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Just Jump

By: Rob_mDear



Then

Andy dragged his luggage along behind him, finally off the plane and cruising through the airport, feeling worn out yet still energetic, happy to be on his home turf and finally away from his childhood home. Brian was right, in a way. He did need to get married and get a house, but not in order to "grow up." He had to do it so he had a reason not to haul his ass half way across the country several times a year for stupid holidays.

Thanksgiving sucked worst of all. It amounted to a lot of travel for one too long day of food and football and all out sibling and parental combat. Andy spent the time putting up with intrusions into his life by his older brother and sister and his mother and father. That delight was followed by three more long boring days with nothing to do but to fume and simmer about that first day, or to listen to Mom and Dad battle and scream. All the while he was just waiting to go home, to his own, real, current home. That then meant struggling along with all of the other sorry souls bouncing in random directions trying to get home, too, like a bunch of worms wriggling around in a can on a fishing trip.

The only good thing about going home for Thanksgiving, or again for Christmas or Mom's birthday or anything, was seeing Taylor, and this time he hadn't seen her once after Thanksgiving day, even though he'd stayed for three more. He needed to talk to her badly.

Andy stopped in his tracks. It sucked. He hadn't seen her once after Thanksgiving Day and he only had himself to blame for it.

A flight attendant was hustling along behind him with more of a sense of urgency and purpose. She hadn't expected him to suddenly halt to wallow in self recrimination, with the result that she almost knocked him over. She was cute, and the minor collision was just the sort of casual opening he could take advantage of to strike up a conversation her.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," she said.

Her voice was a breathy chirp, and very naturally sexy. Andy instinctively beamed a smile at her, watching her eyes reflexively light up when she saw it. It worked every time, so well that it was a thoughtless, habitual tactic for him now. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried.

"It's okay. It was my fault."

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to make up her mind. Then a delicate, well manicured hand reached out in that contemporary way, half offering a hand for an almost intimate he-she handshake, but turned palm slightly downward as if she were hoping that he'd romantically kiss it instead of shake it.

He uncharacteristically stared at her hand for a long moment before taking it. Normally, that was a way forward that he smoothly and easily accepted. Before it became too awkward, he reached out to take her hand.

"I'm Allison."

"Andy."

She smiled, looking as if she were about to say something, then thought better of it. She was too cute. She was petite and strikingly thin, but in a soft, curvy way. She was very blond, with nice legs and what looked to him to be very inviting blue eyes. She looked great and was sending all of the usual signals. He could probably get her into bed by this evening with little effort.

He stared at her, saying nothing more.

"Well, I guess I'd better be going. Sorry again," she said.

With that, she was moving around him. She watched his face as she passed him, offering him one last chance.

And then she was gone, fifty feet away and receding, as Andy stood, staring and thinking.

He pulled his bag along behind him on his way to the long term parking, not at all wondering why he'd passed up such an easy opportunity and instead thinking again about Taylor.

* * *

Now

Taylor eased down the steep steps of the train, one foot at a time, leaning back to keep her center of gravity carefully over her feet. She clung to the side rail, smiling meekly at the conductor as he tried to help, to stay out of the way, to be ready to catch her, and not to cause her to fall, all at once. She kept her other hand on her round, swollen belly, a now common and almost unconscious habit, as if she were somehow shielding the baby by doing so.

She smiled weakly at the conductor for his help, then again at the gentleman who carried her heavy suitcase down behind her.

"Thank you so much."

She hated being helped. Everyone was so kind to a very pregnant woman, and it did make her feel better about the state of the human race, but at the same time she was so used to being independent. It rubbed her the wrong way to accept help from anyone, let alone to need it.

"Do you need help getting somewhere? A cab? Can I carry it further?" the other passenger asked.

"No, Thank you. You're all very kind. My brother should be here to meet me."

Except he's almost certainly late, and will leave me sitting here for at least thirty minutes, without fail. Andy could be counted on to fuck up even just meeting her at the platform.

"Taylor. Taylor."

She turned, and there he was.

She had to smile at him. His damned smile was so bright, it always made her smile back. The older he got, the better that smile got.

"You're here."

"Of course I'm here. I told you I would be. 3:32 PM, on the button."

She gave him a sly look. He probably had a bet with someone, Brian maybe, that he would be on time. He needn't have bothered. She would have lied for him and told them he was on time, even if he weren't.

