by Amanda Wals
"I didn't know I was going to do that." I looked around a moment, wondering what the fuck had gotten into me, as people started talking again. I was getting plenty of looks, though. "I should get out of here before someone calls the cops."
"Yeah, let's go." John and the others grabbed their stuff. A couple of them gave me a playful shove as we walked back to our cars. I wasn't feeling jovial about it, though. I was already starting to think about how the hell I was going to explain myself when Amy got wind of this. Hopefully, she wouldn't find out.
Yeah... Right.
* *
That night I had the house to myself again. I was kicked back on the bed, in the dark, listening to an old Portishead album and sipping a beer. It was well past midnight and I was starting to drift off when I felt a small hand on my chest.
Amy sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at me. I could only make out her silhouette in the shadows, but the smell of her perfume was unmistakable.
"Hey. When did you get home?" I asked, yawning.
"Just a few minutes ago." She replied as she grabbed my beer from the nightstand and took a sip.
"Thief." I mumbled as I reached over and hit the light switch on my desk lamp. I looked up at her and took in the way the soft light fell across her face. Her eyes were still rimmed in sadness. It would take a little while before she was over Jeff, I suspected. But, goddamn, she was beautiful. Suddenly self conscious about the way I found myself looking at her, I blinked away and reached for my beer.
She held up a finger at me and took a big swig from the bottle before passing it back. I polished it off and set the empty on the nightstand.
"So," she began, "my big brother is full of surprises lately."
"Oh?" I had a feeling where this was headed, but elected to play dumb and hope for the best. "Which one is that?"
"The only one I have." She responded quietly. "From what I hear, he beat the shit out of my ex-boyfriend at the Seventh Street food court today."
"Sounds like your big brother is an impulsive, immature jackass who should have stayed out of it to me." I sighed, resolutely looking away from her, pretending to be highly interested the goings on outside the bedroom window.
"Well, he can certainly be a jackass sometimes." She took my hand and squeezed it, "but I love that he cares and wants to protect me anyway."
"I wish I could say that's what it was," I replied. "But that wouldn't be entirely true."
Amy gave me a curious look.
"I didn't set out to kick his ass today. I was at the food court with some friends and happened to notice him there. He was laughing at cutting up with his little buddies. I just flashed back on how hurt and upset you were last night... and I just... I saw red." I sighed. "I just reacted with stupid macho bullshit. I'm kind of ashamed of it, to be honest."
"Well, don't be. He's an asshole." She smiled softly, "I have to admit, I was shocked when I heard what you did. But it also made me realize that we hadn't grown apart as much I thought we had. I like knowing that."
I looked over at her and she locked her beautiful blue eyes on mine. Neither of us said anything for a moment. I was unsure what to say, still genuinely embarrassed by my lack of self control, and who knows what she was thinking.
Finally, she spoke "Did you really call him a rotted cunt?" I had never heard her use that word, and was briefly taken aback.
"Um... Yeah. I think I did. I don't really remember." Did I call him that? Wow. I was pissed off.
"That's kinda gross, Adam." She made a face at me. "Even if it's true."
We both chuckled at that as she stood up to leave. "I'm glad you're okay. I don't mean to imply anything, but he's quite a bit bigger than you."
"People have been enjoying pointing that out to me today." I sighed.
When she got to the doorway, she looked back at me for a moment.
"I'm going to have to remember that line the next time some chick pisses me off. Rotted cunt has a nice ring to it." With that, she disappeared to her bedroom.
* *
A few weeks passed, pretty much like normal until one morning as I sat at the bar in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee when Amy came wandering into the kitchen wearing my This Mortal Coil shirt. She cut her half open eyes at me and mumbled something to the effect of "caffeine" but I wasn't entirely sure. Reaching for a coffee cup from the cabinet with her back to me, her (my) shirt pulled up, revealing her magnificent ass that was covered in only a pair of blue bikini cut panties. I had to discreetly adjust myself as my erection was instantaneous.
