Chapter 23: Irresistible Force

Part IV: Trilogy

A photograph is a secret about a secret
The more it tells you, the less you know
- D.A.

I awoke with a start. It was the sound of my bedroom door squeaking open that had done it.

Heather!

I opened my eyes just in time to see something strange flying rapidly toward me. My hands shot up reflexively, but the foreign object landed gently on my middle. I caught a glimpse of Lara’s smiling face through the gap of the door as it closed.

A paper airplane. I held up the jet and unfolded it. Lara had drawn a crude picture of two stick figures – apparently Heather and I kissing – with a swirl of hearts floating above us. The anatomical detail was pitiable, but I had to guess that we were naked since I sported a third leg and Heather had a rounded ‘w’ drawn across her chest. Another stick figure with a sad face and a plethora of tears was riding a bike, moving toward a rudimentary village called ‘Boringville’ on the edge of the page. Lara had scrawled a message below the unquestionable masterpiece.

Aren’t you a lucky boy today. Just checked the house and everyone is gone, gone, gone. I couldn’t wake up so I’m not going on the trip but I am going to bike into town and do a whole bunch of absolutely nothing. Then when I’m done with that I’m going to go somewhere else and do absolutely nothing. At eleven I have an appointment with no one. I’ll be home for lunch though, so wrap that shit up by then. Unless you want me to watch! Heat is turned up to “get naked and fuck.” You’re welcome but you also owe me big because it’s really fucking cold out to be biking somewhere just to do absolutely nothing! And also because you are a fucky lucking bastard.

- Your lovingest sis, Lara

I grinned as I reread the note a few times. It was pointless trying to sleep now. Still, some physical rest would at least be helpful. I lay back in bed, trying to keep my mind from fantasizing completely out of control. A whole morning, home alone with Heather. My god.

Lara was making noise in the kitchen. I lingered in that space somewhere between the edge of sleep and the haze of early morning, until she left with a deliberate slam of the front door, surely for my benefit. The garage roared open and then closed. All was silent.

Now the waiting.

I was reduced to staring feverishly out of my window by the time Heather finally came into view. She was bundled up in a heavy coat, hat, and mittens, hefting an even larger limb than the one from the day before. She laughed when she saw my face in the pane, tossing the now superfluous tree aside. I gestured to the front door and then ran to let her in.

“Wow, looks like someone’s been a bit impatient this morning!” she greeted, her breath puffing out vapor as she spoke. “How long have you been standing at the window?”

“I’ve been up for a little while,” I said evasively. I closed out the cold air and then gave her a morning kiss.

“What’s the word then?” she asked softly.

“Coast is clear,” I said grandly, grinning much too widely. I couldn’t help it, though.

“Well, then,” Heather murmured, her face drawing into a serious stare. She raised an eyebrow at me. “How long will they be out?”

“Until afternoon, at least!” I blurted out, unable to contain my excitement. “Lara didn’t go, though.”

Heather glanced at the open bedroom door and then looked at me with inquisitive eyes.

“But, she biked into town, like an hour ago,” I continued. “She’ll be back for lunch. We have a couple of hours to ourselves!”

“She knows I’m here, then.”

“Yeah. And obviously she knows exactly what we’ll be doing,” I said with a little laugh.

“I really doubt that,” Heather said, amused.

“Funny. She totally knows what we’ll be up to.”

“No, I’m serious, she doesn’t. Do you see me wearing the heels?”

“No, but ... Is that the pillow in there?” I asked, patting her knapsack.

She gave me an offended look. “Of course not!”

“Okay. So what are we doing then?”

“The Herring project is on hold for now. I need to finish another photo project, so we’re going to play a little game!”

“A game? What game? Have you been talking to Lara?”

“Of course I’ve been talking to her. But this isn’t her game or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

She stepped over to the couch and swung her backpack off.

“How do we play?” I asked.

“We’re going to see how observant Mr. Matt is.”

I shrugged. “All right.”

Heather took a red shoebox out of the backpack. I rolled my eyes as she placed it on the coffee table.

“And voilà, enter the shoes,” I said dramatically.

Heather let out a resigned laugh. “Caught! You know me too well!” she replied.

“Of course I do,” I said confidently.

Heather patted the sofa cushion beside her as she sat.

“Don’t you want to take your coat and stuff off? I turned the heat way up. I thought you said you were going to be nude all morning!”

Heather shrugged. “I’m still a little cold from the walk. I’ll take them off in a bit. Hopefully.”

Hopefully? I shrugged and plopped down next to her. She opened the shoe box top and pulled out...

A stack of photo mats? She set them on the table, upside-down. I could see the backs of three photographs taped to the top mat, presumably showing their contents through three cut-out rectangles on the front side.

