by Mary Jaine
I could see Nim wavering, and when she turned to me, her heart was in her eyes, and I knew what our decision had to be; mum would have to know, and if she kicked us out, well, she kicked us out, and at least we had options now, somewhere to go if the worst happened. All this flashed through my mind in a heartbeat, but Nimmie knew exactly what I was thinking, and she continued to look at me, wordlessly telling me what she wanted. When I nodded, sealing the agreement, her eyes kindled like they were backlit, bright and hopeful.
Robyn coughed discreetly, jerking us out of our rapt study of each other.
"Tell you what, why don't you go back to your room and have a talk; the others are leaving now, so no-one will notice you're not there in all the hustle and bustle, and one of us will come and get you later; don't worry, we'll get you home in plenty of time, but now I think you need to talk. Just follow Nimmie's bracelet. It'll take you back to your room."
*
Back in our room again, we sat on the rumpled bed and tried to work out what we did next; I knew what I wanted, I always had; I wanted Naomi, pure and simple, and now I had a way to be with her. But it wasn't just my decision; Nimmie had to be in it 100% too, otherwise it couldn't work, so I sat and waited while she debated with herself, until the tension was so thick, so palpable, I could have cut it with a knife.
I'd just about decided that she wasn't going to go for it, that in the final analysis mum, and nursing, and home, and our friends were more important (and I absolutely wouldn't have blamed her; what we were deciding was enormous, life-changing, and final) than what our urges and emotions were telling us to do, when she unclasped my hand, swung her leg over my lap so she was sitting astride me, and kissed me once, a quick peck on the lips.
"Let's do it, Ro; this is what we need. It's about our life now, you and me, and it's what I want..."
Her expression said it had better be what I wanted as well, but still I wavered.
"Nim, what about mum, uni, are you sure...?" but I got no further because her lips were in the way, and they tasted as good as they ever had. As she kissed me, other parts took note and made themselves felt, something Nimmie obviously noticed, to judge by the agonisingly deliberate way she squirmed on my lap, grinding herself against my crotch.
"Roly, we'll go home, we'll tell mum, and one of two things will happen; she'll flip-out, in which case we leave, or she'll accept it, and we'll still leave. Whatever happens, we can't stay there, not like we are now, so we should take up Robyn's offer, do as she suggested, and let the cards fall where they will; I'm not losing you, not after I worked so hard to get you. You're stuck with me now, Rowan Redmond!"
*
Our mother's reaction to our announcement fell somewhere between what I had predicted; mum knew, or had guessed, what was going on; don't ask me how; apparently, all mothers have strange, Jedi-like powers when it comes to reading their children's minds, and mum had twigged a long time ago that I had a more than normal interest in Rowan. Possibly, just possibly, I just wasn't half as ninja-sneaky as I thought I was. Mum noticed my odd behaviour, and put two and two together pretty quickly.
That didn't mean she wasn't mad at us, oh no. While she didn't go into an incandescent rage or start making threats, happy about it all was very far indeed from where she was. When I up and told her it was all my idea, and I'd enticed innocent Rowan away so I could seduce him, that's when she finally went off like a sack of cats.
To say she was mad would only be telling part of it; she wasn't just mad, she was incoherent, but after she calmed down and we yanked her off the ceiling, she actually listened to the plan we'd hatched with Robyn, even if she could have made yoghurt just by staring at a carton of milk, if the sour expression on her face was anything to go by.
"So you really think this...this plan of yours, this whole thing, is going to work, do you? Everyone you know, everyone who knows us, you, they're just going to say 'oh look, Rowan and Naomi have disappeared, oh dear, how sad, never mind?' and never think about it ever again? People are people; they'll ask questions, they'll expect answers. What am I supposed to tell them? No-one's going to believe I don't know where my own children are. They'll ask more questions, and sooner or later someone's going to start getting suspicious and twig on that you two are up to something and I'm covering it up. How am I supposed to get us out of that? Supposing the police come and start asking questions about your disappearance?"
