Uncle John's Bathroom Readers の小説・ストーリー

John was hopping mad at her uncle, asking him what rights did he have to call the shots and cremate her mother’s body before waiting for him to come back. Her uncle, who had always been quiet, suddenly beat John out of anger. Her uncle was like a madman then. “John Garcia, put your hand over your heart and examine your conscience. Aren’t you aware of what you’ve done to her behind her back? I’m telling you, she already knew about all your scandals. This funeral is what she wanted. It’s what she told me to do before she left us!”

My uncle was a fine specimen of a man. Not wanting to listen to them change positions and go at it again, I quietly trudged to my room, the sounds of their coupling accompanying me. Climbing up the stairs, I made it to my room and shut the door behind me, lying down on the bed. My pussy still throbbed but no amount of self pleasure will ever be the same as the real thing, and that was unattainable as my uncle was out of reach.

I had spent ten years in his company, but it was nothing compared to Yulia, who had just come back. I kept caressing my pregnancy diary in the gloomy and dark basement. The book ended up counting down my last days in this world. “Miss Cooper, you have to deliver this bowl of soup to Miss Little,” a maid said with arrogance, then forced a bowl of hot soup into my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Mr. Graham. How could he let a murderer stay here?” The soup splashed a little and burned the base of my thumb, forming a few blisters.

“Oh, my goodness. This needs us to go to the Jacuzzi. I want you to tell me all the details.” “Are you not listening to me? I can’t go out on a date.” “Uncle, that’s not fair.” “Why am I not surprised?” he exhales. “I need you to submit the reports about the court cases, and that’s final.” He storms out of the room. “Who is your date?” Linda asks as if her uncle didn’t walk out of the room like he wanted to throw something against the wall. “Nam Ji-Hwan.” “No!” she gasps. Her hands are on her cheeks, and her eyes are as wide as plates; it’s almost comical.

*** The front door creaked as I stepped inside, expecting the familiar smell of dust, leftover whiskey, and stale cigar smoke. But the air was empty. Not just the air, the whole damn house. Gone. The worn leather sofa where I’d cried myself to sleep after Mom left? Gone. The kitchen table with burn marks from my terrible attempt at making crème brûlée for Father’s birthday? Gone. My bedroom, the only space that had been mine, was gutted. No bed. No closet. Not even the chipped mug I kept on the windowsill filled with pens that didn’t work.

As I walked down the hall, I heard the water running in our shower in the bathroom. As I reached the bathroom door, I saw it was wide open. I looked inside to find Uncle Ray in the shower. Do not ask me why, but our shower had a clear see-through shower curtain. I think it was because mom was afraid someone would Hitchcock her like in ones of in movies.

I replied to him honestly. "Does it makes you horny while you voyeur at me in the bathroom, Nicklaus?" Uncle asked softly as his hand slowly moved and caressed my shoulder. "Yes, it makes me hornier, uncle, you're so fucking hot," I admit though I'm a little bit embarrassed. "I want to taste you too, Nicklaus," Uncle said and my eyes widened in disbelief upon hearing what uncle just said.

And soon. “Ah, I see we’re back in the land of the living.” A voice, filled with amusement, has me peeling my face from the toilet seat and jerking around to face him. It’s a mistake. It feels like my stomach is trying to force itself up into my throat. I swallow. Hard. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I force myself to rise. There’s something about the glint in Uncle Glynn’s eyes that makes me want to be on my feet, instead of low to the ground, trapped in the corner of the bathroom.

they asked. I looked around the room. My eyes stopped on one person. "It's you," I said. "Isn't it, Uncle John?" Uncle John's face turned white. He stood up fast, knocking over his chair. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he yelled. But I could see in his eyes. He was scared. "The numbers don't lie," I said. "You've been taking money for years." Uncle John looked around the room. Then he ran for the door.

Maybe I should just stay here, let whatever loose Lombardi or Coppola soldier find me to end the confusion. No. Mama and Baba raised me better than that. Calimerises don’t give up. I scrub the tears off my face and sit up just as the front door slams open. “All right, let’s whip this place into some kind of fucking shape,” Uncle John says, his voice muted by the distance between Dante’s office and the front foyer. “Where does Dino keep his papers?” Someone replies. Maybe several someones. I can’t make out the words. “Because I’m the fucking boss now,” Uncle John snaps.