Mike & Karen Ch. 01

Disclaimer: All characters are 18 years of age or older while actively engaging in sexual activity. This story is a prequel/sequel (sprequel?) to my other work, Alex & Alexa. Reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted with extreme prejudice. Enjoy!

Just a note -- there is an incest romance happening between an important secondary couple in this story. You've been warned.

Chapter I -- And Then There Was You

A pretty and stately Victorian house in Kleinburg, Ontario: the present ...

With a contented sigh, Alexa stretched out in her sun chair, letting the rays kiss her skin, most of which was not covered by her spare blue bikini. She hadn't been back more than a few days, but now that everything had been worked out, she felt right at home again. Life was ... bliss.

She felt her older sister's hand on hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She turned her head to see Karen smiling lovingly at her, the contentment and relief obvious there, too. Like Alexa, Karen was sprawled out in a lawn chair, also wearing a rather skimpy yellow bikini that showed off her attractive figure. They had been parted too suddenly and too quickly. Never again.

"It's good to have you back, Alli," Karen said gently, meaning it with all her heart. "Don't ever give me another scare like that, my love."

"I'll try not to," Alexa replied, unable to imagine any other life now. Karen had said this exact same thing to her a hundred times already, but she was happy to assure her sister. "Hopefully my reaction wasn't that unreasonable."

"No, not at all," admitted the older sister. "The situation was more than a little awkward, to say the least. We'll chalk it up to family growing pains, all right? Our little nuclear family has had precious few of those, at least since dad started to have issues."

"Hard to imagine, given how unique Alex is," giggled the gorgeous blonde girl, looking past her sister's sun chair to the pool, where the man she was in love with was swimming, while his titan father sat on the edge and looked on, the two of them discussing Heaven knows what. "Although Mike seems to have spoken for all the growing, there might not be much left for anyone else."

"You have no idea," Karen said dryly. "Why do you think the best ones are so unique?"

"So that the girls who're lucky enough to marry them can proudly say they've got what no one else can ever have," Alexa mused. "Admit it, you wouldn't have it any other way."

"Guilty," Karen replied cheerfully, her hand still clasping her sister's as if she were afraid to let go. "Besides, another Gordon-Blackwell woman around is so very welcome to counter all that DeBourne male crazy."

"Pretty sure they'd say the opposite, but I like your theory better," Alexa sighed. "Are you certain the university will okay with all this? Alex and I, I mean."

"It might take some getting used to," Karen answered. "But so long as you two keep it on the down low, so that the faculty and board don't have to answer any awkward questions in the immediate future, Michael and I can absolutely convince them to look the other way."

"Very nice of them."

"They're big fans of you and Alex," Karen pointed out. "You were an invaluable help to the Linguistics department over the summer, of course. And even If you weren't aunt and nephew, now that they know, most of them think you're the most perfect couple ever, as much as Michael and I."

"And are you really okay with it?" Alexa asked, her voice tinged with concern. The whole crisis was still fresh in her mind.

"Yes, I genuinely am," the bronze-haired goddess said, smiling warmly. It'll take some time to adjust to it, but it's perfectly obvious how desperately in love you both are. I can't stand in the way of that and, more to the point, I don't want to. Just try to keep the wild sex noises down, okay?"

"I'll try, but no promises," Alexa giggled. "He knows how to make me yodel."

"He comes by that honestly," Karen muttered, looking at her oversized husband. "That Brobdnignagian behemoth can have me speaking in tongues like an entire Pentecostal congregation in no time."

"Oh, like you're complaining," laughed the blonde. "And Alex says you're considering holding our wedding in Paris?"

Karen smiled. "You can't get married here, at least not yet. Avunculate marriage is still illegal. There are some American states that allow it, but that just feels hillbilly to me. The two of you getting married in Paris certainly appeals. I love Europe, so my son marrying my baby sister is as good an excuse as any to head over."

"Guess you and Mike had it easy from that point of view," Alexa mused. "Were there any complications?"

"Oh, a number of them, initially, mostly on the part of the Blackwell family."

Alexa rolled her eyes. "From dad's family. Gee, why am I not the least bit surprised, based on everything mom ever told me?"