I could see Rowan stirring impatiently while mum wound her way through all this; even I could see it was mostly nerves and panic talking, so I did what I had to do; I pushed Rowan in front of her and let him risk getting his head bitten off. The look he shot me told me I'd pay for that later, but his voice was utterly calm and reasonable, winding her down several notches.
"Look mum, we said we'd go soon, we didn't say we'd just disappear! I have to get a job in an architectural practice if I ever want to have a hope of being chartered, so that's where I'm going; that's all anyone ever needs to know. It happens, mum; graduates leave home, thousands of people do it every year, no-one's going to think anything's out of the ordinary if I do too. As for Nimmie, she's transferring to another university; the course she wants to follow isn't taught at Croydon, so she's transferring to another university in the Midlands; again, students do it all the time, it's normal, it's plausible, no-one will comment, OK?"
Mum held his gaze for a long, uncomfortable few seconds, then her tight expression relaxed and she broke eye contact.
"You really have thought about this," she commented. "OK, I can't stop you; I don't like this at all, but I'm not going to stand in your way either; this is something you both want, and at least you'll be together. Both of you have to promise me one thing, though."
We both looked at each other, then back to her, and nodded.
"Promise me you'll look after each other, and no-one gets hurt. Rowan, Nimmie's going to be your...whatever you want to call it, girlfriend, partner, whatever, but under all that, she's still your sister and my daughter; I expect you to remember that, respect her, and treat her properly. Nimmie, the same goes for you; Rowan's still your brother, don't you hurt him either."
And that was that; mum never really got used to us being who we were, but Rowan was right; not a soul was any the wiser, and so far it's stayed that way.
*
Rowan was eventually awarded his charter, and is now a member of the Chartered institute of Structural Engineers, and a junior partner in the practice owned by Mike and Carys Kershaw; Mike and Carys live in Antibes now, on the French Riviera, a long way from prying eyes and curious neighbours. Their kids take up most of their time, and so they leave the bulk of the operational stuff to Rowan and the team he assembled to carry out Finn and Lara's dreams.
He built the rainforest Robyn hinted at, and other, equally spectacular environments in a few other locations around the world, including my favourite, an underground cavern complex in France based on an idea from a book he once read by Mick Farren, complete with a lake, waterfalls, spa pools, and snug little nooks for couples to hide away and play to their hearts' content. When he goes away to oversee projects, I go home, and let the neighbours see that Nimmie hasn't dropped off the edge of the world; she's still around.
Initially, Rowan and I lived in the main complex; we had our own private apartments that made the President Suite at the Waldorf-Astoria look like a potting shed, and while I'd asked him several times if he'd like somewhere a little less grand than the main house, I knew he preferred to stay where we were; that was the place he always felt most relaxed and connected to his work, and whenever he felt the need for inspiration, he'd ride that elevator all the way to the bottom, and wander aimlessly in the forest, lost in his own personal dreamscape until his thoughts and ideas ordered themselves.
I frequently went with him, and then I usually couldn't resist the temptation to drag him into our cave, tear his clothes off, and let him fuck my brains out behind that shimmering curtain of warm water. I'm sure it was during one of
those sessions that our baby was conceived.
I graduated with my bachelor in Adult Nursing, and became a Registered Nurse, but by that time I'd grown wary of the idea of working long shifts at some hospital and spending so much of my time away from Rowan; I chickened-out, and elected instead to work at the complex, at the really well-equipped clinic away from the main complex. It also meant I could be a housewife and general assistant and moral support whenever Lara or Finn or Haley needed it.
When I first met them I was kind of overawed; Finn is just bloody gorgeous, and Lara has the kind of raven-haired, movie-star beauty that stops men dead in their tracks, but they're the two kindest, nicest, most ordinary people in the world; Robyn, Sylvie and Evan love them to bits, and Lara's housekeeper and best friend, Haley, a booby blonde like me, is the kind of girl everyone needs to have for a best friend.
