By Jane Doe
Lana
Since her sudden disappearance, I haven’t really seen Jen. It’s been days since she’s had dinner with me. She leaves before I get up and walks to school I guess, I wish she wouldn’t do it… but she hasn’t missed school, and I know she’s eating. So what right do I have to demand anything of her? Especially when I’m the one that put her in this state.
But now it’s Friday. I still haven’t seen her but after school I go and pick up a couple of movies anyways. Between awful horror and artsy drama I hope I can make enough of an apology. I’m really hoping she shows up. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t show up at all. Our curfews are pretty loose on the weekends… but all the same I have to try. Movies she’ll love, Chinese from her favorite place, everything about her. I have to make it up to her somehow.
At the same time, it’s been nice having these couple of days to think about things. If she’s into Lucy, then really, who am I to stand in the way? I love them both, though I’d have to beat Lucy bloody if she broke my little sister’s heart.
At the same time… that was an absurdly nice kiss. I really have to wonder if I’m gay. Or lesbian, whatever you want to call it. So soft and sweet and gentle, it just felt right. Okay, maybe not entirely right, but a hell of a lot closer than anything else I’ve ever done. It kind of makes me think I just need to find the right girl. Worth a try at least. But what would the right girl be like?
I’m on the couch pondering such matters when my little sister comes walking through the door. She looks a bit ragged, like she hasn’t been sleeping, and has new adornments in the form of a hoop in her left nostril and a third piercing in her right ear. But even looking so tired and with the slightly raw new holes, she’s still my beautiful Jen and I give her a wide smile as she walks in.
*****
Jen
I haven’t talked to Lana in days, but when I walk in she’s there on the couch, smiling at me. She looks so happy to see me, and perhaps a bit relieved. My heart tightens in my chest as I try to stay cold, unaffected by her… not that it works. The warmth in her smile could melt me on my most hateful days, and today I’m just tired. Even with everything that’s happened I just want to kiss her, to tell her how I feel, to have her as my own… instead, I give her a weak smile in return.
“Hey Lana… what’s up?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound as weak as I feel.
She gives me a mildly reproachful look, and I pause, running through what I could have done to earn such an expression. My mind is still processing when she answers both my asked and unasked questions. “Not much, just waiting on you. We had a date tonight, in case you managed to forget. Movies, popcorn ready to be popped and Chinese on the way already. I figured even if you had forgotten the smell of orange chicken would summon you from wherever you ended up hiding.”
I can’t help but smile at the knowing look on her face. I wanted to tell her that as much as I love orange chicken, I’d do a lot more and travel a whole lot farther to see her smile at me again… to wake up next to her again. But as is my habit, I keep my damn fool mouth shut.
I leave my shoes and backpack by the door and wander over to inspect the rentals for the night, and I’m amazed to see Hellraiser and Lost and Delirious side by side on the coffee table. I look up and she’s giving me another one of those knowing smiles. All I can do is plop down beside her and lean against her, nuzzling into her shoulder. She slides an arm around my shoulder and I wonder how the hell I’m ever supposed to get my heart back.
“So, which do you want to watch first?” she asks, giving me a light kiss on top of my head.
“Doesn’t matter to me, I love ’em both, as you well know.” I want to tell her how lucky I feel to have her there. How I must have done something really good in a previous life to deserve her, even if we’re never more than sisters. But it just doesn’t seem the time to say things like that, silly as that may sound.
“All righty, then it’s my choice… may as well get the pain out of the way first.”
She picks up the case with the Hellraiser DVD and extricates herself long enough to go put it in the player, then returns to the couch and our closeness. I know how much she hates horror movies… personally I think she’s just easy to scare, and has never had someone she really liked to turn to for comfort. The whole “take the girl to the horror movie so she’ll cringe against you” thing. She’s always been too self reliant, the one who has to take care of other people, not get taken care of.
Me? I’m just morbid. Or at least that seems the best reason to be fascinated by things that other people find horrifying, like Pinhead using animated chains to tear people apart in some weird sado-masochistic underworld…
We stay curled up on the couch until the Chinese arrives, about a half an hour in. The movie gets paused while we eat, since I think it would be mean to make her eat chunks of meat and sauce while watching… well, you get the idea. Like Chinese places don’t have enough problems with rumors of unknown meat sources.
