Agents of Literary Change
A Different Kind of Thanksgiving Tale (Adults Only)
Thanksgiving Day
Jarvis only came to this year’s Thanksgiving dinner because the doctors didn’t think Nana would last another six months, and she wanted all her family to get together for the holiday on what would likely be her last one.
He hadn’t been home for the family’s traditional dinner in six years, and if he had his way he’d never come back. At least not as long as his cousin Brenda was coming too. And he knew that she made the trip from DC down to Tampa every year.
Brenda had made her late grand entrance into Nana’s living room wearing a white floor length mink that probably cost more than his beat up ten year old Honda Civic when it was brand new. And he’d bought the car used. He couldn’t afford a new car. That thought pissed him off. When Brenda pranced in with her little boy in tow Jarvis had to grit his teeth and look away. Just laying eyes on her made his blood boil.
Over dinner he’d avoided looking at her, but every so often in his peripheral vision he’d catch her looking at him.
With those big, beautiful eyes.
Or sometimes it was the flash of her perfect teeth as she smiled at him.
With those soft, perfect lips.
It was as if among the almost two dozen family members around the huge table, his was the attention she craved.
Damn, he hated that bitch.
And he wanted her.
Again.
Jarvis hated himself too. He hated himself for his sick desire.
**********
Jarvis wasn’t surprised when he opened his motel room door the next day and found Brenda standing there. So now it was up to him. He could tell her to go away. It was the right thing to do - the sane thing to do. Instead he grabbed his first cousin by her arm and yanked her into the room.
Brenda was two months older than him. He remembered back in the day how family used to make jokes about his mother and his aunt – two sisters walking around with identical big bellies. They said it must be something in Nana’s collard greens that made the Johnson girls fertile at the same time.
And he remembered what happened seven years ago, after the annual Thanksgiving dinner at Nana’s…the last one he’d come to until this year. They were eighteen years old then. Old enough to know better. Old enough not to give into sick desires of the flesh. But they’d been weak.
He’d been weak.
They’d had a thing for each other ever since they were old enough to know the difference between boys and girls. And on the Thanksgiving of their eighteenth year, in the back of Uncle Ernest’s Navigator, they’d committed the sin. And Jarvis had paid the price ever since.
Jarvis closed the motel door quickly, just in case someone happened to be driving by who might recognize Brenda.
He glared at her, fists clenched. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.
“You know why I’m here,” Brenda said.
She stepped into the room, hips swaying in her body hugging dress, letting him get a good look. She turned back to him, smiling. So beautiful. So fucking beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Jarvis unclenched his fists.
“Seven years,” she said. “Have you missed me Jarvis?”
In self defense he retorted, “Have you missed me?”
They shouldn’t be talking like this. It was a sin to even be thinking what they were thinking.
“This is our secret,” she said. “And it really doesn’t matter anymore, if you want to again.”
Jarvis swallowed the baseball of spit lodged in his throat. He hated that she knew his heart. But she’d known it since he was five years old. She’d known that she was his ideal…his dream.
He screamed silently for God to give him strength against this beautiful devil. Then Brenda reached back and unzipped her dress, and Jarvis knew that God was busy somewhere else on this day after Thanksgiving.
He slumped into the motel room chair and watched as Brenda peeled off her dress and came to him, stood over him. He smelled her perfume. And as she spread her legs and straddled him like a lap dancer he thought he caught the raw aroma of her femininity. In spite of his sense of right and wrong his manhood stiffened. And when her fingers found his zipper he throbbed for his cousin.
He knew this would happen if he came home. He knew she would tempt him. The devil always tempts. And no matter how often he’d lied to himself over the years and told himself once but never again, he knew that in the face of what he’d desired all his life, he had no will. It had been easier to just stay away. But this year he had to come home for Nana.
Jarvis fished the condom out of his pocket.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“Protection,” Jarvis said. “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
Brenda smiled down at him. “You don’t need to worry. That’s taken care of.”
“Brenda, I don’t trust you enough to blink my eyes if you’re in the same room.”