I looked at her questioningly, but found her putting on a pair of sunglasses. I gaped at her.

“What’s this about? Are we going skiing or something?”

Heather giggled. “It’s part of the game.”

“Yeah, but how do we play? And aren’t you boiling hot?”

She ignored me and flipped over the first mat board, rather deftly for the thickness of her mittens. She handed it to me. There were indeed three pictures showing through the windows of the mat. Lara was on the left, Heather was in the center, and a girl I didn’t recognize was in the third position.

“You have to guess which one is me,” Heather stated with deceptive simplicity.

I frowned at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

An easier task could not be asked. What’s the trick?

“I just point to the picture of you?” I confirmed.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hmm,” I murmured theatrically. “I wonder which one is you! Tough one.”

I pointed to the unknown girl. “This one?”

“Nope, sorry,” Heather said wistfully. She grabbed the board out of my hand before I could react.

“I was kidding, obviously!” I protested.

“Sorry. You only get one guess,” she announced, amusement creeping onto her face.

“Wish I’d known that before I started! Do over?”

“Nope.”

Of course not.

“Are we keeping score or something? And why are you wearing your sunglasses in here?”

Heather shrugged and handed me the next mat. It also contained a set of three pictures. Three pictures of braided hair. The middle one was clearly not Heather’s, but the other two had the right tone, at least in black-and-white. I studied the photos and then looked at Heather, but her hair was tucked up under her winter hat.

“You can take off your coat and hat,” I urged. “The heat is turned up.”

“Believe me, I know that,” Heather breathed.

Naturally, she did not budge, so I contemplated the pictures a bit longer. Finally I pointed to the third one.

Heather nodded. “Number three has it!” she called out. She pulled her hat off, a grateful smile crossing her lips. “Thank you for getting it right. It is kind of hot in here.”

“This whole thing is your idea,” I reminded her.

The next set was of upturned hands. I didn’t even need to look at Heather to know hers were still concealed inside of her mittens. The disguise made perfect sense now. I looked at the remaining stack of mats. There were about fifteen of them.

“When did you do all these?”

“Remember my photo project from a few weeks ago?”

I thought back. “Oh, yeah, Trilogy ... Now I get it. I didn’t realize you did so many, though.”

“Most of them I didn’t do for class, obviously.”

“Obviously?”

“Hurry up, Matt! I’m melting here.”

I pointed to the third picture again. “Third one?”

“Number three has it!”

Heather removed her gloves and then handed me the next set. Three feminine necks taken from behind. I laughed as I looked at her, noticing that her coat collar was zipped up tight.

“First one,” I said after a moment.

“You’re pretty good,” Heather breathed, standing to take her coat off. “I was a little worried that I’d be wearing this thing all morning!”

“Is it too early to get excited about where this is going?” I asked, indicating the stack.

“Depends how confident you are in your observational skills, Mr. Matt!”

“Feeling pretty good, I have to say!”

“Can you get me a cup of water?”

It seemed an odd request, but maybe she was just thirsty. Still, I kept a wary eye on her as I went to the kitchen. She didn’t do anything strange, though. When I returned with the plastic cup, she took a sip and set it on the table.

“Thanks,” she said sweetly.

The next set was composed of close-ups of single eyes. That was cake. Number two had it.

“The sunglasses were pointless, because I’d recognize your eyes anywhere,” I said confidently as Heather removed the shades.

She winked at me. “On a roll!” she chirped, handing me the next set. She took her water cup in hand and put it to her mouth.

Puckered lips. This was a bit harder. I was usually kissing her lips when they were like this, not looking at them. I glanced at Heather and started laughing. She was still drinking, or pretending to drink.

“Should’ve picked a clear glass,” I muttered. “Kiss?” I asked, offering my lips.

Heather shook her head.

I sighed. “Fine. Um ... Number one?”

She smiled sadly as she put the cup back down. “Sorry!”

“Damn, are you serious? Which then?”

She shrugged. “Moving on.”

I felt lame, having missed on her sweet lips. In my defense, the pictures were all very similar, but still.

High heels, now. The high heels. Three pairs of feet, all in the same shoes. I’d been seeing them a lot that weekend, so I was pretty sure it was the middle photo. I pointed.

“Number two has it!” she sang. She removed her sneakers, wiggling her toes in their white socks before tucking them under her. She grinned at me.

“Too bad you messed up the hard one at the start, though. You’re behind, now.”

I laughed. “I guess there’s no way to get back ahead, huh?”

“Not really. Sometimes life just sucks,” she said with a shrug.

She handed me a set of bare shoulders. The similarity of the poses was remarkable. The shoulders in the pictures clearly belonged to different people, but Heather had somehow managed to get photos that were uncannily similar.

“Hmm.”

