I was happy to reassure her that from now on she’d be free from his pestering; I’d done better than putting the fear of God in him; I’d put the fear of me in there; I was a lot nearer and much more immediate, so I was confident he’d keep well away from my girl from now on; and if he didn’t, well, I might be tempted to take him somewhere remote and, in a spirit of educational endeavour, beat seven shades of shit out of him…
We went back to Judy’s place, mother had asked us to be gone until lunchtime, so we had a couple of hours to kill, and Ashley wanted to talk, somewhere more private than a mall or coffee-shop.
When we got inside, Ashley got right to it.
“Nick, you said to mom that you wanted to marry me. How serious were you?”
I looked into her fabulous dark green eyes.
“Princess, I do want to marry you, but not until you’re absolutely certain you want to marry me. I know I kind of got backed into a corner by mum when I said it, but it doesn’t change the fact that I meant it when I said it. There’s only one life I want; a life with you, when you’re ready. And, as I never got the chance earlier, I’ll ask you now. Ashley Lowry, will you marry me one day?”
Ashley sat silently looking into my eyes, her lips moving slightly as she replayed everything I’d said. Judy fidgeted for a few seconds then blurted out “Say yes, you dumb bitch, or I’m taking him!”
Ashley burst out laughing, and dropped into my lap, pulling me close to her as she kissed me soundly.
“Yes Nicholas Davis, I will marry you! And now, I think I’d like to stand up for a little, my bum’s sore, I wonder why?” she inquired archly, one eyebrow raised in query.
Judy raised an eyebrow at her words, grinned, and then laughed .
“Ashley Lowry, I never knew you were such a slut! And with your own brother, too! I was only teasing you about what I had said earlier. You actually let him put that pogo-stick of his in your ass? Oh my God! You’re braver than I thought, I mean…!”
Ashley looked at her loftily.
“I love him Judy. I would do anything Nicky asked as long as it didn’t involve jail-time or folk-dancing! You should try it sometime…”
Judy grinned again, even wider this time. “What, folk-dancing? OK, but I’d have to kill myself afterwards! And as for the other thing, are you offering me Nick as a try-out? The answer’s yes!”
Ashley snorted and smiled sweetly.”Now who’s the slut, Judy ‘I am a huge tramp’ Nixon!”
I listened to this byplay with amusement, and a certain amount of embarrassment
“Hello, ladies,” I interjected, “just wanted to remind you, I’m still sat right here! Ashley, sweetheart, does it really hurt that bad? I’m sorry Princess, if I’d known…!”
Ashley smiled brightly at me, a great big, phony ‘Flight-Attendant’ smile.
“No Nicky, it didn’t hurt one bit. But if you want to gain some perspective, sort of see things from my point of view, I could always borrow one of Judy’s extensive range of truly frightening dildo’s and use it on you so you can feel just what I’m feeling right now!”
I blushed, deeply.
“Ah, no thank you, darling, I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you, and I’m sorry, Princess, we don’t have to do it again if it makes you feel like this. I don’t want to force anything on you, ever!”
Ashley came round behind me and leaned down to hug me.
“It did hurt just a little, Nicky, but it hurt so good, you know what I mean? We will be doing it again, I like the idea of you forcing things into me, just give me a couple days!” she murmured, and gently nipped my earlobe.
Once again, I grinned so wide all that was holding the top of my head on was my ears! I slipped my arm around her waist and held her close to me, resting my head against her midriff, listening to her heartbeat.
Judy on her bed and looked at me quizzically.
“So Nick, are there any more like you back in England, maybe one I can snag, or are you a one-off?” she asked, a slight smile playing around her lips.
I scratched my head.
“I have two half-brothers; Robert’s almost four years younger than me, and Richard’s a year younger than him, and you definitely don’t want to get mixed-up with those two poisonous little twerps!” I told her, remembering their whining and their attitudes to people, so much like my father’s.
“Oh really? Do tell!” she prompted, so I gave her the matinee version.
“Richard and Robert are Barbara’s sons, but they’re nothing like her; my father made them into younger versions of himself, and I truly believe Barbara had no time for them; I never saw them show or give her any affection or appreciation, or respect; it’s like he used her to give him sons, then took them away from her, and I think that’s how she felt. But she had me, and I had her, and that was enough for us both. Can we stop talking about this now, please?” I begged her, near tears again, and Judy’s little face showed concerned sympathy as Ashley hugged me close, hearing the sadness and guilt in my voice again.
I buried my face in Ashley’s midriff and mopped my eyes on her shirt, and Judy reached out and touched my knee.
