by Stephanie Silver
Chapter 8 - Uncle Leland
Even though he was sitting in the shade, it couldn't have been comfortable for him to wait that long. Jenna recognized him right away. It was Lucas's Uncle Leland. Seeing him reminded her that she had intended on stopping by soon to visit her own aunt and uncle.
Seeing him also reminded her that she should do a quick check of her clothing to make sure all the appropriate pieces were there, with the right sides facing out, buttons buttoned, zippers zipped and snaps snapped. A quick glance down and a subtle touch here and there, followed by slight shrug of her shoulders to confirm her bra was in place, helped to assure her that she hadn't forgotten anything. She doubted that a stray wardrobe malfunction would give her away, but it never hurt to be careful.
She thought about checking her knees for grease stains from kneeling, but figured that might be too obvious, so instead she just crossed her fingers and hoped.
"Hi," she said, as she drew nearer, making her way to her car.
Uncle Leland could sometimes be hard to gauge. Or often. His sharp eyes seemed to see everything, although he rarely said much, beyond the standard greetings. Which is what he did now. "Evening, Jenna."
His words caused her to stop in her tracks. Change of plans. How did he know to call her Jenna? As long as he didn't recognize her, her plan had been to act as if he was a stranger to her, get in her car and drive off without talking. "You waiting for someone?" she asked.
"Bob," he answered. "Need him to look at a tire for me."
She wondered how long he'd been waiting. If it had been more than a few minutes, he might have guessed what was going on inside. Why hadn't he knocked or something? Or just left if he came and found the door locked. "Uh, yeah, we were just going over some books and stuff," she lied. Why did she get the impression he knew exactly what she and Mr. Burke had been doing in the back, and was just being polite by waiting?
Was that a disapproving look he was giving her?
"Just knock on the door," she continued. "He's there. I'm sure he'll answer." Actually she wasn't at all sure he'd answer. He'd still been naked when she put her clothes back on and kissed him good bye. She hadn't really planned on kissing him. It just seemed appropriate. He looked so... so what? Like he'd almost fallen in love with her. The power of a blow job.
"Better yet..." she said, hoping to stall for her employer in case he needed more time. She turned and went back to the station, calling out as she did, "Mr. Burke?"
She purposely fumbled with her key, trying to make enough noise to let her boss know she was there. "Mr. Burke?" she called again. It suddenly occurred to her that he might think she was coming back for more. That she'd reconsidered things, and wanted to give him a chance to fuck her, too. He might, she realized, come out still naked, sporting a hard-on in response to her calling. "You've got company," she warned as she continued to fumble with her key. "It's Leland Curtis. He needs help with a flat tire."
Just as she opened the door, she thought she detected a slight movement near the door to Burke's office. A quick flash of whitish skin followed by the sound of a door being pulled shut. Oh god, he'd been coming out naked to see her. She hoped Uncle Leland hadn't noticed. Buying more time, she dropped the key in the doorway, and bent over to pick it up.
Whatever Leland Curtis might have believed or disbelieved about the possibility of a sexual tryst going on in the back room of Burke's Filling Station, Jenna's efforts to conceal it probably only served to draw his attention to the very thing she was trying to hide.
At last, Burke replied from behind the closed door that he'd be out in a minute. Satisfied that she'd done all she could, Jenna turned to leave. As she did, Mr. Curtis said, "Don't be taking too long to get over there and see your aunt and uncle now Jenna. I expect they'll be happy to see ya."
She stopped, turning. "Yes sir," she said. It was possible he might have learned her name just by asking the right people. Mr. Burke might have told him; they seemed to be friends. But if he knew she was related to Aunt Nan and Uncle J, then he also had to know she hadn't always been Jenna Kaye. "I'll do that," she added. So just how much did he know? Maybe Mr. Burke or someone had told him she was Jed's twin sister.
She looked at him, but didn't detect any reproach in the way he was looking at her. Who could tell? Uncle Leland was hard to figure.
With nothing further to say, she turned to leave again. "Nice seeing you," she said as she reached the door.
"Nice seeing you too," he returned.