Karen nodded. "Patrician blue-bloods through and through, horrified that their one of their own was crazy about some bohemian giant of no name or lineage. They thought he would be a bad influence on me."

Alexa smiled wryly. "I know the story, of course, but hearing it from your point of view would complete something for me I've wondered about my whole life. Care to give me some deets?"

"Fair enough," Karen said, turning on her side to face her sister, her ample cleavage almost spilling out of her tiny bikini. For a woman in her late forties, Karen was still gorgeous. Her bobbed bronze hair and golden-amber eyes glinted in the sun. "And it will be interesting for us to hear about what mom told you. We can get the whole picture once and for all."

Karen called over her husband and her son, who exited the pool and approached. Even now, Alexa smiled to herself and shook her head -- she'd never get used to exactly how big these two men were, especially her brother-in-law, who was a full head taller than his son and maintained a sculpted bodybuilder's physique, impressive at any age, much less for a man who was about to be fifty.

"Alli expressed some interest in how we met," Karen said, looking at her husband. "I thought we'd regale her with the full and sordid details."

Mike nodded. "Only fair, given how much we've found out about the two of them recently," he replied, making Alex look at his feet and Alexa blush slightly. "I'll get some beers and wine. How about we pick this up in the living room?"

Karen nodded and stood, followed by her younger sister. "Let's put on some robes and meet the boys, shall we?"

The quartet reconvened in the plush and comfortable living room, the boys having dried off, and the women wearing slinky silk robes, as close as they'd come to a concession to modesty for the time being. Mike sat on the long chesterfield while Karen lay on it, her feet in her lap. She sipped at her glass of old-vine zinfandel while he took a long pull on his stout. He'd brought extra bottles, knowing this conversation would not end soon.

For her part, Alexa sat on the loveseat, holding her own glass of wine. It still gave her a thrill to know that her family owned vineyards in Ontario and California. Her mother had told her this countless times, but now she was actually drinking those vintages, something she'd only ever dreamed of.

Alex sat on the other end of the loveseat rather conspicuously. His mother shot him a wry look.

"Why are you all the way over there, Casanova?" she asked. "We know your little secret, remember? Have you suddenly decided you don't love my baby sister anymore?"

"Oh, crap, sorry," Alex said, realizing his mistake and moving closer to his aunt, who giggled and turned to put her feet across him. "Force of habit, y'know."

"Only too well, you little thespian, you," Karen said dryly. "I cannot believe that you, of all people, had me fooled so completely. Or your father."

"Aren't you supposed to be giving Alexa and I some big reveal about how this crazy family of ours came to be?" Alex asked, hoping to take the spotlight off himself.

"Fair enough," Karen mused. "So, dear, where shall we begin?"

Mike considered. "A little background about each of us before we met, I surmise. Why don't you start?"

Karen nodded. "Well, as I've told you, Alex, and as mom no doubt told Alli, a cadet branch of the Gordon clan hailed from the Maritimes, spread through la belle province and into the interior, even the west coast. Your ancestor, George Gordon, founded the 92^nd Gordon Highlanders, even fought with Wellington at Waterloo. Offered him beans to eat as they got charged by Napoleon's Old Guard, is the rumour."

"Oh, cool!" Alex said, grinning as he caressed Alexa's feet.

"With a few exceptions, the families were rather successful and of patrician stock, a trait we kept alive for generations after our arrival in the New World, post-Napoleon, mostly with construction and distilling spirits. Last generation, Miranda Gordon married the business tycoon Jonathan Blackwell of Toronto, a wealthy English family with business interests in Europe and Asia as far back as the mid-sixteenth century."

Alexa nodded. "Mom, the Gordon and dad, the Blackwell."

Karen then smiled at her husband her husband. "By contrast, the DeBourne family was a little tribe of oversized Normans located in the backwoods of northern Ontario. While by no means inbred hillbillies, they were of no particular note, either."

"Ouch," Alexa said, making a wry face.

Mike shrugged. "It's true. My ancestors have probably been here since the heyday of the Hudson's Bay Company in the 1700s, but that's mostly just educated guesses and thin records. We've lived in northern Ontario forever. My dad was from Moose Factory."

