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Chapter 5 is here! Declan's finally going home, except he runs into some trouble on the way. And when he finally gets there? Let's just say an angel is waiting for him…
There may be typos or other mistakes in this story, as it has not been fully edited yet. These will be fixed in future updates. Please enjoy it for what it is! ❤
(Updates are planned for every Sunday afternoon/evening)
One Night Sin – Maddy & Declan's Story
They say anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and that's basically exactly what happened to me on my way home. I don't know if this is God punishing me for my past transgressions, or God testing me to see if I really have change. Or, you know, it could just be a string of bad luck. Not everything has to be related to God, no matter what some people try to tell you. I really don't think God has the time or the inclination to screw around with the small stuff like that.
Anyways, here goes;
I nearly missed my flight back home. My roommate convinced me to try using Uber instead of just calling for a taxi ahead of time. A great plan, especially since I was kind of on a time crunch. So I download the app, set everything up, make sure it's all working, put in my destination, and…
Someone accepts my ride request within a minute. This seems great at the time, but, no, it's not. In case you don't know, because I had no clue before this, you can basically see your driver riding around wherever you are, so you can tell when he's close and is going to pick you up soon. Honestly, this is kind of great, and in a lot of circumstances I bet it's wonderful. Just not this time. I want to make it clear that I'm not blaming Uber for this at all, and again I think I had some really bad luck, but…
My driver goes away from me first. I have no idea where he's going. Turning around maybe? My roommate shrugs and says it happens sometimes. Maybe the app isn't synced completely. Don't even worry about it.
Except then he finally starts coming towards me, except his route keeps changing. He goes around in circles on my screen, never really coming anywhere near me, or at least not near enough that I could wave him down or something. How does he even know who I am? That's my question.
“They can call you,” Will says. “I'm sure he'll be here soon. I've got to go, though. See you after summer break, man.”
Will leaves, and I'm stuck standing on our apartment building steps just waiting for this Uber dude to show up. The app initially tells me it's going to be a five minute wait, which turns into a twenty minute wait. Something happens after that, and the ride gets canceled or however that works, at which point I'm about to just give up and call a cab. I figure it can't happen twice in a row though, right?
I call for another Uber driver, and this time one is literally right outside my apartment. He sees me basically as soon as he accepts my request. I hurry down the steps and to the street, carrying my luggage with me. It's not a lot, but it's enough, and the driver pops the trunk so I can toss my couple of bags back there. I lift one up to throw it in, and the bag just completely fails at everything a bag is meant to do.
The clothes I packed go flying everywhere. Mostly at my feet, but there's a slight wind which sends a couple of my lighter shirts into the street. A car driving by ends up lifting one shirt up, getting it stuck on the grill, and runs the other shirt over. So, here I am, trying to shove my clothes back into my bag, deliberating over whether I want to grab the shirt with a tire mark on it or just leave it.
I don't leave it, because that seems like littering. There's nothing I can do about the other shirt, the one lost with the car, but I guess I can pack this one, save the environment a little, and wash it later. If all else fails I can donate it to a homeless shelter to use as a rag or something. Or maybe that's the new fashion trend, wearing shirts with tire tracks on them, and someone will love it.
I finally get into the car, and the driver makes small talk while bringing me to the airport. That's all good. Nothing too bad goes wrong there, except now we're thirty minutes later than I wanted, and I've only got thirty minutes to get through security and to my flight. I head to the airline desk as fast as I can, get my ticket, check my two bags, and bring my one carry-on bag to the TSA line.
The line is mostly empty, which seems like a great thing. I empty my pockets, take off my shoes, get everything lined up in bins, and proceed to go through the scanner. That's the plan, at least. I forget my belt, though. I struggle with it, whip it off, nearly whack a poor man in the face with it as I hurry to shove my belt into a new bin, and then I go through the scanner again.
I guess my panicked demeanor strikes a chord with the man on the other side, because he wants to inspect me personally now. Yes, I'm getting a pat down. This is exactly what I needed.
I don't have much to say there, except I really question why it takes five minutes for the TSA security guard to investigate my left thigh. That's literally all he does. He says this, too. A random check requires him to check my… left thigh. Which he does, and very thoroughly. Five minutes worth of thorough, in fact. Once that's settled, I scramble to put my shoes and belt back on and to stuff everything back into my pockets.
I make a mad dash to my gate, which thankfully isn't too far, and then I get on the plane.
The fun part is that I didn't even need to run. The flight's delayed for thirty minutes. The best part of all is that they end up changing the gate as soon as I get there. Everything waiting to board starts surging past me to the new gate while I'm still trying to make it to the old one. Once I get there, it's basically empty, because everyone's left. I curse, thinking I've missed my flight. Also, I'm sorry for cursing, God.
I don't know for sure, but I think if Jesus ever needed to take a plane somewhere and he had to deal with the delays and frustrations of air travel he might feel a need to curse sometimes, too. He never had to, which I think he's probably grateful for. Jesus had other issues, though. I should probably take a moment to relax and consider the fact that an airline delay isn't the worst thing in the world.