"Don't you have any clothes of your own?" I mumbled, motioning to my shirt.
"Yeah, but yours are more comfortable to sleep in." She grinned a little.
"Uh huh." I sipped my coffee and tried like hell to get the image of the perfect ass that I had just seen off of my mind. It felt like it was burned into my retinas as if I had stared at the sun.
"What are you doing today? Are you off?" She asked as she leaned against the bar over her coffee, thrusting her ass back from her body, which again called my attention to her lovely shape.
"I don't really have anything planned." I stretched "Maybe hit the bar tonight with the guys."
"But nothing today?"
"Not really."
"Would you like to hang out with me?" She asked, a little bashfully. "Maybe go walk the nature trails in the park or something? It's supposed to be a nice day out."
I thought about it a moment, then nodded. "Sure. Sounds like fun."
I could feel the smile emitting from her before I even glanced up to see it.
"Awesome! We're going to have so much fun!" She practically bounced out of the kitchen to go get ready. I have to admit, her excitement was a little infectious.
A short while later, I showered and dressed in tan cargo shorts and a blue Radiohead shirt. I packed the car with my backpack of art supplies (I always had a sketchbook or two with me), bottled water, soft drinks, a blanket, cookware, ice chest, and a few other bits. Amy came out to the car wearing a pair of cut offs and a loose fitting gray shirt. Her long black hair was pulled up in a ponytail, exposing her sensual neck. She was gorgeous.
"What's all this for?" She asked, motioning to the backseat.
"I thought we could use one of the grills at the park and cook some burgers later."
"Sounds perfect!" She exclaimed as she hopped in the car.
We arrived at the park by mid-morning and mercifully, it wasn't yet crowded. We spent the rest of the morning walking the nature trails, as we had loved to do when we were children. We talked a lot about different memories we had shared coming to this park all of our lives, and mostly just enjoyed the sun and each others' company. I couldn't help noticing how delicate her hands looked when she slapped at a bug, rubbing her neck where it had been climbing on her. She just seemed like such an exquisite and otherworldly creature to me, and I couldn't seem to shake the hold that she had on my mind.
When we got back to the picnic area, I got the coals started on the grill and began sketching piles of driftwood at the edge of the lake desperately trying not to stare at Amy stretched out on the blanket, taking in the sun. There were more people in the park now, and a couple of guys came by and started flirting with Amy. I felt pangs of jealousy that I did my best to stamp out by concentrating on the grill and resolutely ignoring them. I was beginning to think I was seriously fucked up in the head. She was my sister, for crying out loud. What the hell was I thinking? Amy was gracious with them, but finally sent them on their way, much to my relief.
After lunch, we packed everything back in the car, and I suggested we rent a canoe to paddle the lake. Amy thought it was a great idea, and we had a fun time paddling out along the waterline far from the camp site and all the people that were around there. I took advantage of being seated to the rear of the canoe for paddling reasons and allowed myself to gaze longingly at her many times because her back was to me. I loved watching the way the sun worshiped her skin, perspiration lightly gli
stening on her neck and upper back like a glaze. Thankfully, it was a beautiful day out, and Amy enjoyed looking at the birds and other wildlife that congregated around the lake. I caught a small turtle that she thought was adorable and let it wander around in the bottom of the canoe for a few minutes before she begrudgingly released it back into the water. The delighted expression she kept on her face as she played with the turtle was far more adorable than the admittedly cute little turtle could ever be. After several hours that passed faster than I would have liked, we headed home. It was the best time I had spent with anyone in quite a long time.
* *
Over the next several weeks, Amy started hanging out at home more frequently. She would often come up to my room after dinner and do homework while I painted. Sometimes she'd talk endlessly about different topics as I prepped canvasses and mixed paints, but she seemed to understand that I needed quiet when I was actually working on a design. When I was painting, she would keep quiet and focus on her studies, read, and once in a while, take a nap.