With the top down, and following the same route Mr. Burke had used when she had been applying for a job, Jenna pushed the needle of the speedometer up just past seventy miles per hour. She just wanted to go fast, and let the wind blow every single thought out of her head. It wasn't working. All she could think of was how much fun it would be to take her other top off as well. The blow job had only made her even hornier. When she got home, if Katon wasn't there, she knew she would need to make herself cum. Even if he was there.
She let her mind wander, thinking about how she wanted to do it. A warm shower, with lots and lots of soap. Maybe press her butt up against the wall and pretend it was Lucas, fucking her from behind. She'd thought about Lucas while she was sucking Mr. Burke's dick. That had been an impressive bit of multitasking: sucking him, talking about having sex with Shaina, and thinking about Lucas. All at the same time.
But she wouldn't cum. Not that way. Not in the shower. She'd save it. Later, after shaving away all the unwanted hair from her legs and body, she'd lock herself in her room and slather herself with lotion. She'd put on her favorite panties, and bring herself to orgasm dreaming of Lucas. And when the climactic moment finally arrived, it would be his name she'd whisper, "Fuck me, Lucas. Fuck me fuck me fuck... oh god, oh god, ohhhh oohhh ohhh g-g-g-o-o-o-d-d-d."
Yeah, that's how she'd do it.
So now what was going on with Uncle Leland? How did he know so much about her? Had Lucas told him she was there? And how she was changing gender? That didn't seem like Lucas. Besides, Lucas had left her without seeming to be very interested in getting back together again. She couldn't imagine him then going out and having a heart-to-heart talk with his uncle about her. Even if he had, wouldn't he have called her? And told her he was still thinking about her? Enough to tell Uncle Leland about her?
It didn't add up. She nudged the accelerator down further, and felt the car speed up. It didn't add up. But that was Uncle Leland. He was hard to figure. He knew something, but how much he knew and how he knew it was anybody's guess. She shrugged and took her foot off the gas, letting the car slow down gradually. It was anybody's guess. For now, she had a date with a bar of soap.
* * * * *
Lucas had been surprised when his Uncle Leland decided to sell the old homestead out on Rupert Road. He'd been under the impression his uncle was fixing it up for himself, planning to live there once he retired. But he never did. Live there, I mean. He just kept fixing it up and fixing it up, until one day he declared it ready to sell.
With a modest income in computer programming helping him along by that point, Lucas asked his uncle to at least sell it to him. It seemed a shame for all that hard work to be handed over to some stranger, who more than likely wouldn't even appreciate it. But his uncle wanted more than Lucas could afford at the time. Lucas was skeptical his uncle could even get half of what he was asking for the place. But he remained resolute on his asking price, and three months later a couple from California gave him what he wanted plus a little more. And thought they'd made quite a bargain in the process.
Now Uncle Leland had another job for him. Partnering with Ken Jedry, he'd bought the old Mayville Church, and now they planned on gutting it so they could turn it into a venue where small bands could perform. With Ken's expertise in the music industry, they envisioned a state-of-the-art sound system where bands could record music in front of a live audience, if they could get one, and use the recordings to promote themselves.
"The whole thing is computer controlled," he told Lucas, when he asked him to come out once a week or so to check on the system installation. "I need someone who really understands that stuff."
Lucas doubted he was the best person for the job, but when Uncle Leland asked you to do something, you did it. Without arguing.
The job had him making the three-hour drive from Chattanooga to Mayville every other weekend at first, during the demolition process, and then every weekend once the computer system started going in. Lucas didn't mind. It's not like he had that much going on in Chattanooga anyway. Plus his uncle paid him for his time, including travelling, and reimbursed him for his mileage. With little work to do other than supervise the workers, who seemed to already know what to do, it amounted to a weekly paid vacation. To Mayville, Tennessee.
