Uncle and I
The night air was thick with smoke, beer, and tension. Country metal rattled the walls while Ed lounged beside me on the couch, relaxed in a way only a confident older man could be. Every laugh, every sip, every glance from him carried a weight that pulled at me harder the more we drank.
Outside, the moon painted silver across the yard while I stood there smoking, trying to steady the heat building inside me. Then I heard the sound of Ed unzipping beside me. My eyes drifted before I could stop them. At first, the darkness hid him, but the moonlight caught just enough — the outline of his body, the roughness of his jaw, the slow drag from his cigarette. He looked powerful, completely at ease in his own skin, like the night itself belonged to him.
There was something intoxicating about the way he stood there: low voice, heavy stare, smoke curling from his lips while he relieved himself beneath the stars without a hint of shame. His confidence wrapped around me tighter than the alcohol ever could. When he tilted his head toward me with that smug grin, showing me how he spit perfectly into the ditch, I couldn’t look away. I tried copying him, but failed, and his amused smile only made my pulse race harder.
The thought slipped out before I could stop it, reckless and hungry. Ed’s eyes darkened as he grabbed at himself confidently, towering over me with a teasing challenge in his voice. The tension between us snapped tight enough to break. Every movement after that felt rough, commanding, intoxicating — his hands controlling me effortlessly while cigarette smoke mixed with hot breaths in the cold night air.
Then the sudden nudge of his dog against my leg shattered the fantasy like glass. Reality rushed back all at once, leaving my heart hammering while Ed calmly zipped himself up and headed back inside as though nothing had happened.