Chapter 2

Oh Daniel

Ashley did order the larger stepladder for next day delivery, but it didn’t matter. Ashley decided that the floor in the reading room needed cleaning. It’s got these shiny big tiles, and I guess we’d never really paid much attention to how grungy they were getting.

Ashley decided it wouldn’t do to have Aunt Clair see how inept our housekeeping was, so she set to work. She mopped the tiles and buffed them dry and mopped them again, and then she waxed them. They looked nice. Super glossy, but actually I think they looked nice before. I think that grungy look was the way they were supposed to look. Kind of like desert stone or something. Anyway, Ashley decided to give the glossy tiles one more bit of buffing, and the tile was so slippery her feet went out from under her and she landed on her ass.

Luckily she wasn’t hurt—just her ego, the slightest bruise. In case you haven’t figured it out, Ashley has about as healthy an ego as you can get. Which is fitting, really. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Anyway, now she was miffed. “Fucking tile,” she said, accusing it almost as if it were being the way it was on purpose just to irk her.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Cover it with a non-slip rug,” she said. “That’ll teach it.” See, she and the tile really were locked in a battle.

Aunt Clair was due to arrive in two days, so Ashley decided getting the rug from Amazon was cutting it too close. We drove out to the mall, and Ashley found a rug. It looked nice, and I think it went with the room.

Back home Ashley laid the rug. Since it was only about five feet by three feet, this wasn’t hard. Then she walked on it, back and forth about sixteen times. Then she took off her shoes and walked on it some more. “I think it’s good,” she told me. “Take off your shoes and test it.”

I took off my shoes and tested the rug. It felt good. Soft and comfortable.

“Test it the rest of the way,” Ashley said.

“Um, what do you mean the rest of the way?” I asked.

The rest of the way turned out to mean taking off all my clothes and lying on the rug. It felt nice. I probably could have fallen asleep on it.

But it turned out that wasn’t all that the rest of the way meant. The full test, according to Ashley, had to include vigorous sex. I was a little doubtful. I mean I couldn’t imagine how that would apply to Aunt Clair, but Ashley can be both insistent and persistent. Is there a difference?

“We need to see what happens when you’re at your peak of frenzy. The rug better not bunch or slip or slide.”

I wasn’t sure what her plan was if the rug should bunch or slip or slide—super glue it to the tile? But I didn’t really get a chance to ask because Ashley had Mister Blue in hand and turned on. I guess I was a little turned on too. Maybe that “peak of frenzy” expression had its influence.

“Oh yeah,” Ashley said. “Mister Blue can’t wait to taste your Ms. Pink.”

Before I could protest, not that I would have, Mister Blue was tasting my Ms. Pink. Oh goodness was he ever. I have no idea whether the rug was bunching or slipping or sliding, all I know was I was coming and coming and coming. Mister Blue was doing his stuff and Ashley had a finger or two in my ass and I was on the edge of orgasm number five or six or fifteen when I noticed someone staring down at me. “Is this your friend Emily?” the someone said. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to spoil your cum.”

She didn’t spoil it, exactly, she just made it different, maybe even more intense. Even so, I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed.

Ashley took it more or less in stride. “Clair,” she said. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to come until ... what day is it?”

“Today is today,” Clair said. “Mind if I join you?”

So you see why the larger stepladder is no longer needed.

Love
Your Emily

PS Oh, and Aunt Clair turned out to be Cousin Clair and she is not short at all.