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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: D.B. Story

Aunt Lonnie © June 2010 D.B. Story

eXcessica publishing

A Smashwords Edition

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Aunt Lonnie

By D.B. Story

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A special thanks to Mulligan, VW, Gorgo, and Deryk Bramwell for their excellent and much appreciated proofreading.

When I was a few weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday I spent a summer with Uncle Burton that changed my life.

Uncle Burton was the Rich Uncle of our family. We all seemed to have enough money to remain comfortable, but somehow he seemed to have more than the whole rest of the family put together—a lot more! Starting a couple of years ago that had finally started to matter to me, since money buys fast cars, dates with girls, and other things of a young man's fancy.

Uncle B. lived in this huge old house that my cousins and I used to think was an ancient castle a thousand years old. It is actually a multistory mansion built closer to a hundred years ago, parked on a remote estate. When we were younger we used to explore it from basement to attic looking for secret passages, ghosts, and treasure. I can't say that we ever found any. At least I didn't, until this summer.

I had to spend this summer with Uncle B. because I was taking extra classes to qualify for the only college that's acceptable to my family—a college so exclusive that money and family connections alone couldn't get me in.

Mom and Dad were touring Europe for the summer. I think they were happy that I wasn't going with them, which was fine with me. At my age Europe didn't sound like that much fun anyway. So Uncle Burton was taking care of me, which was also fine with me. His house was wonderful, even if it didn't seem quite so ancient and endless anymore. There's something to be said for central heating and air conditioning, and the other comforts of modern life. And his staff of a cook, butler, and groundskeeper even picks up my dirty clothes every day without complaining to me all the time about it. The only thing missing was Aunt Lonnie.

* * * *

Aunt Lonnie had been with Uncle B. from when I was ten years old until about the time I turned sixteen. I first remember meeting her at my tenth birthday party.

She was old—real old. I remember my parents saying one time when they thought no one was listening that Aunt Lonnie appeared to be forty-two, which was simply too young for my uncle. And I remember how she treated me that time, since it was always the same afterwards.

Each time I'd meet Aunt Lonnie, she would come over to me as soon as she saw me, tussle my hair, and make all these stupid comments about how big I'd grown and what a man I'd be someday. This would go on for about five minutes, after which she went back to Uncle B. and pretty much left me alone. That was fine by me because I hated all the fuss.

Although I really wasn't aware of it at the time, I know now that the rest of the adults remained pretty aloof from Aunt Lonnie. Each time, after Uncle B. would leave, they'd make remarks like, "How could he do something like that?" and, "I'm surprised he still hauls her around," and, "Why the hell doesn't he just go out and buy himself a sports car and be done with it?" But nobody would say anything directly to Uncle Burton. I guess that's because he had so much money he could do whatever he wished. I wanted to be just like him.