Taylor looked out at the blue sky beyond the platform. It was one of those crystal clear May days, when it's not too warm and not too cool, after a long winter of freezing cold and snow followed by a series of gloomy, rainy days that weren't as cold as winter, but might as well be.

This was the weather she and Andy had always lived for as kids. This was kite flying weather, and street ball weather, and roll down a grass hillside weather.

Andy had her bag, ready to move, but hesitating.

"Do you need help? Do you need to hold my arm?"

"Andy. I'm pregnant, not paraplegic."

He smiled broadly at her again, and with that smile everything in the entire world just seemed wonderful, making her wonder how or why she'd ever felt sad for a single moment in her life. She looped her hand through his arm, momentarily leaned on his shoulder, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He obediently bent down to help her reach him without much effort at all, which was good because even standing on tip toes was a challenging feat these days.

"But I will take your arm, just because I want to."

With that they walked away down the long platform towards the exit and his car.

* * *

They hadn't gone far when Taylor's phone went off. Andy watched patiently as she hunted for it in her hand bag, pulled it out, glanced at the display, then rolled her eyes for show as her expression soured.

"It's Mom."

Andy gave her a closed-mouth smile. He also propped Taylor's luggage up to stand on it's own, since there was no way this wasn't going to take longer than it should.

"Hi, Mom."

Andy watched Taylor's expressions change in the bright sunlight as she spoke.

"No, yes, he was here. Yes, on time. Yeah, it was Andy. No, for real. Okay. Yes. Yes. Mom. Mom, please. Yes. Yes. Mom! Okay, okay, hang on."

Taylor frowned as she flipped her wrist forward dramatically, offering him the phone.

"It's for you."

She covered the mouth piece briefly before continuing.

"It seems she doesn't entirely trust her little slut of a daughter."

Andy looked at the phone as if it were coated with the plague. Overcoming his revulsion, he smiled conspiratorially at Taylor as he took it.

"Hi, Mom."

"Andy? I told her you'd be there, right on time."

"Of course, Mom."

"That was sarcasm, Dear."

"Of course, Mom."

"Do you have a room all set up for her?"

Taylor stood staring at him with smiling, laughing eyes, enjoying the fact that he had to deal instead of her.

"I told you I would."

"Yes, so you said, but did you actually do it? She can't do it herself, in her condition."

"She's not crippled, Mom, just pregnant."

Taylor rolled her eyes at that.

"You have no idea, Andy. Until you've carried four little babies around in your belly for nine months, you have no idea."

He covered the mouthpiece himself.

"She's playing the you-made-me-fat-for-nine-months routine."

"And she's going to have to eat right, Andy. You can't feed her fast food for the next three months."

"Mom, please. I'll take care of her."

"I know you will, Hun. Better than she takes care of herself."

"She's done a good job until now, Mom."

Taylor shook her head, obviously guessing at what was likely being said on the other end. Her smile drifted quickly from amusement to mild annoyance at this point. She turned to look around the station, where there was pretty much nothing to see, but it was better than watching Mom annoy him and, tangentially, her.

"Yes. Until now," their mom continued. "The father should be dong this for her. Of course, when one doesn't even know who the father is..."

"Mom, we're out on the train platform, and Taylor is getting cold in the wind."

The air was completely still. It was a perfectly comfortable 70 degrees here today. Andy grinned at Taylor at the audacity of that white lie.

"Well, what are you doing with her out in a cold wind?"

"I'll get her inside. We're almost there. We just stopped to answer the phone."

"You can't walk and talk at the same time?"

"Actually, with the luggage and the baby, it's kind of hard."

The baby. Andy looked at her extended belly and thought about what that really meant. A baby. The baby. It had shocked him, actually seeing her shape as he'd walked up. It was sort of a real, almost tangible slap. There was a living, growing baby in there.

"Well, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure she arrived okay."

"It's alright, Mom. I'll take care of her."

"You need to, Andy. She can't take care of herself."

Andy stifled his anger at that. Mom just loved crossing the line. Of all of them, Taylor had done the best with her life so far, short of this misstep that Andy himself could have made a hundred times over. Taylor was usually what Andy tried to be, even though he was four years older. He looked up to his little sister, in a strange way. He couldn't be like her, but he tried sometimes, and he admired what she was, what she had made herself into.

"Okay, Mom. We're going now. Love you."

"I love you, too, Dear. And tell Taylor I'm thinking of her."

