Chapter 11

Cheryl lifted her glass. "To the best Sunday I've ever had. And to the uncle who made it happen."

"To the best Sunday you've ever had." I pinged her glass with mine and we sipped.

She gave her glass a skeptical look and then focused on me. "I guess it would have been better with wine, huh?"

I motioned for her to sit and then took my own chair at the patio table. "Of course not. After all, you are much more like hand-squeezed lemonade than Beaujolais."

"I am?" she asked with a skeptical look. Can you believe it? She thought I was joking!

I held up my glass and looked from her to it and back. "Beaujolais is fruity. You aren't the family fruit in either meaning of the word. Lemonade, however, is both sweet and tart."

"Are you calling me a tart?"

The sound of her voice was playful, but I checked her expression for verification before answering. "That's a good question. Let me think. No, I guess not. Maybe later, but not now. By tart, I meant lively, biting, refreshing. Definitely not bland."

She attacked her steak with a knife and fork. "Tart also means sour."

"Sour isn't a bad thing. I love sour lemon drop candies. When my throat is sore, they always make it feel better."

Her voice went from playful to devilish as she looked up from carving her steak. "Do I make you feel better?"

"Who's your favorite uncle?"

She lifted her fork with its bite of impaled steak and pointed it toward me. "Uncle Randy."

"I doubt anything else could make me feel better than the way you just made me feel."

Her mouth moved only to receive a bite of barbecued steak but her eyes said Wanna bet?

She had been a model of good behavior since her driving lesson, with only an occasional lapse. For instance, while preparing lunch she dripped Thousand Island dressing where the syrup had landed at breakfast and asked which topping I liked better. The after we came out of the cool water at the swimming hole, she knelt in front of me, saying she hadn't brought her camera, so she had to memorize how it looked "that small" for later comparison. But she didn't ask if I wanted it warmed up or made bigger or anything similar that I'd expected to hear. And as we were about to leave after sunning on the bank, she looked closely and pronounced, "That's much better. It's back to totally awesome now!"

By dessert time the temperature had dropped quickly and the wind had quickened. "I think we'd better have our ice cream inside."

Cheryl looked around the dark sky. "It's not supposed to rain until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is only a little over three hours away."

"The day went by so quickly." Her voice held a suggestion of sadness.

"The more fun you're having, the faster time moves."

"If that was true, then the day would have gone by in an eyeblink, thanks to you."

I grunted and then, as the words sank in, frowned at her. "Is that an accusation or a compliment?"

"Whichever you like best."

"I like it best as a compliment."

"In that case," she said, rising from her chair and coming around the table to stand beside me, "this goes with it." She gave me a gentle kiss and whispered, "Thanks for a wonderful day, Uncle Randy."

I got the impression that she whispered because she didn't trust her voice to stay steady.

She didn't speak while we cleaned off the table and carried things back into the house. She kept her face averted for the first half of that, but I did see one trickle running down her cheek, and the rain hadn't started yet. I knew she got along better with Marek than with Mandy, but I'd bet ten bucks he'd never experienced the sincere thank you I'd received.

We carried our bowls of ice cream into the living room. She declined anything on television, saying she'd rather sit on the couch next to me and not be distracted by "junk." Halfway through the ice cream, her melancholy had given way to impishness. I guess it was her way of achieving balanced karma.

She raised her face to mine, used the back of her spoon to smear melted ice cream across her puckered lips, and made kissy noises. It reminded me of her second birthday party, only not nearly as messy. After I kissed her, she opened her still-puckered mouth just enough to say, "You didn't get it all."

When I hesitated, her eyes turned pleading. Telling myself that I didn't want to ruin her best Sunday ever, I wrapped my lips around hers and sucked off the ice cream. The eyes turned sparkling, then concerned as I pulled back.

"Wait a sec. You have some..." Her head moved forward and her tongue shot out, licking the corner of my mouth. That was all. It was the most innocent-looking thing in the world. And yet...

"Well!" she said, all bright and happy while looking at my lap. "Look who wants to play! DON'T MOVE THAT ARM!" Miss Day Care to Ms Drill Sergeant in the blink of an eye. "I told you not to worry when you get a boner. You just let it do whatever it wants and eat your ice cream. In fact, since you didn't do what I told you, you have to eat some of mine."

"I'm being punished with ice cream? Damn. I wish you'd been my mom!"

"Really?" Ever notice that women have this expression they use that says, "You did exactly what I wanted you to do"? They use it in a way that indicates you followed their plan and trapped yourself. Even if you didn't follow any plan and accidentally stumbled into the trap, they still give you that look, so you can never be certain whether it was an accident or they'd really outsmarted you. Anyway, that was the look now on Cheryl's face as she shifted to kneel on the couch beside me.