We get the movie going again once we’re stuffed, and as it gets more demented her arm tightens around me now and again, keeping me close. When she stiffens up I nuzzle her shoulder a bit, breathing her scent in deeply, or otherwise snuggle up a bit more, and she seems at least a bit comforted by my presence.
I don’t think I could be any happier, despite the whole Lucy thing. No, no, don’t think about that.
Finally the movie ends, to my disappointment, and she gets up again to change the DVDs. To my surprise she then wanders off into the kitchen, and I’m left looking after her, curiosity perking as I hear her digging in the fridge or freezer or something.
*****
Lana
What better to take my mind off of horrible scenes of torture than… ice cream? I dig in the freezer, pulling out the two pints I’d picked up earlier. Irish cream with mocha chips for me and vanilla ice cream with brownie chunks and a raspberry swirl for her. Grabbing a couple of spoons I head back out to the living room and she’s just barely peeking over the back of the couch, watching for me. It’s so cute, I can’t help but laugh.
She perks up when she sees the small cartons in my hands, raising up a bit so I can see her smile. “Whatcha got there? Presents?” she asks, that impish smile on her lips and eyes bright.
“Maybe, if you promise to behave,” I laugh, walking around the couch and handing her the ice cream I got for her. She takes it, letting out a little squeak of delight and bouncing on the couch. She digs in and I pop the next DVD into the player. She seems mesmerized by the movie as it plays. I mostly ignore it, watching her instead.
I decide that there is no time like the present to broach uncomfortable subjects… so I take a deep breath and forge ahead, ready for… something.
“You know Jen… the other night. That was really nothing. If you have a thing for Lucy, go ahead — you’re more important to me than she could ever be.”
Whatever I expected, her response isn’t it. She lets out a short, derisive laugh, almost more of a bark, looking over at me, surprise plain on her face.
“Lucy? Me? No, never!” The incredulity shows in her voice and I simply blink at her, puzzled. Her mouth snaps shut and her face blushes a deep crimson, as though she’s said too much. She turns back to the movie, leaving me with my confusion.
My mouth snaps shut as I think it through… she’s no homophobe, she doesn’t have a crush on Lucy… and my mind wanders to the feel of her eyes on me, the way she watches me, how she looks away when she sees I’ve noticed these things…
Oh, my God. I understand. I understand everything.
And for once in my life, impulse takes over.
I smile over at her. “Oh, okay, no biggie… hey, you want to try my ice cream? It’s really good.”
She glances at me, then shyly returns my smile and nods, leaning over towards me and opening her mouth. I get a nice spoonful of my Irish cream and mocha chip and take a bite, savoring the taste for just a moment as she looks at me, a bit pouty, as though I’m teasing her. And I guess I am. I give her another brief smile, and before my brain can object I lean forward, melding my lips to hers and sharing the heady sweetness — not only of the ice cream, but of the kiss as well.
The kiss isn’t at all what I expected. I couldn’t tell you what I expected… I don’t really know myself. But there in the dark, with the movie playing in the background, the whole world consisted of that kiss, the warmth, the passion, the tenderness and the hunger in it.
It’s like she wants to devour me, and all I can do is submit and let her take from me what she desires. Except she’s giving me back something too. Her hand slides around to the back of my neck, holding me there, mouths pressed together, lips melded and tongues exploring each other’s mouths, feeling, tasting. But it’s more than ice cream being shared, it lasts long past the sweet cream and chocolate.
She’s pouring out her heart to me, I can feel it, every repressed feeling, all her lust, all her love, all her shame and anger, she’s sharing it all with me. And I drink it all in, because to me it’s the sweetest nectar in the world, more sustaining than mother’s milk and more precious than ambrosia.
When we finally break apart I’m left breathless, and I pull back a bit to make an attempt at gathering my thoughts. She’s staring at me in the darkness, face half lit by the glow of the television and it makes me ache to see the uncertainty written across her features. Her eyes are like the midnight sky and I see such profound desire in them as well. Our eyes meet for a moment and I can’t help but look away from the intensity in her gaze, it’s all too overwhelming. My heart is hammering in my chest and I’m almost gasping for breath.