I was intrigued to discover that Carys is Lara's mother, and Mike is her uncle, and that Finn and Lara owned the entire complex; when Robyn said they were handing the operation over, she really meant it. Now Finn and Lara dream-up new and more spectacular 'Sisterfest' events, I work with Haley to help plan and organise them, and Rowan troubleshoots and makes sure the complex is safe, the various areas and playgrounds are all perfectly in order, and any new and exotic features or technology are all appropriate and safe to use.
Haley has a thing going with Paul, the head of security; she's about the only person here who isn't shacked-up with a sibling, but that's the way the cookie crumbles; after all, we can't all be perfect...
EPILOGUE
When the baby was imminent, Lara came and had a sit-down with me, over what I wanted to do. She was of the opinion that the complex was no place to bring-up a baby, and I had to agree with her, but I hadn't wanted to uproot Rowan, he so loved the place, so Lara had a plan; Mike and Carys' children were not toddlers anymore, and would soon be starting pre-school, so she needed to devote all her time to them; in the meantime, projects from all the other companies Evan and his sisters owned were piling up, so Mike needed help.
Lara's solution was that Rowan and I base ourselves in Antibes; there was already a house there that Evan said we could have if we wanted; they didn't want it, and Rowan could start shouldering more of Mike's work, as well as better manage the design-build of some of the 'Sisterfest' related projects in France, Italy, and Spain. Anytime we wanted to come back for a visit, or a break, there were several company aircraft at our disposal. We could come home at a moment's notice, or fly mum down to us; with the Gulfstream's at our disposal we were only four hours away from London. She left me to think about it and to fill-in Rowan when he got back.
So we jumped, and now here we are; my daughter, a little blonde beauty, with Rowan's smoky hazel eyes and a mix of our features, is almost two years old now. Carys is like an older, more 'mum' version of Lara, and just as gorgeous, and is like a mother to me; she and her two girls spend a lot of time with us, and when Mike and Rowan are away overseeing projects, I pretty much live with them; it's good to have family this far from home, and mum is a regular visitor as well. Haley, bless her, makes sure of that.
Rowan and I have everything we want, a lifestyle others would kill for, surrounded by people we care for, and who care for us. Taking a punt at Rowan all that long time ago really did pay-off for me. I have everything I could ever want, and the best people in the world to share it with. Life is good, and we're all working hard to make sure it stays that way; in fact, there's something I think I want to whisper in Rowan's ear; call me crazy, but I think he'll like it
THE END
* * *
The Art of War
* * *
Part 1: The plot is hatched:
Izzy was truly, monumentally, 100% pissed-off; she put down her phone with a grimace, once again on the receiving-end of a tirade from the cow-mother about nothing much in particular, just ten minutes past her curfew, ten lousy fucking minutes! Ollie busted curfew by at least an hour all the time, and all he got was a pained look. Carol reserved the snotty bitch-crap for her, and it was really pissing her off. For a moment, her expression grew less curdled as she thought of Ollie; although she'd be tortured by Torquemada inside a sack of fire-ants rather than admit it for one second, she thought Ollie was everything a man, a big brother, and, (and this was the part that curled her toes), a boyfriend should be, and seeing him every day lusting after other girls made her sad, angry, and deeply, hotly jealous, yet another set of thoughts and feelings she'd never share with anyone, especially him; what was the point? He was her big brother, and forever out of reach; better to get back to the business at hand, a way to fix that moody, rat-bag mother of theirs once and for all.
She flopped down on her bed, complicated and painful revenge schemes chasing through her mind. If only Dad hadn't done a runner. Izzy was sure most of Carol's bitch-crap could be traced back to when Dad decided he liked his new marketing trainee better than her mother, and Izzy was still at a loss to understand why. She had the bedroom above her parents and she used to hear them going at it every night; sometimes she'd grin at the grunting, begging, whimpering, muffled howling and twanging of tortured bedsprings, sometimes she'd cover her head with a pillow and try and drown-out the sound of Carol being royally rogered, and other times she'd wank along to the sounds of fucking, sucking, and protracted howling orgasms, having a few of her own along the way to keep pace with the almighty humping her mother was getting.
