Chapter 10: Improvisations

Denise reached the table, and threw down her most recent purchase with triumphant exhaustion. Lissa looked up, and stood energetically. I saw the glance the two exchanged, the subtle, disappointed shake of the head Lissa gave her mom. "Here mom, you can sit here -- there's only two chairs. Jason gave the other one away." This last with a flippant gesture of disgust in my direction.

Denise was clearly a bit weary on her feet, and sat gratefully, with a heavy sigh. Lissa stood with her hands on her hips for a moment. Trying to build up the nerve to... "Here, uncle Jason -- let me sit on your lap." I somehow had known it was coming. The lap was ready.

Denise grinned across at her daughter and me, as Lissa perched a little awkwardly on my knee. "Don't harass your uncle, hun," Denise said, gently.

Lissa twisted around, smelling delicious, so close, looking me in the eye. "I'm not harassing you, am I?"

"No Lissa. You're fine."

This lasted a few minutes, until Lissa volunteered to buy her mom something to drink. Denise said sure, and ordered an iced latte or something like that. Lissa got up, using her hand behind herself, on my thigh, to leverage herself up. Pressing unnecessarily hard. Ah ... practicing. She was calmer again, not as agitated as she'd been a few minutes earlier ... perhaps she was feeling back in control.

She was gone some minutes, while Denise and I chatted about what she'd bought. Then after a short silence, she said, "Thank you, Jase."

"For what?" I asked.

"You're so kind. You're being so kind to her."

I shrugged, false modesty. How could a horny heterosexual male between the ages of 12 and 102 not be kind to Lissa? But I didn't say this to Denise.

Lissa returned with her mom's drink, and, after a bit of fidgeting, announced she had to run to the restroom again.

"Too much soda," I volunteered. Though I had a different hypothesis I chose not to share. Denise smiled indulgently.

Denise enjoyed her drink, and announced that "shopping is over" for the day. It was only 1 o'clock. What would we do for the rest of the day?

Lissa returned (still her side buttons undone), and perched again on my knee. Less than a minute passed when Denise announced that she, too, had to use the restroom.

"Oooh, a seat," exclaimed Lissa, melodramatically. And it was almost as if in slow motion: As Denise strolled way, Lissa reached back as before and planted her hand to leverage herself from my lap. But she'd perched more off center, this time, and the hand unerringly landed right on the Johnson family. Very well done, my girl. Push, and launch, and swing around, and sit. Like a gymnast vaulting off a new piece of equipment.

I was impressed, though the fondle had been, inevitably, disappointingly brief. Lissa pretended not to have been even aware what had just happened -- total innocence. The most gratifying moment was when Denise came back up and I caught the victorious nod Lissa delivered to her mom. She might as well have grinned and gestured "thumbs up" like a star athlete.

Now I wondered, what was Denise's plan? Rather than sit down, Denise said we should head back to the car. As we walked back through the mall, Lissa suggested we go to a movie. We decided to put all the bags in the car and see what was playing at the infinityplex next to the mall. A movie was selected -- an action adventure thing that pleased me well enough, and soon enough we were in line buying popcorn and sodas and finding our seats.

The put me in the middle, between them. About a third into the movie, Denise leaned over sharply, to whisper something to her daughter. My hand was on the armrest ... her breast pressed against it ... firmly. Still leaned over, she said, "I'm running to the restroom, k?" And she was off.

That was TOO easy, I thought. Had she planned it, or had she exploited an unexpected opportunity? Maybe, as "Finn," I could find out later on.

Another third into the movie, and Lissa ran to the restroom. "Definitely too much soda," Denise giggled into my ear. I just nodded and watched the show, feeling weird, proprietary, cuddly, husbandy feelings toward my sister. After we exited the movie (which had only been mediocre), both of them needed the restroom again. Who could blame them?

Wait, wait, wait.

We got home about 4:30, and the late fall sun was already setting at these latitudes. Denise began concocting something in the kitchen involving leftover turkey, and Lissa spent some time unpacking their purchases, and then asked her mom and me if she could go on the computer. Denise assented, and I helped my sister in the kitchen, and we all had dinner.

After dinner we cleaned up (Lissa was diligently helpful, impressing me -- up to that point, I'd been wondering if she ever did chores, and hadbeen thinking her mother was perhaps spoiling her a bit). Finally, I bravely fetched my laptop and perched on a corner chair in the living room and fired up, and found my way online again, while Lissa and Denise reviewed their purchases.

Of course, I found an email from Lissa. She described the day with some detail ... not quite the level I've given above, but from a different perspective. Basically, a series of masturbation sessions in dressing rooms and restroom stalls, broken up with some incidental stuff. She said she hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her mom yet, but she did "a fondle" on her uncle, as she put it, "though it was very fast and I didn't feel anything hardly." She described, briefly, what she did, but spent more detail on explaining the failed plan that had preceded it, giving me some insight.

The intention had been to try on some panties at Victoria's Secret, and come out of the dressing room wearing them and ask if they were too tight and somehow get uncle Jason to feel said too-tightness. But Lissa admitted several mistakes: a) she didn't realize how far away the sales clerk would make him sit to wait while she changed; b) she really didn't have a clear plan how to get him to touch her; c) worst of all, the panties she choose were simply far more revealing than she'd expected and when she saw herself in them, she lost her nerve.

Once that plan had failed, that ruined Denise's plan to be the one who groped uncle Jason, and so the rest of the afternoon was improvisation. Finally, she concluded, "I brought myself soo close a couple times, today, but the worst was in the theater -- I nearly came and had to like gulp breaths and was shaking for 5 minutes in the bathroom stall to calm down from it. But I was a good girl. Talk to you later -- Lissa."

As I finished reading the email, Lissa came into the living room. I minimized the windows on my laptop, and looked up at her.

"I think it's time to give mom her Thanksgiving present," she announced.

"Well ... it's really from you, Lissa. Go ahead."

There was some commotion and Lissa had her mom come into the living room and sit on the couch, and she brought in one of the shopping bags. "I got you a Thanksgiving present, mom," she announced.

"That's so sweet, darling," Denise said. "What is it? Pottery Barn?" That was the bag she'd switched the baby doll into at the mall.