There are certainly worse places you can go on vacation than Mayville. My parents used to take me on their yearly vacation to Burley, Idaho. Not much to do in Burley on a hot summer day. And we always went during the summer so that it wouldn't interfere with my education. Grandma and Grandpa's two bedroom brick rambler, with its meticulously manicured front lawn and sprawling vegetable garden in the back, stuck smack in the middle of a treeless subdivision populated mostly by folks just as old as them, didn't have much for a ten-year-old boy to do, other than imagine things. Things like sex-crazed space aliens suddenly swooping down from outer space and conducting random sex-change operations on unsuspecting - but still very cooperative - ten-year-old boys, who were otherwise trapped in their grandparents' backyards. But just because that's how I spent most of my time there doesn't mean my parents didn't absolutely love the place. To them, I guess, it brought back memories.
Ah, memories. The things that make ten-year-old boys squirm, and wish they could go swimming, or ride a bike, or be abducted by sex-crazed aliens. There just wasn't much to do there for fun except visit and remember how things were when you were little. And that's what my parents did every summer in Burley, Idaho. And it's probably the reason they wanted to go there every year.
And that's the same reason Lucas enjoyed going to Mayville every weekend or two. Memories. With an itinerant lifestyle that saw him moving around the country every couple years, spending summers in one place and the school year somewhere else, Mayville was the first place Lucas dared call home. If you asked him where he was from, he'd tell you he was from Mayville. He might not say it's where he grew up - by the time he moved there he was sixteen years old - but it's where the most significant events in his life happened.
It's where he met Jed.
Ah, yes, those kind of memories.
"Go see Jenna," Uncle Leland said to Lucas one evening after his work was through for the day. Where Jenna would describe Lucas's uncle as a man of few words, Lucas's experience was quite different. They often had long talks, and Lucas considered his uncle one of the few people he trusted and could really confide in.
"Jenna? Who's that?" asked Lucas, pretending he didn't know.
Uncle Leland ignored the charade. "You two used to see a lot of each other back in high school."
"Yeah, I know," admitted Lucas. "It's different now."
"In what way?" asked his uncle.
Lucas almost choked. Wasn't it obvious? "Well, for starters, he's turned into a girl now. Besides, I don't think he likes me anymore."
If Lucas had thought things over just a little further, he might have tried coming up with a different answer. The one he gave led to a twenty-minute lecture that began with the importance of using appropriate pronouns. "Whatever Jedidiah's reasons were for deciding to change gender, it's something you best respect. You hear? He's not a he no more, she's a she now, and the sooner you face up to that fact, the sooner you can quit moping about how much SHE don't like you."
From there, Lucas's uncle launched into a lecture on the importance of being honest with yourself. "You keep telling yourself the problem's her, when the only reason you don't give her a call is you're too afraid to admit it's you that's the problem. You keep telling yourself how bad she hurt you. Hurt you by doing what? By being herself?"
Lucas tried explaining how it was more a matter of not keeping him properly informed, to which his uncle replied, "Phhhttt. She probably didn't even know herself till she woke up one day and realized where she was. You think you're the only person who's ever been confused?"
Lucas tried to argue, but like I say, you don't argue with Leland Curtis. What about the time they met when Jed was on a mission? "A completely different time and place," explained Leland. "Has about as much to do with what's going on now as that bucket of paint over there."
Lucas glanced over at the bucket of paint, not fully sure what its significance was to the conversation.
"Bottom line, Lucas, is you've been going around all this time feeling picked on and sorry for yourself, and not doing much of anything to fix it."
Okay, Rome wasn't built in a day, so I hear, and just because Uncle Leland told him he was being a dope didn't make Lucas go right out and quit being what he'd worked twelve years at being - hurt.
It did, however, make him do one thing new, and that was to think. Maybe, just maybe, he could imagine Jed had had his reasons for doing the things he'd done. Maybe.
Remodeling of the old church progressed quickly, transforming it into a combination concert hall and recording studio. "Bring your violin with ya next time," said his uncle one week. "The stage is just about ready, and we're gonna want to start testing her out."
Lucas walked along the newly painted halls, imagining the Sunday School classes that used to meet in rooms that now contained the latest technology in music making and recording. It reminded him of Jed, who had now transformed himself into Jenna.