"Okay, Mom. Bye."

"Bye."

Andy looked Taylor in the eye as he handed her the phone.

"You unconscionable Jezebel, you."

"Actually, Jezebel was never a prostitute or even particularly promiscuous. She was a princess, and a powerfully influential one, who was killed because of that power and influence."

"Always the professor, even on sabbatical. Okay, thanks for the lesson. Should we get in out of the cold?"

Taylor smiled at him. She really glowed when she smiled, even more so now than ever before. He could stare at her all day when she did. He hadn't expected it, but she'd never looked more beautiful to him than she did now.

She looked around at the clear, blue sky.

"Yes, we don't want to make a total liar out of you. Again."

She looped her arm through his and they continued on their way together with Andy pulling the heavy luggage along behind.

* * *

Way Back When

Andy's nature was already obvious when Taylor was a freshman in high school and she was finally wise enough in the ways of the world to recognize it for what it was. She worried about him then, a lot, sometimes as if she were his second mother. It probably made her love him that much more. It certainly made her want to protect him from himself. It also made her just a little jealous that he could get away with the things that she could never bring herself to try.

She didn't have to actually ask, but she played dumb anyway, because she knew she shouldn't say anything at all. He'd get pissed at her for sure.

"Andy. Is that whiskey?"

"Sh. You don't have to let the world hear you."

Taylor bit her lip. Andy was going out to meet his buddies in just fifteen minutes.

"Are you drunk?"

"Sh. Will you keep it down? No, I'm not drunk."

Yes, he was, Taylor thought. Maybe not falling down drunk, but he was more than buzzed. There was no way he should be driving now, she was pretty sure. She didn't want to take any chances. 

It wasn't like she was an expert. She didn't hang out with that crowd at school, and she was pretty much excluded from even knowing about their parties until after the fact. She was too much of a goodie two shoes. They didn't trust her.

She could see that he could see what she was thinking. His expression immediately narrowed to an annoyed glare.

"I'm fine Taylor."

"No, you're not."

The bottle was almost empty. He couldn't possibly have had the whole thing, could he? Was it full when he started? Could anyone drink that much? She had no idea. She hoped not. She wondered if it was Dad's.

"How would you know? Have you ever even had a sip?"

"Andy, I can see with my own two eyes. And hear it. You're almost slurring your speech."

"I am not."

She tried being authoritative but it just didn't work, either for her or with him. Andy had never responded to authority, and she was the furthest thing from one. The baby in the family had little influence on everyone else. She tried just letting him see that she cared.

"I don't want you to drive. Just call a friend to pick you up."

As if to prove her wrong, he immediately got up, looking around for a moment before finding his keys right there in front of him on the coffee table.

"Don't go, Andy."

"You can't stop me."

"I'll tell Dad."

Andy's annoyance turned to quick anger. She bit her lip. She didn't even think before she'd said it, so now she panicked.

"Oh? Is Tattle Taylor back?"

She glared at him. She despised that nickname, and always had, and he knew it. When she was younger he had relentlessly tormented her with it. It eventually had angered her so much that she punched him hard in the stomach, right in front of his friends, and since then he'd mostly stopped using it. She hadn't heard it more than a few times a year since she'd entered high school, in fact.

She chewed her right lower lip. She absolutely hated, more than anything, having Andy angry with her. She never felt more alone in the universe than when he was angry at her. Even when she had a steady boyfriend, which wasn't very often or for very long, she felt alone unless she was with Andy. But when he was angry with her, then even when she was with him she felt alone and abandoned. It hurt.

She weighed her options. She warred with herself. She didn't want him angry. She also didn't ever want to see him get seriously hurt, or worse than just seriously hurt, knowing that she could and should have stopped him.

"Dad!"

"Fuck, Taylor, no."

She tried again, a little more loudly.

"Dad!"

"Okay, look, you win. I'll call Nick."

"What?" their father yelled down from upstairs, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Mom was out, which meant that just now was the little bit of piece and quiet he could get.

"Never mind!"

Andy hissed at her.

"Tattle Taylor."

She grimaced, taking the name in stride. It was the price she'd accepted. He was really pissed. But that would pass, and was a very small price to pay. She didn't ever want to lose Andy, ever. His anger would pass. A horrible accident might be something she had to live with forever. Taylor was way too careful to risk that sort of mistake.

* * *

Then

"Shit. What are you going to do?"

