Disappearing Acts
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2005 by MasterDavid

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - An illusionist is betrayed by those closest to him. Yet, though they think they have the upper hand, the lessons he learned from his adopted father may still allow him to prevail.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic   NonConsensual   Rape   Violence  

I checked myself in the rear view mirror one last time before opening the door on my side of the Mustang. Sherree had specified casual clothes, and I had tried to extend that vibe to the rest of my appearance by letting my hair appear a bit mussed ('though still perfectly put together, ' I thought) and letting a bit of day-old stubble grace my chin ('scratchy, but definitely casual!'). I pulled my surprise for Sherree out of the passenger seat and slid out of the car and onto the street in front of her house.

Cottage might have the term that best described the small home in which Sherree lived. It was obvious that the place had built in the days before the reincarnation of Vegas as more than a place for gamblers, hookers, and hangers-on. Just a small crackerbox of a house, probably built sometime in the late 60s or early 70s, meant to house one or two of the unending stream of service workers that really made the city run. It had originally been one story, but someone had gone back later and added a few feet to the attic, giving it an abbreviated second floor. The renovation was obvious from the increased height and pitch of the roof when compared to its neighbors, as well as the second floor window that jutted out that roof. Stylistically, the window didn't match the rest of the house. It was as if someone had been building a model and stuck a piece from a different kit on top, then walked away. It was an odd fit made tolerable only by a paint scheme that matched up the new and the old, as well as a well-maintained roof that apparently had been replaced when the addition was put in

If this house was different than its fellows, it was mainly in the cleanliness and cheer it seemed to project from the front. As I walked the concrete walkway up to the front door, I had to admire the variety of plants and flowers that someone kept neatly tended both across the front of the house, and in various spots in the small front yard. While the rest of the street sagged with age, screaming for a wrecking ball to come put it out of its misery, Sherree's home actually looked better now than it likely did when it was built. Even as I rang the doorbell, I wondered what might possess a showgirl to keep such an immaculate home in a place where no one else seemed to care.

That's when I heard the unmistakable squeal of a child whooping in delight above me. I looked up just in time to see something falling toward me. Without time to even raise my hand to ward off what was coming, something soft and squishy hit me full in the face and then burst open. In a reflex, I bent my head forward, shaking my head to clear water from my eyes. Less than a second later, a second missile hit me in the back of the neck, sending water cascading over my head and down my back. Within a couple of seconds, I was covered in water from my head to my waist, and little rivulets were making themselves known inside my underwear. I was still trying to process what had happened when Sherree opened the front door.

At first her mouth just dropped open in astonishment, and I'm sure I might have done the same thing in her position. I had gone from debonair illusionist to sopping-wet sad sack in a matter of seconds, and I was still trying to figure out the reason. Then her eyes went hard and her mouth firmed into a straight line. "Boys!" she shouted over her shoulder into the house. "Get your asses down here right NOW!"

I heard footsteps running away from the window above me, and thumping noises growing louder as something got closer to where Sherree stood. As she turned around, two small bodies came barreling around a corner, coming to a dead stop near the door facing her. The two children were obviously related, maybe even twins. Five or six years old, blonde hair, and both sporting matching ear-to-ear grins. Sherree glared down at them, hands on her hips.

"Did you two have something to do with this?" she asked, gesturing at me as water began to pool around my shoes.

They both nodded their heads in unison, smiling proudly at what they obviously considered some type of great achievement.

"And exactly why did you think it would be all right to drop water-balloon bombs on this man's head?" Sherree was steaming now, her anger coming off of her in waves. The boys suddenly looked a little less sure of themselves. The one on her left looked down at the ground as if something interesting had just materialized there, while the one on the right continued looking right at Sherree, chewing his lip. After a couple of seconds under her stern glare, he finally mumbled something I couldn't hear.

"What was that, Charlie?"

He looked at me as if embarrassed, then said only a bit louder, "'Cause a' whatcha' said this morning, Auntie Sher."

If anything, his words made her even angrier. She leaned toward him just a bit, as if ready to grab onto him, saying in an even more menacing tone, "And what did I say that made you think this," she waved her hands in my direction again, "would be okay?"

"Well, first you said he was all wet if he thought he was going to get into your pants tonight." As soon as the words left Charlie's mouth, Sherree turned pale and looked at me in horror. I just shrugged my shoulders, kind of distantly interested but more concerned about the squishiness I was feeling as I moved my feet inside my shoes. "And then, when you told Mama Rose that you wished you could burst his balloon... well, me and Chet decided we'd do it for you."