Alexa snickered. "Still can't believe that's a real place, even in northern Canada."

"Don't knock it," Alex pointed out, massaging her foot. "Grandma's from a place in Alberta called Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo-Jump, y'know."

"I was the only person we know of to go to university," Mike continued. "After an initial year at a local college, I was awarded a full scholarship and headed south toward civilization to find my fame and fortune."

"Yes, you were attending some horrid little Cambrian-era thing, if memory serves," Karen teased.

Mike gave her a look: "It was Cambrian College, and you know it. When they realized they didn't have the facilities or courses I yearned for, they transferred me to the University of Toronto with full equivalency. Which had always been my plan to begin with So, it was in our second year that I met Karen. She'd already been there at the university for a year when I showed up."

"So, this was what, the mid-eighties?" Alexa queried.

"1986, in fact," Karen answered. "We both had such good grades that we skipped Grade 13 and headed straight through OAC to university on scholarships. Even if I hadn't graduated summa cum laude, my family's endowments to the university would have assured me a place. Battle Mammoth here, on the other hand, had to rely on intellect and charm alone. His family, as I mentioned earlier, was of no financial means or influcence."

"That's so hard to picture," Alexa mused, looking at her brother-in-law.

"They're the nicest people, make no mistake, and I love them as much as I love our Gordon-Blackwell family. More, probably," Karen mentioned. "I'm happy to be a DeBourne, although you never would have known it back in the day ..."

***

Toronto: September 1986 ...

The pub was raucous, as was usually the case just about every night. Tuesdays were, however, especially loud and cacophonic, because the university students who frequented the establishment came in scores to participate in karaoke. The throngs clapped and laughed while people butchered classic songs and recent favourites.

Karen sat at one of the tables, conscious to not put her arms on the sticky surface. She was sitting with three friends, girls she had bonded with the previous semester and who had become her family-away-from-family. They all lived on-campus now, and were virtually inseparable. Her friends were drinking shots, although Karen had resolutely stuck to a craft beer. She'd considered asking for wine, but was afraid it might show up in a can and quickly nixed the idea.

"How come you never get up and sing, Karen?" Lisa asked, sitting next to her. "We all know you've got an amazing voice."

"If it's one-tenth as amazing as her tits, then she sounds like Jessye freakin' Norman!" laughed Janet, leaning in and subtly giving one of Karen's pronounced breasts a squeeze. The bronze-haired girl sighed and ignored the molestation. This was her little social rebellion against her blue-blood upbringing, which was never a bad thing.

"I've told you all before," she said simply, pausing in taking a swig of her beer. "If and when I feel the urge to humiliate myself, I'll get up there and sing. You all know me, I do things as I please."

"Or who you please," quipped Mona, a black girl, pointing with her empty shot glass. "Your family'd die if they saw you out here like this, hobnobbing with us plebs."

"Not a disagreeable thought," Karen admitted, smiling. But then she winced as the girl up on stage shrilled out a note so off-key and sharp that Karen was sure her pint glass would shatter. She shook her head to clear away the noise and sighed while her friends laughed. "Although this is a steep price to pay, most assuredly."

"I'd say don't get your panties in a bunch, but I doubt you're wearing any!" giggled Lisa, winking at her. They were roommates and casual girlfriends and lovers, a fact that would cause Karen's entire family, except for her mother, to have a stroke. Her mother was a complete aberration among the two families, almost a hippie, who had let Karen nurture her fierce independence as much as she could, within the strict bounds of her exceptional upbringing. The rest of the family certainly had their influence on her rearing, but she was her own person, without question. And she had her mother to thank for that.

Miranda Gordon, her mother, belonged to the prominent Gordon family, which had been distilling whiskey and other spirits in Canada for more than a hundred years, along with helping build the transcontinental railroad. She had been married to Jonathon Blackwell, eldest son of the prominent Blackwell family. Recently they had branched out into modern fields of industry. Rigid patricians though they might have been, they certainly had an acute grasp of the effect computer technology would have in the coming generations. Blackwell Industries, and Jonathan Blackwell as CEO and chairman of the corporate empire, was making obscene amounts of money developing mainframes and integrated motherboards.