Taylor looked sidelong at Andy, then quickly back out the kitchen window. She fought back tears, as much from stress as actual sorrow. She hadn't been sure how he'd react, or even if she should have told him. It wasn't like he could help. He wasn't even likely to try. That wasn't his style in this sort of situation, or most situations. He'd turn tail and run, ducking for cover to avoid becoming collateral damage himself.

"Fuck, I don't know. What can I do? First I have to tell Mom."

Andy's head snapped around at that. She could feel his eyes boring into hers, even though she couldn't meet them head on. There was no way she could look at him now. In her shame, she felt like she could never look at him again. Instead she stared at a dead bug lying on the window sill, its legs all bent and frozen like some miniature, chitinous claw.

"Tell Mom? Tell her what exactly?"

Taylor did glare at him briefly, instantly angry, before again looking away. She started to speak but her voice faltered. She took a moment to swallow. Her throat felt constricted, as if she were being strangled. With an effort she composed herself before trying again. The words finally came out with a weak but embarrassing tremor. She hated herself for that, among other things.

"What can I tell her? I got drunk. I got stupid. I got knocked up."

She paused, giving him a chance to interject. When he didn't say a word, she continued.

"And I don't even know who the father is."

As she finished that sentence she looked sidelong at him to gauge his reaction. He stared back at her, completely impassive. She was a mess, while he showed no emotion whatsoever. None. Fucking none.

"Taylor... what about an abortion?"

"No!"

She knew he'd suggest that, and she'd imagined slapping him when he did. He had no right. She had no right. She'd certainly considered it over and over again, dismissing the idea but always going back to it. Of course he was going to suggest it. It wasn't his fault that he had.

But it still angered her, especially that he said it so easily and so soon, and without any real thought.

"Sis..."

"No! I'm not that selfish. I'd never do that. Ever."

"But in this case..."

"No! Is that what you'd do? Would you? Kill your baby? Your own baby?"

"No. I... No, I guess I wouldn't. I mean I certainly wouldn't. I didn't think about it like that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Look, it's not your problem."

She ached for him to disagree with her, to step in and say it was his problem. He was her big brother, and the one brother that she truly trusted. She needed him to stop being the same old Andy for a while and to be something more for her.

She felt so lonely right now. She needed help, and she didn't know where else to turn, but she couldn't come out and ask. She needed him to just sense it, and to be there for her.

She knew that was never going to happen, even if he tried to, at first. He'd fuck it all up before long and make things worse. That's what Andy did.

"How can I help?"

"You can't."

She said it, knowing it was a total lie. There were a million ways he could help, and she wanted and needed him to tell her how. Her heart cried out for her to open up and let him help, while another angry and rational part of her said no, keep him out of it. He'll only make things worse in the long run.

She kept doing that, she thought. She kept thinking three things at once, all in conflict with each other, and getting angry at the universe that they couldn't all be true. She just couldn't seem to get a handle on anything. Being home now didn't help, either. It made her feel like an outsider with this horrible, awful secret that no one could ever know, and yet she had to confess to.

That was a miserable feeling, watching everyone else be merry and happy for the holidays while her life was crumbling, and if and when they all knew the truth she'd feel like even worse shit than she did now. 

"Please?"

Her heart leapt when he said that. It was what she wanted, for him to beg to help her and then when she still refused to force his way in. But her head told her to keep him completely out of it, no matter what.


Just Jump



"Look, just... just stay out of the way, for now, okay? It's my problem."

"It shouldn't be. It doesn't have to be."

"It is, and yes it does. It is what it is. I'll deal."

Taylor left then, turning quickly and flying out as the tears started to seep and then flood her eyes. She certainly didn't want Andy to see that. She wondered if she should even have told him. She'd thought about it for days now, ever since the first test was positive, and then three more after that.

As soon as she got around the corner, she stopped to lean back against the wall and compose herself. She waited. She kept waiting. Damn it, why hadn't he followed her? He just let her run off like that, feeling like a pathetic mess. She needed him to hold her, she needed anyone to hold her, and he just let her leave.

Fuck.

She heard Mom and Dad bickering in the next room. They kept it to a simmering boil, like they always did at first, as if no one knew that they fought and if they kept their voices down they might work it out and be able to be happy for fifteen consecutive minutes. On top of everything else, she couldn't listen to that. It made her want to burst into tears. She told herself that sort of reaction was just her hormones going crazy while growing a new person inside of her, but she knew that wasn't true. She had a more than few really good reasons to want to cry.