By now, Sherree's face was a study in warring emotions. Embarrassment, anger, sympathy, and even a bit of humor seemed to fighting to break through and stay in place. Eventually, she was able to muster another stern look, though this time it had a lot less steam behind it. "And what if this had been somebody else? Even if you thought I'd be okay with letting you drop water balloons on ANYONE, what if you'd done it to somebody else? Somebody who... who... wasn't... HIM?"

I think at that point I started to realize that she wasn't as mad about them dousing me as I thought.

"Nobody else ever comes here, Auntie," Charlie said in a serious tone, trying to lay out the obviousness of what he and his brother were thinking. "And, he had that big thing of flowers in his hands as he came up the walk, and that's what guy bring Mama Rose all the time when then come to see her. So we knew he must be the guy that needed to be all wet."

Oh, yes... the flowers... my special "get a smile for being so thoughtful" gift for my date. I realized I was no longer holding them in my right hand, and I looked around the ground at my feet to see where they were. After widening my search area, I finally spotted them sitting upside down on top of a well-tended bush about four feet away. Apparently I had flung them away from me when the second balloon hit me in the back of the head, and they had landed there looking only a little worse for wear.

At least they weren't wet and shivering.

Sherree's angry façade was starting to crack, and she kept moving a hand to her mouth to hide the grin that kept threatening to form there. Her voice cracking from the strain of not breaking into laughter, she told the boys in a low voice, "I'm only going to say this once. You are never... EVER... to throw water balloons at anyone in my house ever again. Do you understand?" Chet looked up from the floor, ready to nod his assent, but Charlie was a bit stubborn, thinking he'd done something good for his aunt and wanting more of an explanation. "Charlie, while Mr. King probably isn't hurt on the outside, I think you've probably hurt him a bit on the inside. He doesn't know you boys, and now you've gone and thrown something at him. Look at his clothes! His hair! He was trying to look nice for me, and now you've made him look silly! He's probably angry and embarrassed, and for no good reason. Even if you thought you were doing this because I'd like it, it's wrong to make someone feel bad when they haven't done anything to deserve it."

Charlie thought about this for a moment, and then shared a look with his brother. Without saying anything, they turned, nodded their heads, and said in unison, "We're sorry, Aunt Sher. We promise we won't do it again... without your permission."

Even I had to grin slightly at the cheek of that last.

Sherree nodded, and dismissed them with a wave of her hand. Charlie ran toward the back of the house, but Chet stepped toward the door where I stood basting in the in the noontime sun. With a look of concern, he asked, "Did we really hurt your feelings?"

I looked at him gravely, and in my best serious voice said, "Yes, Chet, you did. But only a little. I'll be alright." I looked up at the window from where'd they'd dropped their water bombs, and then looked at him again with a slight grin. "Besides, at least you didn't drop something even heavier. Like a flower pot. Or a brick."

He looked at me with a kind of "Why would we do that?" expression on his face, shrugged his shoulders and took off after his brother.

That left me drip-drying on the stoop, and Sherree looking at me thoughtfully.

"I'll give you credit," she said with a small grin on her face. "If someone had done that to me, and I had any thought that it had been set-up to embarrass me, I certainly wouldn't be as calm as you are right now. Charlie is a good boy, but I've come to find out he's very protective of those he loves. Apparently, when he heard me talking to my sister..."

I cleared my throat rather loudly, interrupting her. "While I would be glad to continue this conversation later, right now I am starting to prune from the amount of water soaking my clothes. Since I was really looking forward to spending the afternoon with you, maybe you could see your way clear to guiding me to the bathroom, loaning me a towel, and letting me try to dry off as much as possible? Then, if you could loan me something to wear temporarily, you could throw these clothes in the dryer so that I could continue what has certainly become a very unexpected day?"

She had followed what I was saying until the end, but it took her a moment to realize what I was implying. "You still want to stay for brunch?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, of course!" I said, trying to look a bit indignant at the suggestion that I might want to leave. "Of course, if you'd rather I go..." I made as if to turn to head back to my car.

Sherree nearly fell over rushing to the door and grabbing me by the arm before I could walk away. "Well, you might not have encountered much hospitality up to this point, but I hope you'll let me try to make it up to you."

 
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