It became harder as the game went on. I missed on the shoulders, but got lucky on the pair of crossed arms. The socks came off. I checked the stack of mats that remained: about eight or nine to go. How many pieces of clothing was she wearing? Five or six, perhaps. I had to be careful, but hopefully I still had a little breathing room even if I missed one or two more. Then again, for all I knew she might have twelve t-shirts on underneath her sweater.

Three sets of calves, from behind, standing on tiptoe. The pictures were becoming more arousing, which was unfortunately clouding my judgment.

“These are tough,” I said.

“You obviously don’t check me out nearly enough, then.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I only see you for a few days every month.”

Heather smiled longingly. “I’ll let you look at me all day today, if you want. Study every inch of me.”

I nodded eagerly, then returned my attention to the question at hand. I closed my eyes, imagining her in the red dress, retrieving those searing mental images from the archive of my brain.

“The middle one.”

“Number two has it!” she exclaimed.

Heather smiled as she peeled off her sweater. I caught a glimpse of a second shirt beneath her long-sleeved shirt as it pulled up slightly. Jeans, two shirts, and presumably bra and underpants were left. Seven sets of pictures. That meant three more strikes and I’d be out of luck.

Luck wasn’t on my side, because the next set was pretty much impossible. Three photos of gently curving skin against a deep black background. The prints were grainy, as if blown up quite a bit. The contrast was so high that I wasn’t even sure what the they showed. It was just a set of curved white areas, with hardly any definition or texture of any kind. A hip, maybe? Butts, bent over?

“Jeez, Heather.”

I stared for another full minute, turning the set sideways and upside-down. I desperately tried to place the curve into a larger, imagined body, but it was hopeless. I had no idea what I was even looking at, let alone which one was Heather.

“The first one?” I offered.

She sat quietly for a long moment, her face deeply satisfied with the entertainment I was providing. Then she broke out into wild laughter.

“Matt, the first one’s not even a body part! It’s the back of one of our kitchen chairs!”

I winced sheepishly, remembering the round-backed cream colored melamine chairs from the Martins’ kitchen.

“How the fuck was I supposed to guess this one?” I cried.

“I don’t know!” she cried, between fits of giggles. “I couldn’t resist, though! You ... you picked the chair!”

She was too busy laughing to pass me the next set, so I took it from the pile myself—only after sending a most disapproving look her way, though.

I breathed a sigh of relief, noticing small faces peeking through holes cut out of a big wooden board. The positive feeling quickly passed as I realized I didn’t recognize Heather right away. Or rather, they all kind of looked like Heather. Heavy stage makeup made the three girls look similar. The picture was taken from far away so that the faces were about the size of a pea. The details were a little grainy, and the more I tried to concentrate on the faces, the less clear they became. The painted patterns that encircled the faces were messing with my eyes.

Were they all Heather? I wouldn’t put it past her. Maybe she was gifting me a gimme. I spent a good five minutes looking, deliberating, trying to read the answer from her real face, and eventually deciding that the first one was definitely Heather. The others probably were too, or else she had some eerily similar-looking friends.

“Number one?”

“Number one has it!”

The long-sleeved shirt came off, to my great relief. A black tank top emerged as the next hurdle. Could’ve used this look for the shoulders.

Heather passed me the next set, still occasionally bursting out in a fit of giggles at my earlier response.

“A chair!” she’d titter.

Naked backs, taken from the back, from neck down to flared waist. Easy, since I loved this view of her. But the other models were kind of exciting too, I had to say. Again the symmetry and consistency was amazing. The girls had the same curve to their spines, and each shot was cropped identically. Photographically speaking, the sets were impressively consistent.

“Number three.”

Heather grinned. “Are you sure?”

“Now I am!” I whooped, noticing that her hands had involuntarily moved to the hem of her shirt before she could stop them.

“Number three has it!” I exclaimed triumphantly.

She rolled her eyes and pulled off her tank top. A bright red bra remained, lighting her form on fire.

“Ooh!” I cooed. “That’s hot!”

Heather just wiggled her eyebrow at me. There were still the jeans and presumably a pair of underwear, as well. Four picture sets to go, but it was becoming harder to take my eyes off of Heather with each passing victory. I dialed back the excitement, though, because I still had to bat a difficult .750 to win.

Unfortunately my arousal grew a lot more at the sight of the next set. Three naked girls from the hips up to the clavicles, covering their breasts with their hands. Each had a different flower tucked between their crossed forearms, dangling down in front of their belly buttons. Each girl also had a different Chinese character painted over her sternum.

“Who the hell did you get to model for these?” I asked, feeling a bit strange about having to look at these other girls in front of her.

“Can’t tell you,” Heather answered.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say they were all you. But obviously, they aren’t.”