Taylor started to go to the attic, to be safely and completely alone, then stopped short. That was the last place she wanted to be, in that fucking attic, sitting in that old musty chair up there amidst the piles of old framed paintings and childhood toys and clothes, knowing that her older siblings were in the floors beneath her, laughing and enjoying the easy wonder of the Christmas holiday. Then again, maybe the attic was where she belonged. It was her proper prison of shame.

She headed to the front door to just go out before realizing she couldn't get her coat without being seen. She was trapped here with her misery and her fucking family. This was her prison and her punishment wrapped up into one, neat, Christmas package.

She was all alone, surrounded by her loved ones.

* * *

The family was downstairs gathered around the tree, waiting while Andy rummaged through his luggage in his room. He had a stupid little decision to make that he'd been putting off for a month now, and it was time to choose. 

They'd just returned from midnight mass, where Mom and Dad sang at the top of their lungs while everyone else pretended to sing. From the smile on Mom's face Taylor clearly hadn't told her yet. He wondered when she would, or if he should try to be there.

It wasn't like he could say anything, but his presence would at least keep a lid on their mother's reaction. He really had no idea how she'd respond. Taylor had been the perfect daughter until now. She'd been so perfect, Andy was sure that she could commit murder and Mom would just say "That's okay, dear, you did what you had to do." It was like Taylor couldn't make a mistake.

But if there was one thing that was sure to change all that, this was it.

He looked at the two presents, one wrapped in luxurious, shiny blue and silver paper with a shiny silver ribbon and bow, and the other wrapped in an ordinary green and red, commercial, drugstore, Christmassy-patterned paper, with a 39-cent green stick-on bow. He'd always intended to give her the first, but he'd never been sure if he'd have the nerve to do it in front of everyone. It would have been funny, but his jokes never seemed to go over well with his family. He had thought in his heart, before, that Taylor would love it, and understand that it wasn't entirely a joke.

Now it was never going to fly, in front of his family or in private. Knowing what he now knew, he shoved the luxuriously wrapped box to the bottom of his suitcase and covered it with neatly folded shirts so that no one would even notice it and ask about it. He took the other, knowing now that it wasn't nearly enough. He'd been counting to much on finding the courage to give her the other one. He felt like a jerk.

He looked around his old room. Mom had cleaned out almost all of his stuff. She'd left just one of his soccer trophies there, the one from fourth grade, the only remnant of a zillion toys and posters and other things that he'd gathered in the course of growing up. But it seemed like the moment he'd left for college, Mom had cleaned this place out, as if she had to get it ready for a new boarder, and that was all that he had been.

Taylor's room was different. To this day it was untouched. He'd asked Mom about it once, and she'd dismissed it. She simply didn't have the time or energy to put her stuff away by the time Taylor had moved on, she'd said. Andy knew better. In her heart, she'd hoped that her perfect little girl would come back to stay.

That was going to change now, he was sure.

And yet this room, right now, this way, wasn't all that different from his own apartment. He barely had any pictures on the walls. He was never really settled in there, or anywhere. He was always ready to move on, to find the next adventure or the next phase in his life. He could never deal with the permanence of what Taylor had to deal with now.

How the hell had she, of all people, let this happen?

He shook his head, grabbed the inadequate present, and left the empty room.

* * *

Now

They pulled up in front of a medium sized, white, new colonial home. It had dark gray shutters, a small but well landscaped lawn with a few trees and shrubs, and a two car garage. The door was red, with a beautiful glass pane in the center.

Taylor was stunned.

"It's beautiful, Andy. It's perfect."

She had been expecting a dump, or at least something old that needed work. She knew she'd had no right, but until now had wished that Andy had let her help to pick out what they bought. It was his house, but she would help with the payments eventually, when she went back to work. She was going to be living there for quite a long while, it seemed. He was going to provide a home for his pregnant, unwed sister and then after the birth for her new child as well.

Certainly, a pregnant sister and her brother buying a house to share was weird. Explaining the situation to the neighbors was going to be hell. They'd probably all talk about what a great guy Andy was, and how irresponsible his sister was. In the end it was best this way, but Taylor was nervous. She was less nervous now, though, after seeing how beautiful it was.

"It's so big. Can we afford it?"

