela was struck by how well they moved together as Monica picked up the sandwich plate, slipping out herself and allowing Angela to slide out into the kitchen. One of the sisters giggled again, beckoning for her to join them and she stepped forward with a smile, following them back out into the hall.

       As they walked down the hall, their bare feet sinking into the thick rug that ran down its length, Angela found herself nervously asking “er…I’m sorry…but which of you is…which?” The two girls practically collapsed giggling at that, until the one in the blue dress said “I’m Sasha”, her sister managing to get out “and I’m Sandra”. Angela found herself laughing with them, although she couldn’t quite tell why, as they led her around and up the enormous staircase that dominated the back half of the hall. At the top the house stretched out to both the left and the right, and the girls turned right stopping a few doors down. Sandra pushed the door open and let Angela step inside, and Angela’s jaw almost dropped as she entered.

       An enormous queen sized bed, luxurious and white, stood on one side, right alongside a set of giant windows that dominated the far wall, showing the lawn beyond. The walls were white paneling and a pale green, a fancy blue rug covered most of the wooden floor, and next to the bed a positively ancient and antique looking dresser stood. But the stunning part was the fireplace, which was of real stone and took up almost half of the wall across from the bed. Compared to her tiny, cramped room in her old New York apartment the room felt like it belonged in a palace.  The twins seemed positively delighted as she almost staggered forward, collapsing forward onto the bed and staring out of the windows. “This is my room?” she asked incredulously. “Yup!” was the reply of two voices in harmony. She rolled over on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and didn’t even notice the twins creeping up until they had jumped up onto the bed alongside her. Angela giggled herself as the bed suddenly bowed under their weight, tracing the pattern of the molding around the edges of the ceiling, oblivious to how Sasha half reached, as if to caress her face, and on her other side Sandra quickly shook her head now. Sasha pulled her hand back, rebuked, and then slid down off of the bed, saying “come on, we have to show you the rest of the house!”, tugging on Angela’s hand. Angela jumped off to join them, her eyes starstruck, wondering just what else there was to find in this house.

       As they walked back down the hall, Angela asked “so which rooms are yours?”

       “Oh, uhm…” Sandra seemed caught off guard by the question, but she pointed to the door right next to Angela’s “we sleep in there.”

“Both of you?” Angela asked, surprised. “But this place is huge, you don’t have your own rooms?”

“Nope!” Sasha exclaimed, and Angela shrugged to herself.

“Mom’s room is down that way” Sandra said, pointing down the other direction from the top of the stairs, “Her office is up here as well, but there’s nothing really interesting there”. The three girls made their way back downstairs and the twins led her on a dizzying tour through the house. They passed through the library, where bookshelves stretched up to twelve feet ceilings and small reading tables hid in corners. Angela practically squealed herself when she saw the private theater, a fifteen foot screen and a set of comfortable couches in a dark room, and stared in amazement at the dining room, where a twenty foot oak table stretched from end to end, one wall entirely glass, creeping up to the ceiling like a greenhouse, showing off the lawn outside.

       “You guys are really fucking rich” she almost gasped as she was led into the living room via the drawing room, where a small bar stood against one wall, and the largest fireplace yet was framed by couches and comfortable chairs.

“I guess” Sandra said, the two sisters holding hands and admiring Angela’s amazed reaction. “It doesn’t really feel like we’re rich, but-“ “it is pretty cool!” Sasha cut her off.

“How do you keep this place so clean?” Angela marveled, realizing that she hadn’t seen a dusty floor or crooked curtain the entire time, “there must be an army of maids.”

“No maids!” Sandra said proudly, “we keep it clean ourselves!”

“Really!?” Angela turned to look at them, shocked “you keep this place clean?”

“Yup, part of our chores. Its really not bad when you have a routine” Sasha giggled at her reaction. Angela felt almost light headed, turning again, trying to understand just how alien things here were compared to home.

As they walked back into the main hall Angela ran through everything she’d seen in her head, and realized something. “Where do those doors go?” she asked, pointing at the two doors that led to the west wing of the house. One was an enormous set of French doors, set near the front of the house, but with thick curtains drawn over the glass from the other side.

The twins glanced at each other, and then Sandra spoke “more of mom’s work stuff back there. They’re locked, so don’t worry about it. Nothing-“ “Nothing interesting!” Sasha broke in and then giggled again. Angela stared at her in confusion as her sister angrily grabbed her arm, squeezing tightly, and Sasha calmed herself, putting on a mock authoritative tone. “Nothing back there but serious work stuff” Angela found herself laughing alongside them, but her eye was still drawn to the locked doors. She told herself she’d find a way inside, just to look around, someday. Just to find out.