“You don’t trust me, but you still want to fuck me, don’t you…cousin?”
“That’s all you’re good for Brenda – fucking.”
“Was my pussy that good to you, Jarvis? Is it so good that you can’t say no even though you don’t trust me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Do you still think about me when you’re with some other woman…or when you’re alone?”
“Shut up Brenda…”
She leaned over him and caressed his face. Her lips brushed his, and her smile turned into a sneer. “Tell me Cuz,” she cooed, “Do you think about my pussy when you’re stroking your dick? Do you yearn for me when you jack off?”
“I said shut up!” Jarvis sprang to his feet, shoving her back toward the bed.
Brenda laughed at him. Even as he ripped her bra and panties off she laughed at him.
He fucked her hard, with all the pent up anger he’d felt over the past six years. He wanted to hurt her, to make her beg him to stop. He wanted to punish her as she’d punished him.
She did groan, but from pain or pleasure he couldn’t tell. And he couldn’t tell if she came, though he didn’t care. But after an hour of vicious pounding he’d exhausted himself, and he hadn’t cum either. Gasping and sweating, Jarvis pushed himself off her.
Anger. Shame. Frustration. He felt all of that. He wanted to scream.
She didn’t bother with her ruined underwear – she just slipped her dress on over her sweaty nakedness and then brushed her hair in the mirror. Jarvis sat on the bed with his dick throbbing in its unfulfilled need, watching her with lust and hatred.
Without looking away from the mirror she said, “I want a thousand dollars, and I want it before you leave town. That’s how good my pussy is to you Jarvis – a thousand dollars a nut.”
“I didn’t even cum,” he said. “I guess your worn out pussy isn’t so good after all.”
She turned and glared at him. “Then you’ll pay me for the privilege. Tomorrow is Saturday so the bank probably closes at twelve. Get my money and meet me at the old bridge tomorrow night at six.”
**********
They used to come here when they were kids, though their parents warned against it. It was just an old footbridge over the swamp, a place where’d they come to try to spot gators.
Sometimes they’d hear a splash somewhere in the water and they’d run like crazy back to the bank, gasping in terror and joy at their “close call." That was a fun game when they were kids.
Jarvis stood on the footbridge now, waiting in the darkness. The structure seemed so much smaller now that he was a grown man. The rickety rail hit him in mid-thigh. It wouldn't take much of a slip to fall over the low rail into the water.
He heard a car pull up. He couldn’t see it beyond the tall grass, but he was sure it was her BMW.
He muttered a curse. He had to drive his ancient Honda while Brenda could afford a new BMW. A BMW paid for with his hard earned money, no doubt.
He heard a car door open and close and then footsteps approaching. And then Brenda appeared from among the tall grass and stepped onto the bridge. She wasn’t smiling tonight.
“Where’s my money?” she said, stepping close to him on the footbridge like she wanted to challenge him.
He pulled the envelope out of his back pocket. Now she relaxed and smiled.
“You know Jarvis, there are two things I like about our little arrangement,” Brenda said. “One, I’m getting more from you than a court would ever have awarded. Two, the money doesn’t end after eighteen years. No Cuz, our little financial plan will go on forever.”
Jarvis stood next to the creaky railing, staring hate at his first cousin.
He’d gone to college, had a bachelor’s degree. He made a decent salary. But he lived near the poverty level because almost half his money went to Brenda.
She owned a house, but he struggled to pay the rent on his ragged one bedroom apartment. He’d heard that she had some dude living with her.
Jarvis had been in love once, so much in love. But he’d had to let that woman go because Brenda had warned him never to get married because a wife would ask too many questions about where his money went. And Brenda had threatened that if the monthly payments stopped for any reason she would tell. She would cry and wail like a poor little country girl, and instead of telling the truth about how she’d lured him into the back of Uncle Ernest’s SUV, she’d say that he’d made her go back there, and made her do terrible things...things that cousins should never do.
And now here she was telling him that it was never going to end. If Brenda had her way, he’d be paying for their sin for the rest of his life.