“I’m sorry Nicky, I didn’t think…” she whispered, while I wondered how long this hurt was going to keep pulling me down, how long it would be before I could think of her without turning into a quivering wreck; I wasn’t indulging myself, wallowing in my guilt and loss, I was sure of that. Ashley had been on the right track; I just hadn’t worked out a way to forgive myself yet, nor did I think I’d earned it, not yet.
I got myself back under control, and apologised to Judy for making her feel uncomfortable in her own home. She came over and hugged me where I sat and said “Nicky, it’s OK to mourn, and it’s OK to cry, you loved her, and it’s only been a few days. Any time you need to cry for her, you should.” I hugged her back and thanked her for being there for me as well.
Ashley decided at that point that it was more or less lunchtime, so we should be going, and Judy offered to drop us back. As we walked down the stairs I saw an Olde-English silver Bristol car pull into the driveway, and Dr. Nixon got out. He saw us and waved, and stood waiting for us by that stunning car.
“Hello Ashley, Nick, how are you feeling?” he asked. I told him I felt fine, and that I was free if he wanted to discuss last night at all, but he claimed he was too busy, and that he’d drop by later to check me over. I was only half listening to him; my attention was riveted on that beautiful hand-built aluminium-bodied car, and he noticed my rapt gaze.
“Like her, Nick? He asked me, and I could only nod. “Where did you find a 408 in America?”I asked him softly, my attention still fixed on the car, and he sounded impressed.
“You know what it is?” and I nodded; this car was an English classic and a schoolboy fantasy to drive, and I’d only ever seen one, in the National Motor Museum at Beaulieu Abbey in Hampshire, a mecca for motor-heads the world over.
“She’s a 1964 Bristol 408 with the Chrysler of Canada 5. 2 litre engine, they only made 83, and you’ve got one, oh my God!” was all I could say, “I can’t believe you drive her around, what if she gets pranged? Is there anyone here who even knows how to shape aluminium body panels for her?”
Dr. Nixon grinned. “Nope, which is why I only drive her after the rush-hour is over; while the Range Rover’s off the road, she’s my only transport, and the only way I’ll be seen in Judy’s Prius is after I’m dead, so I have to go careful; I shudder to think what it would cost to fabricate duplicate body panels from scratch! I know about this marque and this model, so normally she only comes out when I can’t resist her any more.”
“I found her twenty years ago in a car lot in Raleigh, North Carolina, the bodywork and suspension were fine, but the engine and gearbox and torque converter were shot, and the interior was tattered; the dealer didn’t know and didn’t care what she was, which is why I was able to snap her up. It took me nearly ten years to put her back in shape, and there she is! Want to sit in her?”
I grinned and nodded, and he opened the door for me. The car was an import from England, so right-hand drive, and the sumptuous Connolly leather and beautifully restored and polished walnut interior was more like a gentleman’s club than the interior of a car. In its day, this car, hand-built by craftsmen, had been competing with Rolls Royce and Bentley for quality, comfort and prestige, and it still showed; it oozed style and elegance.
I caught Ashley’s expression, and eventually managed to tear myself away, reluctantly, and braced myself for questions about Ashley and myself, but none came, so I decided to make the first move.
“Dr. Nixon, I need to have a word with you, is there somewhere we can talk for a few minutes, please? Alone?
He looked at me and nodded, motioning me to follow him into the house while Ashley and Judy stood outside, whispering together as they leaned against Judy’s despised Prius. When we got inside, Dr. Nixon motioned me to take a seat.
“So Nick, what can I do for you?” he asked.
“Dr. Nixon, Ashley says you know I’m her brother, well, half-brother. I expect you’re wondering what kind of relationship we have?”
He looked at me for a moment, then leaned back in his seat and smiled slightly.
“Actually, no, I think I guessed after yesterday. What do you want me to say? That I disapprove? Speaking as a medical professional, of course I have an opinion, and that opinion is loaded against you. What you’re doing is illegal, and by rights I should report you, but, as you’ve not stated outright what you’re doing, technically I’m still unaware, let’s leave it that way. My personal opinion is immaterial. However, there’s the issue of children. The children of incest have a better than fair chance of inheriting recessive genetic traits that may well end up expressing themselves down through their own families.”
“I can’t in all honesty condone what you’re doing, if only for the sake of the children you may have, and the burden you could conceivably impose on them. However, I think you’re both old enough to understand what you’re doing and it’s not my place to offer opinion on what you do as consenting adults. My medical opinion you’ve just heard, anything else is not relevant.”
I nodded, waiting for him to continue.