Jed was like the way the building had been before when it was a church. The analogy seemed even more appropriate when you considered what Jed's life had been before. A Mormon missionary with a firm belief in God, prayer, and his religion. Jed was his church, his religion. That's what made him who he was, and it was impossible to separate the two.
And then one day, someone - or something in Jed's case - had come along and decided to change that basic structure into something different. In the church's case, the changes had been mostly internal. In Jed's case, the changes had been mostly external. Now Mayville had a recording studio that looked like a church, while Jedidiah King lived in a body that looked like that of a young woman. Reflecting the change within, the sign in front of the church had been taken down, and replaced with one that said Mayville Music Hall. Jedidiah had quit calling himself Jed, and now asked people to call him Jenna, reflecting the changes in his own life.
New paint. Lucas took a deep breath. Memories. The smell reminded him of Jed. The house on Rupert Road. They'd torn out all the old stuff, put in new, and covered everything in a layer of fresh paint. The smell of fresh paint would always bring back memories to him of those times with Jed. They were good memories. Definitely.
On his way back to Chattanooga that evening, he thought about Jenna. Her small breasts, her boyish hips, her wide shoulders. His? No, Uncle Leland had told him to quit thinking of Jenna as male. Still, her androgynous looks appealed greatly to someone like Lucas. She was definitely his type.
Thinking about her he felt his dick slowly growing harder and harder. It felt good. He let those thoughts continue. He thought about what it would be like to have sex with her. To be inside her. Jed's lips wrapped around his cock had always felt incredible. He knew Jenna's lips would feel just the same. Maybe better. His dick was so hard. He knew that as soon as he got home, he'd have to do something about it.
He'd start in the bathroom. Take his cock out and just start stroking while he thought about Jenna. Mentally undressing her, he'd gradually push his pants down until they were down around his knees, where he'd finally step out of them. His shirt would come off, too. By that time he'd be in his bedroom, and would lie down on the bed, still stroking his cock and thinking of Jenna. He'd imagine entering her, burying his cock inside her. He'd imagine her screaming for more, begging him to use her, to push it deeper, faster and harder.
He'd imagine her screaming his name as he brought her to orgasm. And that's when he would finally bring himself to orgasm, whispering in her ear as he did, "Oh, Jenna, I want you so much." It would be intense.
Just thinking about it excited him. He nudged the throttle forward, anxious to get home.
* * * * *
The client, Leland Curtis, had a simple request: make the building look less like a church and more like a Music Hall. Oh, and one other thing. He wanted Ken Jedry's son, Katon, to be in charge of the landscaping project.
"But it has a steeple," Katon protested. "It doesn't matter what we do with the landscaping, it's still going to look like a church."
Katon had met Lucas's uncle on more than one occasion. His impression of him was more like Jenna's: a man who didn't say too much, but seemed to be very aware of what was going on around him. Unlike Jenna, he didn't think of him as a man who was hard to figure out, he was just quietly observant. And somehow that quietly observant personality managed to get things done. A lot of things.
Okay, so Katon was actually slightly in awe of the man. Where Katon was inclined to give up on certain things, and let them go when they started to seem like just too much work, Lucas's uncle was the kind who didn't quit. No, that's not it. Quitting, or rather not quitting, never seemed to be an issue. About the point where Katon would probably give up and quit, adding another item to his list of failures due to lack of motivation, Uncle Leland would already have succeeded.
That's what impressed Katon so much. He saw in Lucas's uncle all the things he himself could do and become, if he just focused his efforts enough. All right then, if he wanted landscaping that would make a church look like something else, then that's what Katon would do.
It pained him to tear out most of the flowers, but flowers, especially red and white striped petunias, said the place was a church, so they had to go. In their place went tall, vertical shrubs. Most of the smaller trees had to come out, too. He didn't want to encourage anyone to linger outside on the grounds; you wanted them inside where the music was. Sadly, the large elm tree that had been the center of the church's front yard couldn't stay, either. Too much shade. Too much of a feeling of peace and relaxation. He needed a landscape design that said all the excitement was inside.
There wasn't anything he could do about the steeple. Mr. Curtis was adamant that it remain.