He heard a heavy splash in the darkness below the footbridge. A gator. It sounded like a big one.
This time neither of them ran away.
He looked at his cousin Brenda.
He smiled at her, and then he paid her what she deserved.
**********
They sat around the table at Christmas dinner, finishing up dessert. Nana hadn’t made it to Christmas. She’d gone to God in her sleep in the first week of December.
For most of the family this was a doubly sad holiday. To lose two members of the family in less than a month, and during the holidays at that, well that made for a solemn celebration.
Uncle Ernest cleared his throat and said, “We need to decide what we’re gonna do about the boy. It ain’t right to have him put away somewhere when we got so much family that could take him in.”
There was silence around the table. Then Jarvis spoke up.
“I suppose I could take him,” he said. “These days, a boy needs a man in his life to show him the right way. There are too many black boys these days that don’t have a positive male figure in their lives, to give them the right kind of guidance.”
Jarvis felt like the worst kind of lying low-life bastard as his family thanked him and hugged him and shook his hand for being willing to do the right thing by Brenda’s son. But he didn’t think it would be too much trouble. He could afford to take care of himself and the boy now.
As he walked out of Nana’s house holding the six year old boy’s hand he heard Aunt Mary whisper, “Look at them…they look so much alike they could be father and son.”
© November 2007
Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
All Rights Reserved
Jarvis only came to this year’s Thanksgiving dinner because the doctors didn’t think Nana would last another six months, and she wanted all her family to get together for the holiday on what would likely be her last one.
He hadn’t been home for the family’s traditional dinner in six years, and if he had his way he’d never come back. At least not as long as his cousin Brenda was coming too. And he knew that she made the trip from DC down to Tampa every year.
Brenda had made her late grand entrance into Nana’s living room wearing a white floor length mink that probably cost more than his beat up ten year old Honda Civic when it was brand new. And he’d bought the car used. He couldn’t afford a new car. That thought pissed him off. When Brenda pranced in with her little boy in tow Jarvis had to grit his teeth and look away. Just laying eyes on her made his blood boil.
Over dinner he’d avoided looking at her, but every so often in his peripheral vision he’d catch her looking at him.
With those big, beautiful eyes.
Or sometimes it was the flash of her perfect teeth as she smiled at him.
With those soft, perfect lips.
It was as if among the almost two dozen family members around the huge table, his was the attention she craved.
Damn, he hated that bitch.
And he wanted her.
Again.
Jarvis hated himself too. He hated himself for his sick desire.
**********
Jarvis wasn’t surprised when he opened his motel room door the next day and found Brenda standing there. So now it was up to him. He could tell her to go away. It was the right thing to do - the sane thing to do. Instead he grabbed his first cousin by her arm and yanked her into the room.
Brenda was two months older than him. He remembered back in the day how family used to make jokes about his mother and his aunt – two sisters walking around with identical big bellies. They said it must be something in Nana’s collard greens that made the Johnson girls fertile at the same time.
And he remembered what happened seven years ago, after the annual Thanksgiving dinner at Nana’s…the last one he’d come to until this year. They were eighteen years old then. Old enough to know better. Old enough not to give into sick desires of the flesh. But they’d been weak.
He’d been weak.
They’d had a thing for each other ever since they were old enough to know the difference between boys and girls. And on the Thanksgiving of their eighteenth year, in the back of Uncle Ernest’s Navigator, they’d committed the sin. And Jarvis had paid the price ever since.
Jarvis closed the motel door quickly, just in case someone happened to be driving by who might recognize Brenda.
He glared at her, fists clenched. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.
“You know why I’m here,” Brenda said.
She stepped into the room, hips swaying in her body hugging dress, letting him get a good look. She turned back to him, smiling. So beautiful. So fucking beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Jarvis unclenched his fists.
“Seven years,” she said. “Have you missed me Jarvis?”
In self defense he retorted, “Have you missed me?”
They shouldn’t be talking like this. It was a sin to even be thinking what they were thinking.