Why the fuck did I do that? Why did I stop? What the hell am I supposed to do now? I look up and meet her gaze once again. “Jen, I…”
She cuts me off as she darts forward, kissing me this time. I can’t resist the siren’s call of her lips, or the heat growing in the pit of my stomach, nor do I want to. I slowly lean back towards the arm of the couch and she moves with me, sliding up on top of me, her heat and weight pressing into me. My arms slide around her waist and I trail my hands slowly up and down the curves of her back, along her spine and down her ribs, learning every contour, every plane and every angle.
No boy has ever been like this, so soft, even in her most consuming moments of passion, so ardently adoring, so giving… not even Lucy was like this, it’s indescribable. The scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her on top of me, her hands wandering, somewhere between greedy and worshipful.
We spend what seems like forever like that on the couch, kissing, touching, tasting, breathing the same breath as though we were one. I abandon myself to her completely as I never have with anyone else, shivering as her hands pass over my stomach and breasts, a tingle of pleasure running through me, centering where she touches me but the feeling spreading, radiating outwards from her hands, running through my body like fire and sending chills up and down my spine. I let her touch me where no one has, but then again, she’s not touching me like anyone else has.
Jen pulls away from me, looking up and over me, and all I can process is how absolutely gorgeous she looks in that moment. Her head cocked ever so slightly, hair a bit mussed. I reach up and smooth it out, letting the silky strands slide through my fingers. I try to pull her down into another kiss, but she shushes me, resisting my pull. She puts a finger to my lips and I gently pull it into my mouth and suck on it as I notice the movie has returned to its title screen, and I hear the slamming of a car door out front, signaling the return of our father from work.
*****
Jen
She kissed me, she actually kissed me! Not at all a sisterly kiss either. It was everything I’d ever imagined, and more. Our eyes are locked but she breaks the contact and looks away. Is she going to apologize? Or worse, yet, say it was horrid and wrong and that we should never speak of it again, much less do it again? God, I can’t let that happen. I don’t even hear the words when she starts talking, I just have to kiss her again… and again, and again. She seems to melt back and I follow her, not willing to let our contact be broken again. This is heaven.
It’s almost like making love with our mouths, penetrating deep inside one another, sharing the most intimate, hidden pieces of ourselves, all in a kiss. The wetness, the softness of her lips, breathing in as she breathes out, just as we did that day. My hands start roaming of their own volition, first over her sides, then I push myself up on one elbow so my other hand is free to slide over her stomach and hips, eventually straying ever farther upwards, skirting around the swells of her breasts and then finally gently cupping one, then the other, my thumb finding her nipples tense under her shirt, tracing around them and then passing over them. They’re supple and soft in my hand, nothing like touching my own… I could get lost in this, and I do for a long time.
To feel her soft moans in my mouth, the vibrations sending shivers through me and her body’s writhing almost enough to make me come. Then I more feel than see the light, only for a moment but enough to catch my attention. I push myself up, listening for a sound that might indicate Dad’s arrival. I know she’s looking at me, trying to get my attention again — her fingers running through my hair is a distraction, and how I wish I could let her pull me down when she tries.
My heart leaps with joy when I realize what Lana just did. Maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, but she wants more—her other hand is still sliding over my back, and I almost tremble with the effort of resisting her, putting a finger on those soft, still wet lips to keep her quiet. She begins sucking on my forefinger, the soft yet almost rough surface of her tongue teasing at its tip.
My body is quivering and I’m about to return to her when I hear it, the car door closing, heralding a major disruption. She’s caught on as well and we move like one, I sit up and snatch the remote, going for a random scene selection as she sits up, smoothing her hair and adjusting her clothes, then giving me a smile that tempts me to kiss her again. Instead I just lean against her and pull the afghan down over us, and we’re curled up, innocent as can be, when Dad comes through the door.