While his crew was busily working, Katon did what he liked doing the most - he talked with the client. In this case with Lucas's Uncle Leland. He felt the usual intimidation, but was trying not to let it show.
They talked about the job, what Mr. Curtis expected, what Katon and his crew could do, and what the contract specified. Business. Despite whatever previous decisions had been made, Katon found it always helpful to get the client's perspective on things as the work was actually being done. Sometimes they wanted changes, and it was much more convenient to make them while his crew was right there, than to come back later and try to fix it.
Gradually the conversation turned to music. And to what Katon suspected was Uncle Leland's real business. "You kids used to have a pretty good band at one time. Back before Kyle left and that Dr. Sandifer thing."
Katon laughed, suppressing a shudder at the reminder of Dr. Sandifer. "Yeah, we won the high school Battle of the Bands a couple times."
Uncle Leland nodded. "Always seemed to me you needed a girl or two in your band. You were all boys and that's just what you sounded like."
Katon bit into his ham and lettuce sandwich and started chewing. "Yeah, maybe."
Uncle Leland was giving him that look, the one that said there were no maybes about it. He turned in his seat and looked thoughtfully back at the church he was nearly through converting into a music studio, as if he was trying to come to a decision. Knowing Uncle Leland, the decision had probably been made long ago, and his show of thinking it over was completely theatrical.
"I'm thinking you guys should all get back together. You can use this place to practice. Record some of those demo tapes. Send them out to people. Your dad could help you figure out who to send 'em to. It could turn into some serious business for you, if you wanted. Jenna's the best on drums I ever heard, and you're never gonna find anyone better on the violin than Lucas."
Katon chewed more slowly. "Except he's in Chattanooga now most of the time. You really think we could do it?"
"I know you could."
Of course, Kyle, their lead singer, was no longer around. That changed things. And Kelly was doubtful. "His wife won't let him do anything," said Katon.
Uncle Leland said he might be able to help with getting Kelly's wife to go along with things. "He's been practicing with your brother Kyle's bass guitar. It'd be good for him to get out and really do something with it."
Katon could just imagine his older brother, with his brooding personality, strumming out the bass portions. Plus he'd be able to help Katon with background vocals. "That still leaves us without a lead vocalist," reminded Katon.
"I don't think that's gonna be a problem," said Uncle Leland, just as an attractive woman about Katon's age walked up.
"Mr. Curtis, I'm going to need a couple of signatures from you today." she said with a flash of perfect white teeth. "Are you going to have a few minutes we could do that?"
It wasn't the flash of perfect white teeth that got Katon's attention, however. It was the flash of ample cleavage she was showing. More than a flash, actually. Large, luscious breasts as big as small cantaloupes. Long, curly black hair that went about halfway down her back. Legs as long as anything he'd ever seen or imagined. And all of it bundled together in one single package that practically oozed sex.
Uncle Leland stood, the way gentlemen used to do when a lady arrived. "Katon, I'd like you to meet my lawyer, Christina Gomez. Christina, this is Katon Jedry. Ken's youngest son. He's the one doing all this landscaping for us."
Successful flirting was all a matter of timing, according to Katon. He started at Christina's face, looking her body over from head to toe in just a few seconds, just long enough for her to notice that he was looking. Once he got to her toes, he reversed the process, looking her over from toe to head, taking almost twice as long for the return journey. When timed perfectly, Uncle Leland's introduction was just finishing as Katon's gaze left Christina's luscious breasts and moved up to focus completely on her face. With a smile and a look that said he liked what he saw, all Katon had to say was, "Pleased to meet you," and he knew Christina would soon be in his bed.
Only it wasn't his bed they ended up in. It was hers. With Jenna living in his apartment, Katon's ability to gain the home-field advantage had been greatly diminished. And they didn't end up there right away. There was still one more matter of business to attend to. More than one. Christina really did need those signatures she'd asked for from Leland Curtis, and Katon still had a landscaping crew to supervise before he sent them all home for the day.