“This is our secret,” she said. “And it really doesn’t matter anymore, if you want to again.”
Jarvis swallowed the baseball of spit lodged in his throat. He hated that she knew his heart. But she’d known it since he was five years old. She’d known that she was his ideal…his dream.
He screamed silently for God to give him strength against this beautiful devil. Then Brenda reached back and unzipped her dress, and Jarvis knew that God was busy somewhere else on this day after Thanksgiving.
He slumped into the motel room chair and watched as Brenda peeled off her dress and came to him, stood over him. He smelled her perfume. And as she spread her legs and straddled him like a lap dancer he thought he caught the raw aroma of her femininity. In spite of his sense of right and wrong his manhood stiffened. And when her fingers found his zipper he throbbed for his cousin.
He knew this would happen if he came home. He knew she would tempt him. The devil always tempts. And no matter how often he’d lied to himself over the years and told himself once but never again, he knew that in the face of what he’d desired all his life, he had no will. It had been easier to just stay away. But this year he had to come home for Nana.
Jarvis fished the condom out of his pocket.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“Protection,” Jarvis said. “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
Brenda smiled down at him. “You don’t need to worry. That’s taken care of.”
“Brenda, I don’t trust you enough to blink my eyes if you’re in the same room.”
“You don’t trust me, but you still want to fuck me, don’t you…cousin?”
“That’s all you’re good for Brenda – fucking.”
“Was my pussy that good to you, Jarvis? Is it so good that you can’t say no even though you don’t trust me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Do you still think about me when you’re with some other woman…or when you’re alone?”
“Shut up Brenda…”
She leaned over him and caressed his face. Her lips brushed his, and her smile turned into a sneer. “Tell me Cuz,” she cooed, “Do you think about my pussy when you’re stroking your dick? Do you yearn for me when you jack off?”
“I said shut up!” Jarvis sprang to his feet, shoving her back toward the bed.
Brenda laughed at him. Even as he ripped her bra and panties off she laughed at him.
He fucked her hard, with all the pent up anger he’d felt over the past six years. He wanted to hurt her, to make her beg him to stop. He wanted to punish her as she’d punished him.
She did groan, but from pain or pleasure he couldn’t tell. And he couldn’t tell if she came, though he didn’t care. But after an hour of vicious pounding he’d exhausted himself, and he hadn’t cum either. Gasping and sweating, Jarvis pushed himself off her.
Anger. Shame. Frustration. He felt all of that. He wanted to scream.
She didn’t bother with her ruined underwear – she just slipped her dress on over her sweaty nakedness and then brushed her hair in the mirror. Jarvis sat on the bed with his dick throbbing in its unfulfilled need, watching her with lust and hatred.
Without looking away from the mirror she said, “I want a thousand dollars, and I want it before you leave town. That’s how good my pussy is to you Jarvis – a thousand dollars a nut.”
“I didn’t even cum,” he said. “I guess your worn out pussy isn’t so good after all.”
She turned and glared at him. “Then you’ll pay me for the privilege. Tomorrow is Saturday so the bank probably closes at twelve. Get my money and meet me at the old bridge tomorrow night at six.”
**********
They used to come here when they were kids, though their parents warned against it. It was just an old footbridge over the swamp, a place where’d they come to try to spot gators.
Sometimes they’d hear a splash somewhere in the water and they’d run like crazy back to the bank, gasping in terror and joy at their “close call." That was a fun game when they were kids.
Jarvis stood on the footbridge now, waiting in the darkness. The structure seemed so much smaller now that he was a grown man. The rickety rail hit him in mid-thigh. It wouldn't take much of a slip to fall over the low rail into the water.
He heard a car pull up. He couldn’t see it beyond the tall grass, but he was sure it was her BMW.
He muttered a curse. He had to drive his ancient Honda while Brenda could afford a new BMW. A BMW paid for with his hard earned money, no doubt.
He heard a car door open and close and then footsteps approaching. And then Brenda appeared from among the tall grass and stepped onto the bridge. She wasn’t smiling tonight.