He gives us a brief nod, looking tired as always, then heads upstairs without even asking about dinner. Once he’s out of sight we both let out soft sighs of relief, and I wonder if she was holding her breath like I was.
I glance over at her, grinning my fool head off, and a smile slowly spreads on her face as well, until neither of us can hold back the giggles. We collapse against one another, giggling like mad. Her arms slide around me once again and I eventually come to rest, head on her shoulder, face against her neck, curled in against her, stroking her neck with my fingertips. I take a deep breath in, filling my lungs with the perfume of her skin and her hair before giving her neck a soft nuzzle.
“Lana?”
“Yeah?” she asks, kissing my hair before burying her face in it, seemingly enjoying the closeness as much as I am.
“I love you.”
She’s quiet for a moment, but it’s not a tense quiet. She squeezes me gently, nuzzling the top of my head and planting a few kisses before responding, lending the quiet a soft affection rather than weighing it down with anxiety.
“I love you too, my little miscreant.” I can hear the smile in her voice and I laugh softly, giving one of her nipples a little tweak. She hums out a soft noise of pleasure and frustration, sliding one of her hands down to give me a light smack on the butt. I can’t help but grin and giggle and soon we’re giddy again, laughing softly, mindful of Dad’s presence upstairs.
*****
Lana
Dear God, she’s beautiful. Lying against me like this, small and vulnerable and sweet, sheltering against my body, I can feel her adoration and love running through me. I’m in one of those moments of pure contentment, the bliss of emotion without thought. Feeling like this I can understand why she likes sleeping with me so much. I hold her close and never want to let her go.
Her hair has a strange, subtle fragrance. It makes me feel almost high, though I know that’s more because of what we’ve been doing than any actual component of the scent—but it’s gorgeous regardless. It’s just like her presence. Understated, delicate, hard to define and utterly intoxicating.
Somewhere in the back of my brain a voice is trying to scream at me, tell me this is wrong. It’s amazingly easy to ignore it, though. She seems so perfect right now and it felt so right—feels so right. I love her and she loves me. What could be wrong with that?
I idly stroke her hair and actually start paying attention to the movie, in a vague sort of way. Her steady breathing lulls me into a perfect state of calm, the rhythms of my heart, my hand and her chest gently rising and falling, all blending together to create a trancelike beat. By the end of the movie there are soft tears slipping down my cheeks, its statements of love and loss having taken root in my heart. I give the top of her head a kiss and make a promise to myself first, and then to her.
“Jen.” She looks up at me, smiling faintly.
“Good movie, eh?”
“I’ll never leave you. Never. No matter what.”
She just smiles and settles in against me once again. That’s all the response I need. No questions, no return vows. Her body speaks of trust and faith and devotion more eloquently than any writer or poet could. I’m everything to her, or I will be. Such an odd thought. I’m her big sister, the closest she’s ever known to a mother… and now… I know in my heart where this might lead, but I can’t bring myself to think of it like that yet. Yet. Someday, maybe even someday soon…
*****
Jen
We just lie there for a while after the movie ends. Everything too perfect to want to move and ruin it. Or maybe just afraid that if we move it will be ruined. Finally I push myself up, out of her arms and she watches me as I stand. Hey eyes are like dark pools, her hair a dark golden red sheet where the light is hitting it, and I smile down at her as I offer my hand. This isn’t normal, she’s usually the one in charge. Even so, I guide her to a standing position and slide my arms around her neck, pulling her into a soft, closed-mouth kiss.
No, nothing has changed, nothing has been ruined by getting up. So I slide a hand down and take one of hers, leading her slowly upstairs to her room. I simply shed my jeans and watch her as she slowly gets changed, right there in front of me. Her back is to me, but somehow that makes it all the more tantalizing.
She pulls her shirt up, slowly exposing the small of her back, then the smooth expanses up to her shoulder blades, divided by the line of her spine. My mouth is dry, remembering the feel of that soft, white skin under my hands, its smoothness and warmth. She pulls the shirt off over her head, the muscles of her back flexing and sliding smoothly under her skin. I want to reach out and touch her, but instead I just watch. She takes what seems like an eternity to slide her pants down and off, exposing first the firm, rounded curve of her ass, covered only by white bikini underwear… white cotton… so very her.