The nuptial arrangements had been quite specific, allowing both families to come out ahead. The first child would carry the surname Gordon; any who followed would all be Blackwells, essentially another cadet branch of the already burgeoning family.

Miranda Gordon may have acquiesced to the arranged marriage, but both families knew that she was not going to be controlled. The youngest of four children, she had always been rebellious and a free spirit. Her time in university in Europe in the Sixties had only intensified this trait in her. Remarkably intelligent, she could speak, read and write several languages and had an unusually profound grasp of philosophy and international relations, not to mention being an accomplished visual artist in several mediums. She clearly had no intention of becoming a railroad or IT magnate, and while she enjoyed drinking the spirits that her family's distilleries made, there was no future for her there, either. But she fell in love with Jonathan Blackwell, and he with her. The marriage was a surprisingly happy one.

Miranda, named for the character in The Tempest, was a hippie and activist through and through. It was only her marriage to Jonathon Blackwell and the announcement of her pregnancy that kept her from joining the volatile political movements that were rocking the western world at the time. Karen was born and Miranda's devotion to her role of mother was total. While her daughter would prove a remarkable intellectual with a haughty patrician air, she was always fiercely independent like her mother. Few people changed Karen's mind with advice; none ever did by force.

Karen would prove adept in anything she tried her hand at, although her passions seemed to be mathematics and sciences, especially Physics, and it was into this last field that she took a full scholarship, having graduated from one of the best academies for young women in the country a full year early. Her appetite for knowledge was voracious, something her roommate Lisa would come to understand was matched only by her sex drive.

"I still can't believe I was lucky enough to have you take me in as a roomie," Lisa now mused, tracing her fingernail over Karen's hand as they sat at the tiny pub table. "I mean, shouldn't you have your own house or dorm or something? Not like your family can't afford it."

Karen shrugged. "I have spent my whole life cloistered away from the public; I wanted something different. My family offered to rent a house just off-campus for me, but I told them that wasn't happening unless I got to fill it with my friends, who would live there rent-free. They agreed to do that if I aced all my courses this year."

"But you are acing all your courses," Mona pointed out. "We could all be in a house right now. What's the hold-up?"

"They probably don't believe I have any friends," Karen replied, taking a drink from her glass while her companions burst out laughing. The little bar was getting more crowded, which, in a sense, offered them more privacy as they sat in their little corner, practically a world unto itself. Which suited Karen just fine.

"You said you had all sorts of friends back in school," Janet remarked, sipping at her next drink. "I mean, okay, more sex partners than friends, but still, doesn't that count?"

"I considered the girls at school more to be associates than friends," replied the bronze-haired beauty. "Most of them I found painfully dull and pedestrian, despite their families' money."

"Ouch," Janet laughed. "Nice to know that money can't buy character and that we're not dull because our families aren't rich."

"I couldn't agree more," Karen said, smiling at the brown-haired girl. "You three are my best friends on this entire planet full of awkward meat-bags, and I get down on my knees and thank the Lord for you every morning. You're all very special to me and very special as people."

She looked at Mona. "You'll be trying your damndest to break into the world of animation. We've all seen your work; you're amazing, and Sheridan College keeps trying to steal you away. You're like Joy Batchelor and Lotte Reiniger all rolled into one cute-as-a-button package."

"Thanks," the black girl said, blushing. "But why the Hell do you even know who those women are? I barely know who they are, and I've taken the courses!"

"You're my friend, it's my privilege to know things about you," Karen replied. "And what sort of dolt would I be if I hadn't seen Animal Farm at least once?"

She turned to look at Janet. "You're going to be a great lawyer one day. I've already told my father's family to keep an eye on you."

She smiled warmly at her roommate and clasped her hand. "And where would I be without Freckles? You don't just keep me warm at night, you know. Sociology and women's rights are so important, now as much as ever."

The slender redhead blushed sheepishly. Karen was the first girl she'd been in a relationship with and it was only upon becoming her lover that she accepted she was a lesbian. She could never stop thanking this remarkable young woman for all she'd allowed her to realize about herself.