“Where’s my money?” she said, stepping close to him on the footbridge like she wanted to challenge him.
He pulled the envelope out of his back pocket. Now she relaxed and smiled.
“You know Jarvis, there are two things I like about our little arrangement,” Brenda said. “One, I’m getting more from you than a court would ever have awarded. Two, the money doesn’t end after eighteen years. No Cuz, our little financial plan will go on forever.”
Jarvis stood next to the creaky railing, staring hate at his first cousin.
He’d gone to college, had a bachelor’s degree. He made a decent salary. But he lived near the poverty level because almost half his money went to Brenda.
She owned a house, but he struggled to pay the rent on his ragged one bedroom apartment. He’d heard that she had some dude living with her.
Jarvis had been in love once, so much in love. But he’d had to let that woman go because Brenda had warned him never to get married because a wife would ask too many questions about where his money went. And Brenda had threatened that if the monthly payments stopped for any reason she would tell. She would cry and wail like a poor little country girl, and instead of telling the truth about how she’d lured him into the back of Uncle Ernest’s SUV, she’d say that he’d made her go back there, and made her do terrible things...things that cousins should never do.
And now here she was telling him that it was never going to end. If Brenda had her way, he’d be paying for their sin for the rest of his life.
He heard a heavy splash in the darkness below the footbridge. A gator. It sounded like a big one.
This time neither of them ran away.
He looked at his cousin Brenda.
He smiled at her, and then he paid her what she deserved.
**********
They sat around the table at Christmas dinner, finishing up dessert. Nana hadn’t made it to Christmas. She’d gone to God in her sleep in the first week of December.
For most of the family this was a doubly sad holiday. To lose two members of the family in less than a month, and during the holidays at that, well that made for a solemn celebration.
Uncle Ernest cleared his throat and said, “We need to decide what we’re gonna do about the boy. It ain’t right to have him put away somewhere when we got so much family that could take him in.”
There was silence around the table. Then Jarvis spoke up.
“I suppose I could take him,” he said. “These days, a boy needs a man in his life to show him the right way. There are too many black boys these days that don’t have a positive male figure in their lives, to give them the right kind of guidance.”
Jarvis felt like the worst kind of lying low-life bastard as his family thanked him and hugged him and shook his hand for being willing to do the right thing by Brenda’s son. But he didn’t think it would be too much trouble. He could afford to take care of himself and the boy now.
As he walked out of Nana’s house holding the six year old boy’s hand he heard Aunt Mary whisper, “Look at them…they look so much alike they could be father and son.”
© November 2007
Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
All Rights Reserved
Tags: african, american, erotica, love, romance, sex, thanksgiving
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by Savannah J on -
Christopher, you've out done yourself yet again. Please post this on Relentless TV under the Floetry site. With this write you will blow everyone off the stage. Tell them Savannah sent you with this one (smile)
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Permalink Reply by Christopher Bynum on -
Hi Savannah.
Thanks! I'll post it on Relentless TV and be sure to tell them that you sent me. :)
clb
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Permalink Reply by Dana on
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Nice story. What happened to Brenda? Did she pass away or she did skip town and left the boy to his lonesome? Overall, great story. Nasty as hell but good story. Very twisted plot, etc. Keep writing. -Dana
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Permalink Reply by Viola P. Blue on -
Love, love, love this. I particularly liked the subtle hints and clues as to the boy's parentage.
But I don't hate Brenda...oh no I don't.
Great story.
Vi
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Permalink Reply by Christopher Bynum on
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Thanks Viola...Glad you enjoyed.
Regards,
Chris
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Permalink Reply by Deidre Logan on
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Christopher, this is compelling. I always loved a well-told story and you have certainly done that here. I've spent so much of my life reading for information that I rarely read just for the pleasure. This piece makes me want to do that.
Thank you so much for your valuable contribution. I will be anxiously looking for more.
-
Permalink Reply by Christopher Bynum on
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Thank you Deidre, for your kind words.
Chris
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