“Nope, they definitely aren’t.”

“Still, I can’t figure out how you got such similar shots.”

“Magic! And if you want to get it right, you better study them all really closely! Even the ones that aren’t me!”

She grinned at me. Evidently Heather didn’t care if I did study them.

“Number two.”

“Ooh, you are good. Number two it is.”

Heather stood up and unbuttoned her jeans. She made a bit of a show as she slid out of them. As the matching bright red bottoms were revealed, I was so tempted to skip the game and jump her right then. Cutely clad only in panties and bra, she sat again, passing me the third to last set with a huge grin. The odds were looking better and better. I flipped the set over.

“Holy crap!” I breathed.

Breasts. Profile shots, silhouetted darkly against a bright background. This might not be so easy, I realized. I still had one guess to fuck up, but my pride was even more at stake as we got to these intimate photos. I couldn’t help wondering who else’s breasts I was also looking at. I wondered if one of them was possibly Lara, although that seemed extremely unlikely. The picture of Lara in the very first mat set had been from one Heather took during our summer visit, but the rest would’ve been an impossible feat, even for Heather.

I focused on the task at hand again, trying to imagine the curve of Heather’s breast when she was partly bent over, as in the pose within the photos. Somewhat like last night, I realized. The scene flashed into my head, drawing my eyes to the central window.

“Middle?”

Heather grinned. I knew I had it before she even said, “Number two has it.”

Then she reached seductively behind her back to unclasp her bra. She drew the process out significantly. As a result, my penis was about to rip through the denim of my jeans. Her breasts now free, she tossed the bra toward me and stretched back on the couch.

“You just need to get one out of two right, and then I’m all yours,” she murmured. The pervasive arousal in her voice was excessive, so I grabbed the next set myself, unable to wait for her to finish stretching luxuriantly.

A composition of butts. Bent over at the waist, I eventually realized, with some strange lighting that made it mostly a study in shadows. I had a pretty good idea which one was her. I had seen this pose the night before as well. I grinned, the feel of victory touching my words.

“What happens if I get this one?” I asked.

“Then you win. Duh!”

“There is one more set. What if I get that one right too? Bonus territory?”

Heather contemplated for only an instant. “You don’t get to see it, if you win now.”

“But I want to see it!”

“Then maybe you should get this one wrong,” she suggested simply.

“What? No!”

“As soon as I’m naked, I want you to carry me to your room and finish the preview you showed me last night. And then, I want many reruns. So no more pictures if you win.”

My insides were so agitated that I could hardly think. What to do? The last set could be hard. If I sacrificed on the butts, I might get another set of god-damned furniture shots and then who knew what the hell would happen. Sex was inevitable, so I wasn’t that worried. Then again, Heather probably had some plan for me if I failed the game. That could make my arousal completely unbearable. I eyed the set one last time and made my decision.

“Number one.”

Several things happened at once. Heather immediately leaned forward and slammed her hand down on the last picture set. She’d anticipated that I would lunge for it in an attempt to catch a glimpse, and she was right. I got there a moment too late.

More importantly, though, I heard an unwelcome sound. The engine noise that was intruding on my victory was very familiar. That characteristic vibration was unmistakable. And it was pulling into my aunt’s driveway. Right now!

“What the hell?” I said, as I shot to my feet in bewilderment.

I stepped toward the front window to get a look at the driveway, sure that I was imagining things.

Nope, I wasn’t. Sarah was just opening the door to our car and gathering her things from the passenger seat. I almost spat my heart out.

“Fuck, it’s my mom!” I blurted out.

Then I stood there transfixed in a momentary state of shock. My mind whirled to make sense of this. Heather’s surprisingly calm voice knocked me back to the situation.

“I thought she was gone.”

“Quick!” I grabbed the immense throw blanket from the easy chair and tossed it at Heather as she grabbed for her clothes.

“Just cover up with this!” I cried. “No time to dress. She’s coming right now!”

The sound of the car door closing outside violently punctuated the mad rush of those frenzied seconds. I tried unsuccessfully to put the pictures back into the shoebox. In my haste, half the sets fell to the floor. I gathered them as best I could and had to settle for a messy angled stack that I covered loosely with the box cover. I sat back on the couch and pushed Heather’s blazing red bra down into the crack between the cushions, just as my mom climbed the porch steps and came into view. She looked at us through the window, giving a small wave.

I realized we were seconds from being screwed, and not the kind of screwed I thought it would be by now. It would be so, so obvious once she entered the house. Fortunately nothing untoward was on the floor, but there would be no easy way out of this one, regardless. Heather was inexplicably and ridiculously wrapped up to her chin in a blanket on the couch. This fact would be even more telling to my mom than if I had nailed Lara’s paper airplane note to the front door.