Copyright 2012 by Vivian London
Peace and quiet.
That was what I liked. I was stretched out on the couch in my parent’s house, doing nothing but enjoying the TV and being alone. For the previous week, while my Mom was in Chicago on business, I had been here helping my step-dad Greg watch the kids.
I say ‘the kids,’ but they were really my half-brothers. A pair of twins identical in every way—right down to the irritating way they never stopped moving! That, and eating everything in the house. Greg and my Mom had laid down the law to only get take-out once or twice a week, so that meant me trying (I was nineteen and living on my own at University, so cooking for me was really just macaroni and cheese!) to fix a meal enough to feed four people.
I’m not going to lie, it was nice to spend time at home again. University wasn’t that far away (I went to art school) but I never got to come home as often as my parents wanted me to. There was a reason for that, however.
My step-dad was hot. Once I hit sixteen and realized I liked older men, there was just no getting around it. Sure, I had boyfriends through high school and was kind of seeing a couple guys now, they just weren’t what I wanted—they weren’t Greg.
I could never get him out of my head. There was something about him—mid-forties but still fit, with perfectly greying hair and a strong jaw—I couldn’t get over. More than a few times my teenage self had found my hand down my panties, rubbing hard while I thought about him.