She took a liking to some of the music I played while I worked, and would occasionally request that I make her a copy of some of it. I was amused when she told me that she finally got around to looking up some Einsturzende Neubauten songs and, while she liked the shirt that she had stolen from me, she couldn't understand what I found appealing about the band. I laughed and told her it was an acquired taste.
I found that I genuinely enjoyed her company a great deal, and would sometimes wind up in a debate of some kind or another and get nowhere on the painting I was working on. She was smart, very likely smarter than me, funny, easy to talk to, and had some idea of what she wanted to do with her life, which was more than I could claim.
She liked to travel, and was leaving for Rome soon, a two week trip she had been planning with a couple of friends for several years. They'd saved up for it from their part time jobs and finally had set a date between semesters. I would have loved to see Rome and other parts of Europe myself one day, and we spoke of different places we'd like to visit. I found it hard to keep my eyes off of her, as she would often turn up in her pajamas, which usually consisted of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. She made my life even more complicated when she would turn up after the gym, in tights or running shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt over a sports bra, which accentuated the curves of her breasts. On those occasions, I would try to keep my back to her and keep myself busy, stealing glances at her incredible ass or the swell of her breasts when I felt it was safe to risk doing so.
Somewhat to my dismay, however, I found my attraction to her was not purely physical. She invaded my thoughts at all times of the day and night. For her part, she seemed to enjoy being around me as well. She started texting me while she was in class or while I was at work, telling me about the goings on in her day, or asking me the name of some song or another that I'd had playing when she was around that she wanted to listen to. Her optimism, kind heart, and enthusiasm for life was unbelievably refreshing for me, as I spent much of my time being an introverted hermit, painting away in my room. My friends were all wise asses and bitter artist types. More than once, I found myself wondering why she would want to hang out with me.
The rekindling of our childhood closeness, while not intentional, seemed to please our mother a lot, too. I sometimes spotted mom smiling at us from the corner of my eye when we would hang out together watching TV in the living room or the like. It was all a lot to take in. Guilt gnawed at me for feeling the way that I did about her, but I felt powerless to change it. It was a dead end, and I knew it. There was nothing to hope for here. No future. Just pining away stupidly over something I could never have. I needed to distract myself.
* *
Megan stared at my painting while she chewed her thumbnail, seemingly deep in thought. A little more than a month had passed since the incident in the food court, and she had come by my place to see some of my latest paintings at her own insistence. She slowly moved back and forth down the row of paintings I had leaning against the wall, but kept coming back to the same one.
It was light colored painting, unusual for me, measuring 36 x 48 inches, with light hues of blue, green and yellow throughout. Although it was done in acrylic, it gave off a look similar to a watercolor. The abstract images seemed to form loosely into figures interweaving, sometimes meeting to embrace and sometimes not. The figures were only hinted at, and never fully formed so that the viewer's mind would have to fill in the gaps to realize what they were seeing. From a distance, if one did not focus their eyes on the image and looked at it from the side, there was a very faint depiction of a female face holding an expression of ecstasy into the image that took up the entire canvas. The face was buried under layers and layers of texture, more hinted at than fleshed out. I was quite pleased with the end result. On the surface, it didn't look much different from a lot of my art, color scheme aside, but I had worked very hard to blend in elements of the things I was trying to convey with this one, and I felt like it worked.
"This one," Megan said, speaking around her thumbnail, "there is something about this one. It's really erotic somehow."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I asked.
"Oh it's good, it's very good." She looked up at me. "I've never seen you do anything I thought was erotic before."
"Really? Damn. I thought I had moves." I smirked. "Guess I need to try harder in the sack."
She started chuckling, "Oh you've got moves alright, smart ass."
Megan backed herself up to me and pulled one of my arms over her shoulder, resting my right hand on her left breast. I instinctively started feeling for her nipple ring as I hugged her. Luckily, she'd opted to forego a bra that day. She kept staring the painting for a while, until her eyes closed softly and her breath started to quicken.
"You need to do the show next month. I'm telling you, you have to do it." She whispered, letting her head fall back on my shoulder as she reached behind her and started rubbing my cock through my pants.