I find out it's a delay once one of the boarding agents sees me standing there, aimless. “Were you boarding this flight?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Or I was supposed to, but…”
“Oh, don't worry,” she says with a smile. “You've still got time. The gate's been changed, though. It's in Terminal E now.”
Terminal E is on the opposite side of the airport, but I have a good thirty minutes to get there, so that's not too much of a problem.
I'd like to take a moment and say that I wish this was everything that went wrong. Technically it's everything that went wrong on that day, but not everything that went wrong on my trip. With the delay, a late arrival, and then waiting at baggage claim for about half an hour, it is exactly two minutes past midnight when I realize my bags aren't coming. I'm the only person standing around the drop off waiting, and the thing stopped spinning awhile ago.
I go to the help desk by the baggage claim area. A kind, older woman is sitting behind the desk. She gives me a curious look as I approach, but she smiles once she realizes I need some assistance.
“Hello,” I say. “I, uh… my bags seem to have been misplaced.”
“Can I see your ticket?” she asks me.
I hand it to her. She types some things into her computer. I don't want to denounce the elderly or anything, but she's incredibly slow at typing. I wait patiently, practicing empathy and good will. I make a mental note of the fact that Jesus never had to deal with slow typists, either. Again, Jesus had a lot of other issues that were probably far worse, but… no, he never had to deal with airline delays or a slow typist.
“Your bags made it on the plane,” the woman says with a nod. Of that much she's sure.
“I hope they didn't fall off the plane midflight,” I say with a laugh.
She gives me a concerned look. No way? That didn't actually happen, did it? Please don't do this to me, God. I really shouldn't be bothering God about this, but seriously how often do planes just fall out of airplanes when they're in the middle of the air? If that's not a random act of God, I don't know what is. I'm definitely being tested right now.
“No, that's a foolish thought,” she says, shaking her head and smiling at me. “They made it on the plane, but they went to the wrong one. Since you checked in at the other airport later than everyone else, they didn't have time to reroute your bags to the new plane. It happens sometimes.”
“Oh,” I say. To be honest, I do think this is better than my bags falling out of the plane midflight. “So where are they now?”
“Still at the other airport,” she says. “We can get them here, though. Not tonight, but we'll have them here by tomorrow. You can come back to pick them up, or if you're staying in the area I can have a courier deliver them to you.”
Courier. Let's go with that one. I give her my home address, since I'll be staying there for the summer. I have clothes back home, so it's fine. This is a minor setback. Nothing to worry about, Declan. I tell myself this, but there's this nagging thought at the back of my head that I can't quite get rid of.
I don't realize what it is until I get home, though. I don't bother with Uber this time. I'm too tired and there's a line of taxis waiting at my beck and call right outside the baggage claim. I mean, yeah, it's a little bit of a walk, but at this point I don't even care. In about twenty minutes I'll be home, with my mom and stepdad and Maddy, and I can crash in my bed. Everyone will be asleep, and soon so will I.
Except, no. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.
I left my keys in my checked bags. Yes, the ones stuck at the other airport. I don't know why this seemed like a good idea at the time, but it did. So, I'm home, but I can't get into my house. I could call someone inside and get them to open the door for me, but at this point it's one in the morning and I have a serious feeling this is some sort of test from God, so I'm going to deal with it.
It's honestly not that bad. It would be bad, but my stepdad's house has a sun porch in the back and the door is usually unlocked. We keep the door into the actual house locked at all times, but you can come and go from the sun porch without a key. My mom does a lot of work in the garden out back and she likes to spend the day relaxing on the sun porch or in the backyard when she can. In and out, over and over, so locking the door is just a hassle.
I've slept out there before, too. In the summer when it's really hot, sometimes it's nice to sleep on the sun porch in one of the lounge chairs or the wicker sofa. It's a pretty big porch with tons of open glass windows on three sides, and the wall to the house on the other, so it's scenic, too. With a view of the garden, our picket fence, and the forest beyond that, it's really not the worst place to take a nap, either.
I sneak around to the back of the house to the sun porch door. Honestly, I half expect it to be locked. It would make some kind of sense, what with all rest of the bad luck I've been having today. Technically some of it was yesterday, but I haven't gone to sleep yet so it's all kind of blending into one another.
The door isn't locked, though. It's just a simple glass door. I open it, step inside, and start to toss my bag onto the nearest wicker sofa. There's someone sleeping in it already, though.
It's Maddy. She lays there, curled up on her side, breathing softly. I nearly gasp at the sight of her. Not because it's a surprise, but because the faint light of the crescent moon hiding high above shines through the glass wall and angles perfectly, framing Maddy in a beautiful, ethereal glow. I just stand there, staring at her while she sleeps.
Her hair shimmers in the moonlight, a little of which lays peacefully across her face. She wrinkles her nose as a strand tickles her slightly, but then she falls back into restful slumber.