She stirred the spoon in the bowl, coating it, and then smeared it across a nipple, which immediately erected from the chill. "I happen to know you were breast fed." Which was true. You'd have to be both brain dead and deaf to miss any of Mom's tirades against formulas and bottle feeding.

"Cheryl..."

"Quiet. You're being punished, remember? Besides that, I need to know if you like ice cream better than vanilla syrup."

I made a face. "French toast with strawberry ice cream for breakfast?"

She smeared the other nipple with the melted cream. "Now you're being punished for disobeying my order to be quiet." She sounded way too much like Mandy for comfort. "Guess where it goes the next time you disobey."

I was afraid I knew, so I stayed quiet. I started with the second breast because it received the most ice cream and was in danger of dripping, which was the other reason I didn't argue.

"Don't leave any behind."

She whimpered as my tongue scrubbed the firm pinkness. That didn't help with the boner problem. After I cleaned the second one she sighed and asked, "Which did you like best?"

"I think the ice cream."

"Good." Then the deviltry returned. "Which boob did you like best?"

"Huh? I mean ... well, I don't know. I liked them both the same."

"Shouldn't you like one better than the other?" She again coated the spoon. "Try again."

Yes, I know I should have refused. I knew it then. But I also knew she was having her best Sunday ever, and I didn't want to be a party pooper until I absolutely had to. Besides that, it wasn't like it was the first time I'd licked anything from those small perfect mounds with their firm pink knobs. And the way she giggled and laughed when I did it brought back memories of my playing building blocks with her all those years ago when I babysat her.

We'd both eat a spoonful and then she'd smear some of hers on her tasty treats because I couldn't decide which one I liked best. Finally I had to admit that I wasn't capable of preferring one over the other.

"Well, if you can't make a decision," she said, sliding a spoonful into her mouth and then shoving the spoon in-and-out between her pursed lips, "then I guess you're back to being Uncle Mandy again. Look at that! I think somebody's ready to play again. You know, I could use a cone for the rest of my ice cream."

"Sweetheart, no."

"Okay." She scooped out the last spoonful, then licked the bottom of the spoon slowly and carefully. "But if you want to change your mind," she practically deep throated the spoon, taking half the ice cream off it before removing it from her mouth, "I'll give you one more chance."

Where did a girl who was a virgin and who never saw a boner before learn to do that? Ricky says they're born that way, but that's never been my experience. The two or three first-timers I've had required instructions on suction, speed, motion, and especially attention to how the teeth were occupied. I hated myself for doing so, though I knew I would hate myself worse in the morning if I gave in, but I again said no. That was good for more deep throating and licking the spoon, as well as a kiss before she collected the spoons and bowls and took them to the dishwasher. Mister Rampaging Erection shrank again by the time she'd added the detergent, run the water until it was hot, and started the dishwasher.

When she returned she quickly sat sideways across my lap and entwined my neck in her arms.

"Uh, Cheryl, I'm not sure that..."

"Well, I'm sure. I'm sure that you've made me the happiest niece in the country. And I'm sure it's time for the last check and then we need to get to bed. After all, this is a working ranch and we have work to do tomorrow." She gave me another quick kiss, thanked me again, and jumped to her feet. She offered me a hand up, saying she was supposed to be nice to her elders.

We slipped on shoes, fetched an apple, and opened the door. "Uncle Randy, it's raining. Do think I should wear a plastic neckerchief to keep my clothes dry?"

"I think you're still a smart ass. And, yes, you still have a cute little ass."

She led the way out into the light rain. "And a happy one. It felt excellent having that big wonderful thing next to it."

Nothing I could say wouldn't make things worse, so I said nothing. She took my free hand and giggled most of the way to the barn. She fed the apple to Buena Vista and said, "I hope you had a day as nice as mine." Then she cooed and fussed over Blaze while I stroked Buena Vista's neck.

"You know something, Blaze?"

I don't know about Blaze, but I knew something from the sound of Cheryl's voice. I knew that something was coming, and I was the target.

"Some day you're going to meet a stallion that's as sweet and kind and wonderful to you as Uncle Randy is to me. He'll love you the way Uncle Randy loves me, and you'll love him the way I love Uncle Randy, and you'll think that you have just had the best day of your life, too."

The words were designed to relax me and drop my guard, thinking the lightning wasn't about to strike. It wasn't one of Mandy's tricks, but it was one of Junior's that he got from Dad. Sure enough, after another two sentences of build-up, Cheryl raised an arm and pointed.

"And if you're lucky, he'll have a boner that's at least as big and awesome as Uncle Randy's!"