"Jesus, Meg, again with this?" I sighed in annoyance, despite the attention she was paying to my prick.
"You need to do it, Adam. Dr. Miller would shit if one of his students turned in something like this as an assignment." She gasped as I twisted the nipple ring slightly between my fingers. "Especially after you dropped his class last semester."
"I don't know. I really hate those things, Meg." Although, I had to admit, the idea of annoying Dr. Miller's pompous self-aggrandizing ass did appeal to me. "Oh what the hell..."
"Really?!" She spun to look at me, my boner suddenly forgotten. "You'll do it? I have the submission forms in my bag!"
"Uhm..." I looked down at the bulge in my pants as she darted to where she had dropped her shoulder bag.
"Oh, I know." She giggled, without even looking back at me. "But I'm grabbing these forms before you change your mind. Then, we can get back to that bit of business."
* *
One Friday afternoon, our parents took off on another of their weekend trips that had become quite common since Amy and I were both adults now. Amy was looking through a women's magazine on my bed while I was working on a new canvas, painting in a second coat of the background color. She held up the magazine to a photo she wanted me to see.
"I'm thinking of adding a blue streak to my hair like this. What do you think?"
I glanced at her for a moment, and then pensively looked away. I dropped my hand to my crotch and grabbed my package.
"Yeah, I was right." I nodded, feigning relief. "Just checking."
She looked at me, baffled. "Checking what?"
"Making sure I was still a guy." I smirked. "Why the hell would you think I know anything about women's hair?"
She rolled her eyes at me. "I just wanted your opinion, ass."
Then she started pointing at me and cackling. Not at the wisecrack, but at me. I looked down to discover that I now had part of a yellow hand print on my cargo shorts, right over my balls. I hadn't thought of the wet paint on
my hands when I decided to make the gesture.
"Damn it!" I sighed, and then started snickering as well.
"That's what you get for being a jackass." She snorted. I couldn't argue with that.
Later that evening, after dinner, she was back in my room again, having changed into boxers and one of my Cure shirts. She was making fun of me as I was adding more partial hand prints to my shorts to hopefully help mask the fact that a paint covered hand had clearly grabbed my nuts.
"You know... You could probably do anything you wanted to your hair and still look beautiful." I offered, feeling a little tense as I said it. She had asked for my opinion, and I guessed I would give it to her.
She looked up at me, smiling bashfully. "Thank you, Adam. That's sweet."
"You really think I look... beautiful?" She asked after a moment. I could see her eyes locked on me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't look up, for fear she would see the answer in my eyes. The answer and more. More than should ever be present in her brother's eyes.
"Definitely," I replied, feeling my chest tighten up as I said it. It was a heartfelt compliment, and one I wasn't entirely comfortable admitting. My eyes continued to avoid hers.
There was an awkward silence in the room, as the computer had finished the playlist I'd had going. Feeling weird about what I'd just said, I went to the laptop and fired up another album. A more upbeat, album that didn't add to the emotional tension I was fighting in myself. She just watched me as I moved about the room, not saying anything.
"Jeff never said I was beautiful." She finally spoke, softly.
"Jeff is an asshole." I replied. "Who gives a shit what he thinks?"
"I know." She smiled. "It's just nice to hear it."
"I call him an asshole all the time." I joked, cutting my eyes at her just in time to duck the pillow flying at my head. I grabbed the pillow and threw it back at her, laughing, grateful for the shift of the mood in the room.
I joined her on the bed and started tickling her, like I had done when we were younger. She thrashed around, squealing, and trying to get away from me while laughing her ass off the whole time. The world felt like it just consisted of that room for a few minutes. I don't know how else to describe how I was feeling at that moment. It wasn't erotic or sexy. I wasn't trying to sneak a feel of her. This was just dumb childish fun, something we hadn't done in a long time. We collapsed on the bed, both sweating a little and gasping for breath. I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling, having worn myself out for a moment and trying not to stare at her heaving chest.