I could probably keep staring at her all night, but I'm not sure how God would feel about that. Sorry, God. I'm just basking in the presence of an angel here. Don't even worry about it.
Also, if Maddy's out here, then maybe I can–
I tiptoe over to the door into the house and test the knob to see if Maddy left it unlocked. No such luck. I'm sure she has the key on her, but I'd feel bad waking her up right now, especially with how peaceful she looks. It's not a big deal, anyways. She's sleeping on one of the wicker sofas, but there's another one right across from her that I can sleep on. Considering that's what I was going to do in the first place, I might as well stick to the plan.
I sit down in my new sleeping spot and take off my shoes. Each of the sofas has a light knitted blanket draped across the back, which I fully plan on using. Maddy's sleeping naked as it were, though. Uh… yeah… I didn't mean to think that.
I should clarify and say she's not actually naked. I meant that she's without a blanket. Except as soon as I connect these two things in my mind, meaning as soon as I correlate not having a blanket with being naked, I can't stop picturing Maddy naked. Yes, just sleeping on the sofa on our sun porch, completely without clothes, her soft and supple body glowing in the light of the moon like some sort of Shakespearean nymph.
I gaze at her with a desire I thought I'd finally been able to get rid of. I don't know why I thought I'd gotten rid of it, because I thought of her yesterday. Let's just pretend, alright? It's not like I enjoy having carnal thoughts about my stepsister.
I mean, yes, technically I do enjoy them, but I don't necessarily want to enjoy them. It just kind of happens. Stay with me on this one.
Maddy's eyelashes flutter a little in her sleep. I have a sudden and immediate urge to stand up, tiptoe over to her, kneel at her side, and kiss her. Maybe just kiss her eyelashes, or to kiss her on the cheek, or…
I want our lips to touch, gentle at first, but then when she slowly realizes what's happening and wakes from whatever pleasant dream she was just having, she gives in to my kiss with one of her own. More and more, until our tongues are dancing eagerly in the moonlight, and she invites me onto the wicker sofa with her, where we both end up naked on the sun porch in the cool, summer night. Our bodies becoming one, my cock thrusting past her virginal folds until I'm deep inside her and she's clawing at my back, pulling me further into her, begging me to take her.
“Declan,” she says, a murmur, urging me on.
She actually does say that, too. It's not just my perverse fantasy right now. When she says my name, I snap back to reality, worrying that I woke her up. I didn't, though. She's just talking in her sleep.
“Don't leave,” she mumbles. “I don't like when you leave.”
I'm not sure what she's dreaming about, but I'm also not sure it's any of my business. I'm the one who harbors illicit intent towards my stepsister, and I'm basically one-hundred percent certain she doesn't share my sin. Even if she did, it's not like it matters. It's not something we can ever act upon, so…
I get up and tiptoe over to Maddy. She's still sleeping, and her eyelashes flutter a little when I get to her side. I reach over her and lift up the knitted blanket on the back of the sofa she's sleeping on. Slow, gentle, and careful not to wake her, I drape the blanket over her. She nuzzles into it as soon as it's covering her, and her small hands reach to grab at the end, pulling it close to her chin.
Tiptoeing back to my own sofa across from her, I sit. Sweeping my legs up, I lay down, resting my head on the comfortable day pillow. It's not exactly the best pillow for an entire night's rest, but it's all I have to work with. I tug at the blanket laying across the back of the wicker sofa and pull it onto me, then I close my eyes.
And I open them. I kind of just want to look at Maddy one last time. For a second, I think she's awake and staring back at me. I'm sure that's another daydream, though.
I imagine her eyes flickering open a little, seeing me laying there across from her, and her lips curl into a cute little smile.
“Good night, Declan,” she says, soft and sweet. “I missed you.”
It's just a dream. I know this. I watch her for a few more seconds, the image of her as an ethereal, moonlit angel permanently burned into my mind. I don't think I could forget it if I tried, but I also don't want to ever forget how she looks at this very moment. She's so beautiful and pristine and pure. She's so…
“Good night, Maddy,” I whisper. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
I really liked writing this chapter. I had a lot of fun with it, and I think Maddy and Declan coming together at the end was cute. Declan's feelings are obviously not very pure, but he's working on it, maybe…
Why's Maddy sleeping on the porch, though? Haha. That part is in the next chapter, so you'll have to keep an eye out for that! There's a lot that's going to happen in the next couple of weeks to set everything up. I'm really excited about it, and I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
Also, I have a title! I think, at least. I'm keeping an open mind, but so far I'm thinking of going with One Night Sin, since I like the sound of it and I think it's interesting. Kind of like One Night Stand, you know? Except these two will be doing some sinning, so… <3
That's going to get complicated, but I think they can make it through. I like the double forbidden angle, haha.
Thanks for reading Maddy & Declan's story so far! I really hope you're enjoying it. Let me know what you think!
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