Sky's the Limit
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 3: Skeletons in the Closet
“HELP! AN OLD CREEPER! Save me!” Debbie screamed, pelting down the hall to Brent’s room.
She’d only been living in the Drake mansion a couple of days. It had taken years for her to convince Brent she should live with him. She’d intended to make this a little celebration for the two of them and had crept down the hall toward Brent’s room to celebrate with him. She was only wearing a sheer negligee and slippers. She threw herself against Brent’s door.
From her room to his room. It wasn’t exactly cohabiting. She’d moved into the mansion, but not into his room. That was okay. She liked her independence and now that she lived in the mansion, she had servants and meals and even a nice allowance Brent was giving her.
And an old creeper! She’d been quietly slipping down the hall when she saw him near the stairs. She’d met Brent’s father, David, and this wasn’t him. He was around the same age, though, and just wearing a bathrobe, carrying a glass of milk and plate of cookies. He stared right at her, his gaze sweeping up and down over her nearly naked body. She’d screamed and run to Brent’s door, pushing it open and rushing inside.
Her boyfriend was wearing only a pair of boxers as he stood beside his bed, naked from the waist up, showing a slight paunch already, even though he wasn’t yet thirty. She quickly turned her back to him as she shut his door.
“Debbie? What are you doing?” he asked.
“I was ... I was just ... coming to give you a little late-night snack,” she panted. “But ... But there was...”
“This is a house, not a cheap motel,” Brent growled grabbing her shoulders. “You can’t run around dressed like this. People live here!”
“I wasn’t ... There was a creepy old man who stared at me. He was going to rape me,” Debbie said.
“Nonsense!” Brent said.
He opened his door and a man dressed in a bathrobe, with a glass of milk and plate of cookies, was standing there, staring at his door.
“Pretty girl!” he said, gesturing toward Debbie. “Nice.”
Debbie tried to hide herself behind Brent.
“Uncle Matt, this is my girlfriend, Debbie. I thought I’d get a chance to introduce her at breakfast.” He pulled Debbie up beside him, negligent of how exposed she was in her filmy nightie. “She won’t run around like this anymore.”
“Okay. Nice. Run around like this all the time,” Matt chuckled, waving with the glass of milk, then taking a drink from it, leaving a milky mustache on his lip.
“Debbie, Uncle Matt lives here. Say hello and don’t upset him,” Brent instructed.
“Hello ... um ... Uncle Matt,” she croaked out. “Brent, you have to protect me.”
“There’s nothing to protect you from. Just don’t try to touch my uncle. He doesn’t like people to touch him,” Brent instructed. “Goodnight, Uncle Matt. We’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Night-night,” the older man said. “Nice to see you.”
He nodded toward Debbie, making her even more self-conscious, then continued down the hall. Brent pulled her back into his room and closed the door.
“Why does he live here?” Debbie demanded. “He scared me half to death and leered at me.”
Brent held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down. The translucent nightie really didn’t cover much. He chuckled.
“Well, if you run around like this, even my father and the staff will stare at you,” he said. “I’m certainly going to stare at you.”
Debbie tried unsuccessfully to cover herself with her hands. Oh well. She came here to have sex with him. She was just weirded out by the old man.
“He’s really your uncle?” she asked.
“Yes. Technically, he owns this place. Dad bought it in his name so no one could claim Uncle Matt was being abused. There are full-time staff here to take care of him. Half a dozen people besides Dad, Uncle Matt, and us live here. You need to get used to it. If you want to run around undressed, everyone will want a peek. Uncle Matt looked like he got quite a thrill.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He has savant syndrome, according to professionals. Or maybe he’s just severely autistic. He’s a brilliant computer software developer, but he doesn’t really function well in any other capacity. Drake Assistive Technology was founded by Dad and based on the developmental work of Uncle Matt. But Uncle Matt can’t stand to be around more than one or two people at a time and you heard him speak as much as any of us ever have,” Brent said.
“He developed Drake Assistive Technology?” Debbie asked to confirm. Maybe she would need to be especially nice to the old man.
“Yes. Dad’s his official guardian and he’s hired expert caretakers for him. But our family’s wealth is all based on Uncle Matt’s computer code. Point him at a problem and he’ll develop an AI app that will take care of it. Most of the staff at DAT works on user interface, code review, and marketing.”
“How old is he?” she asked.
“He’s fifty-six,” Brent answered. “Three years older than Dad. He isn’t dangerous, so you don’t need to worry about that. But don’t blame him for staring at you. He has normal male urges but doesn’t like to touch or be touched by anyone. He’s probably in his room drinking his milk with one hand and stroking his meat with the other.”
“I didn’t know. I’ll be more careful,” Debbie said. Careful to make sure he gets little peeks. It couldn’t hurt to have a member of the rich older generation being nice to her.
“Now, about why you were sneaking down the hall to my room dressed like a call girl. Were you making a room visit?” Brent asked, stroking his girlfriend’s waist and hips as he drew her to him.
“I just thought you might want to have a little snack yourself,” she giggled, kissing him. She’d rather establish the control of visiting him rather than having him coming to her room. She could manipulate him better this way.
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