And then Dad had decided that the blowsy, saggy-titted, sweaty, splotchy, bottle-blonde tart of a marketing trainee was more to his liking; obviously he believed the younger the meat, the sweeter the treat, and she was younger than Mum, much younger (try 'just out of her teens' Izzy, her subconscious snickered hatefully...) and Dad was obviously more attracted to her fat arse and saggy tits and the teeth-grating, sandpapery sound of her thighs rubbing together when she walked than he was to her mother's svelte, slender, catwalk-model frame; why that should be was forever beyond her comprehension...
Five years down the road, and her mother had only just begun dating again, which puzzled Izzy; Dad had fucked off with that saggy-assed bleached strumpet and he was obviously getting his regular portion, to judge by the stupid, self-satisfied smirk constantly pasted on his admittedly handsome face. Carol was a MILF no matter how you looked at her; surely she should be getting some soon? But no, all her dates, every single one them, without exception, dropped her off early. She gave them a curt nod goodbye, and that was that.
And yet it made no sense. All the husbands up and down the street stopped even pretending to not ogle her when Carol Bartlett walked by, unconsciously radiating 'come and get me' out loud, her taut, comely, bumly bum quivering like hard-set jelly. They just gazed wistfully at all that scrumptious woman going to waste, for want of a good, hard shafting. Most of them would have settled for just a knee-trembler, a hand-job, even a soapy tit-wank, anything, just as long as they got to squeeze those tight buns and cuddle those luscious puppies that were giving every man in the area distinctly un-husbandly thoughts...
Izzy usually got the fallout from Carol's disastrous dates; she'd come indoors in a foul mood, as usual, and erupt at her daughter for the most trivial reasons, until Izzy had finally had enough; bad moods were one thing, but now, this was war, and Izzy thought that maybe she knew what would restore peace in the house, and get her mother off her fucking back permanently. Who knew, maybe it might even make her a little more liberal in the way she treated her (almost) twenty year-old daughter.
With Izzy, to think was to act, so she tip-toed down the hall and let herself into Ollie's room. He wasn't there, of course. Once again he was giving Carol's curfew the finger, secure in the knowledge that nothing would be said. She decided to wait for him. As she waited, spinning aimlessly in his computer chair, curiosity got the better of her, and when she bumped the computer mouse, the screen flicked on, to the open desktop; he hadn't locked his computer, well, my goodness, how interesting!
She began idly s
kimming through his desktop, finding nothing much of interest, only uni stuff, training fixtures and suchlike, until she clicked on his Google browsing history, and grinned at the list of porn sites, only to be expected in the computer of a twenty-one year-old single male, but it was the type of sites that made her grin: they were all mother-son and brother-sister incest porn sites.
"Oh Ollie, really?" she smirked to herself as she skimmed through the sites, and looked through his folder lists for anything that might give a clue as to just what else he was into, other than simply the incest angle. At first nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at her; mostly course-related work, saved games, lots of 'You Tube' videos of all sorts of stupid stuff that only Ollie would find funny; half-wits crushing their balls in disastrous skateboard and BMX stunts, epic fails, that kind of stuff, then finally, hidden in his 'My Documents' folder, she found one labelled 'Miscellaneous'.
When she opened it, she knew she'd hit pay-dirt. Folder after folder of thumbnails and video clips of all kinds of sex acts between young men and older women, with titles like 'Step-Mom Surrender', or 'Mom's Anal Pounding', and clips of young couples, with names like 'My Sister's Tight Pussy', 'Sister Seduction', and 'Sister Gives Up The Ass'.
"You dirty little..." she breathed, clicking on one of the folders then clicking on a file at random. Immediately a stunning older woman flashed on screen, flirting with a young male on a sun lounger. Izzy turned the volume up so she could cop the cheesy dialogue while the pair of them took 15 seconds to go from chatting to her sucking his oversized dick.