It’s hard to swallow and my heart is thundering as my eyes take in the smooth, taut lengths of her legs. Her thighs, the curves running down to her calves, long and toned, her skin, fair and almost luminous, no matter how hard she tries to tan. She leans over and steps out of her pants, and I want to feel her back and legs as she moves them, all of her actions slow and deliberate.
I remember how she writhed and quivered beneath me, the heat that was nearly exploding off of both of our bodies. I spy a brief glimpse of a wet patch on her underwear as she straightens, evidence of the effect I had on her. It almost makes me proud of myself. I can’t focus on just one part as she stands there before me, shrouded only in her hair and her panties. My eyes greedily slide over every inch of her I can see, devouring the visage of her flowering womanhood.
Her hips are a soft curve, the lines of her sides stretching upwards, her legs down. She’s standing on one foot, the other bent and gently toeing the carpet next to her firmly planted foot. I can imagine her chewing her lip, deciding on what to wear. I can’t fathom what would make it a hard decision but I’ll enjoy her deliberations, nonetheless.
Not one movement is lost on me, all my attention is so focused on her. She crosses her arms across her chest for a moment then rests a hand on her hip, her body taking on a new posture that illuminates new aspects of her form, the flow of her stances, her stunning grace.
She finally reaches into her closet, pulling out an old dress shirt of Dad’s, worn soft through years of wear. She pulls it on and turns around without buttoning it, smiling as I gape at the strip of naked flesh, running from below her navel all the way up, over her firm stomach to her chest, just barely showing the beginning of the swells of her breasts, to the hollow of her throat.
I feel as if I’m frozen as she walks over to me, sitting on the edge of her bed, and cradles my head to her chest. My arms move of their own volition around her waist and I kiss the smooth valley at the center of her chest, slowly standing and letting my mouth wander up over her collarbone and neck. Her sighs and moans into my ear are soft but heartfelt, and we fall back onto the bed.
Between kisses we slowly right ourselves on the bed and slide under the covers. Our legs twine together as eagerly as our tongues and we wrap around one another, getting fully entangled, breathing deeply when the kisses stop. I look into those soft, aqua eyes of hers and love everything I see there. Her smile is brilliant, even in the darkness.
“I love you, you sweet, sweet thing.” Her voice is soft, but clear in the silence of the house. “How long have you been thinking about, well, this?”
I can feel myself blushing and looking away, but she catches my chin and gives me a lingering kiss, sending a chill down my spine and causing me to press in against her body.
“Jen, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing you can’t share with me. Haven’t we proven that already?”
“Well, we haven’t done everything yet…” I try for a bit of an impish grin, not fully understanding my embarrassment but wanting to hide it all the same.
Her laugh is like a silver chime, cutting through my darker feelings and leaving only the urge to laugh along with her. I smile, looking to her willingly again, shaking my head a bit.
“Well? You haven’t answered me.” She’s smiling in return, and stroking my cheek. Her eyes are curious but not judgmental, warm and loving. How can I resist a look like that?
“Since after the accident. I mean, it was terrifying… You were bloody and not moving… I kissed you then. I mean… we kind of kissed. I don’t know what I meant. It’s not all clear…” I’m blushing again, stumbling over my words until her finger on my lips shushes me. She’s got a wry little smile on her lips and her eyes are sparkling with amusement.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember our fist kiss then. It might have made things easier on you if I had; then again, who knows how I would’ve reacted then. The important thing is now. I love you, you love me. We both know it, we’re both dealing with it, right?” All I can do is nod. “Let’s not rush into things though, no reason to hurry through what we might enjoy a whole lot.” She’s smiling, a tinge of wickedness in her eyes. I think it’s the sexiest look she’s ever given me, inviting, teasing, but still loving.
I settle in against her, lightly kissing her neck and nestling my head on her shoulder again. Slowly I drift off to sleep, keeping her close, kissing and lightly sucking on her neck as she strokes my hair, listening to her heartbeat. Sleep has never come so easily.
Continue on to Chapter 4
Erotically poetic! <3