And then there was that matter of finding a lead vocalist for their band. Christina, it turned out, was an excellent singer. She had taken singing lessons ever since she was eight, and had been singing in the church choir since she was eleven. By the time she was fourteen, she was the choir's lead singer, and was performing on her own at county fairs and amateur talent shows all across the state. College and law school had kept her from doing more with her singing talent, but now that she was a practicing lawyer, she found herself with free time again. Singing with a band sounded like the perfect opportunity.
Christina had another talent besides singing. Well, she had several talents, actually. You can joke about lawyers all you want; the fact is, they're usually very intelligent people who are highly motivated. But two specific talents come to mind.
The first is that along with being a gifted singer, she also played the flute. For three years, she had been first chair flute player in Mayville High School's marching band. And the year before that, as a freshman, she had been second chair behind senior Anne Tuttle. She could also play the saxophone and clarinet. No one yet knew exactly what kind of music their band would play, but it was a cinch that Christina's musical talents would be a great asset.
"She could also play the skin flute like nobody's business," according to Katon.
The skin flute? You mean...?
Yeah, that. But, that's getting us a little ahead of ourselves. After all, it was still only one o'clock in the afternoon and there was work to be done. After work, Katon went home for a quick shower, and then met Christina at her office near Mayville's courthouse.
From there they went out to dinner, where the focus of their conversation was starting up the band. At least that's what the focus of their words was. The real focus was somewhere else. "I knew when I was looking at her boobs at lunch that we were going to do it together," he admitted. "You could just tell."
It wasn't all that late when Katon walked her up to her third floor apartment, which was conveniently located at the end farthest from the stairs. Convenient, in this case, meaning that the chances of anyone seeing them there were slim. "I had a great time tonight," one of them said, as Katon repeated his head to toe and back to head gaze of Christina's body.
"So did I," said the other, as he leaned in for a kiss. At the same time, she started to lean backward. Not in avoidance, though. Not at all. It was more of an invitation for him to get closer. At the same time, she parted her lips to invite a more passionate kiss. An invitation Katon quickly accepted.
With their mouths pressed tightly together, Katon's hand found the bottom edge of Christina's short black skirt. He stroked his finger along the edge, touching it and the smooth soft skin just beneath it. As they continued to kiss, he massaged back and forth, slowly raising it higher and higher. He groped with his fingertips, searching for her panties, but finding nothing. He lifted the skirt higher, but still couldn't find what he was looking for. Maybe she wasn't wearing any? Somehow he doubted it.
When his hand was on the bare flesh of her butt, caressing and fondling, and there was still no sign of any underwear, Christina pushed him away gently and said, "Maybe we should go inside."
And maybe they could have continued doing what they were doing right there on the landing in front of her apartment without being seen. Or maybe neither of them actually cared if they were seen. In any case, as she turned to unlock the door, Katon pressed up against her from behind and began kissing her neck. He lifted her skirt up once again so that her butt was about halfway exposed as he pressed his bulge into her. "I want to fuck you right here," he whispered.
She giggled in a very non-lawyerly way. As the door opened, the two of them tumbled more than walked into the room, and immediately began pulling at one another's clothes. One of them had the presence of mind to push the door closed, although again, it's not certain who might have come along to see them if they hadn't, or if either of them would have minded if they were watched.
Christina, as expected, was wearing panties - a thong. And a bra, too, since we're on the subject. Neon blue satin, both pieces. That's pretty much what she was wearing when Katon learned about her talent playing his skin flute. That and a gold crucifix necklace.
She was wearing slightly less than that when he moved her over to the couch and began licking her "landing patch" pussy. Up, down, side to side, in and out. Happily licking until Christina was positively squirming with excitement. Still licking when she started begging him to put his dick inside her. And then she wanted it deeper. And then harder. And then both harder and deeper and faster. And then she was screaming.
No, I made up the part about the screaming. Christina wasn't a screamer. A moaner and a bit of a gasper, but not a screamer. And yes, as you might guess, she liked being on top. No problem. Katon liked it on bottom just as much as he liked it on top. Really, he didn't care much one way or the other, as long as he was inside. And he was definitely inside Christina that night. "Right up to my balls," he said.
And then he was shooting his cum inside her. "That was some of the wildest sex I ever had," he said later.