"I'm sure I can get you that job at the university. It will only be an assistant professorship at first, but I know they'll love you. And I've got tenure now. And houses are cheaper out here. That's another advantage of not having a stupid office job that requires living in range of a big city, and then commuting back and forth."

"Yeah, you should tell that to Brian. He makes more than you, but his expenses are huge. He works like a dog to afford his house. And cars. And vacations..."

"Hang on. Wait here."

Andy got out to walk around to her side of the car, to open the door for her and help her out. As he did she looked at the shiny new interior of the golden brown mid-sized sedan. This was so not an Andy car. It was practical for what they were going to need, but it wasn't him. She almost cried when she saw that he'd sold his beloved, black, sport coupe. He loved that car. And it had fit him. This wasn't an Andy car.

He arrived at her door and opened it. She really didn't need help, but she appreciated it from him, and she liked having the innocuous chance to touch him. He held her hand as she swung her legs out, arranged herself on the seat, then pushed and pulled herself up in a teetering, wobbling way. She finally steadied herself on her feet, partly by leaning on him.

She smiled at him, and he grinned back.

"Everything is an adventure. The fun never ends," she told him.

"Come on. I can't wait for you to see inside."

He guided her to the door, and into the house, where Taylor looked around in wonder. She couldn't believe this. If you'd told her last Christmas that she would wind up this happy, she would never have guessed. She rested her hands on her belly, feeling the baby kick.

"Yeah, Baby. Mommy likes it, too. Uncle Andy is being so good to us."

* * *

Way Back When

By the time Taylor graduated from high school, Andy had also just graduated from college. Each of them had matured without really changing their true nature. Each had started to experiment, just a bit, with being the opposite of who they thought they were, in Andy's case being told that he should now settle down and be responsible about starting a career, and in Taylor's case feeling like it was time to stop being a prissy little girl.

"He's cute. Really cute."

Andy glared back at her wide eyed, too eager expression. Marc was asleep upstairs in Brian's old room. He'd stayed up as late as he could talking with Andy about their plans after graduation, while Taylor just sat, shyly quiet, and listened to them both. But Marc couldn't stay up the way Andy and Taylor always did and had. Eventually, he faded and went to bed, leaving them alone.

"I don't need to hear that, Taylor."

"What? Older guys are hot and he's cute."

He was tall and dark and the girls always went crazy over him. It pissed Andy off sometimes. He got his own share of tail, but it always seemed like he got second choice when Marc was around.

He sipped his late night decaf special before he continued.

"He's my friend."

"Andy, I'm not a little girl any more."

"Oh, yeah, wow, you just finished high school. A real woman of the world, now."

Andy rolled his eyes when Taylor put on her little pout. She'd been doing that for too long. A incoming freshman in college should quickly outgrow that particular bit of posturing, he thought.

"You're just jealous," she said.

"Of what?"

Fuck. He was jealous, but how could she know that?

"Because you can't get a girl as hot as me."

"You're not hot, Taylor."

He looked away to hide the fact that he was lying. The fact was, it killed him how hot he thought she was, especially when she wasn't trying. Other guys didn't always agree, mostly because she tricked them away from it by purposely trying to look plain. She wasn't gorgeous to most guys. But to him, yes, she was hot.

"Sure I am."

"No, you're not. You're cute, but not hot. Marc won't go for you. He likes a girl with a lot more sex appeal. More pizzazz. Short skirts and fuck me pumps. Just leave him be. He's my guest. Our guest."

"I bet he will."

Andy grimaced. He'd talk to Marc in the morning and make sure he knew that his sister was way, way out of bounds. Marc probably assumed so already but Andy could tell he had already been checking her out. The Marc he knew as more than ready to ignore the fact that he shouldn't touch her. He knew how Marc's mind worked. He'd need a bit of a threat to keep him in line, especially if Taylor made it too tempting and too easy for him.

"Go ahead and try. This I have to see," he told her.

"Are you going with Dad to pick up the truck tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Leave him here with me. We'll see what happens."

"Taylor! He just got here. Give the guy a break."

"Leave us alone for a few hours, and we'll see. I dare you."

Taylor spun and went out of the room and up to bed. When the hell did little Tattle Taylor get that bold and confident?

* * *

Andy finally pulled back up to the house in the truck, anxious to find Marc without appearing to do so. He took his time after he got out, looking the truck over for no good reason. While he did, Taylor came out to meet him. That put him on edge. If she was coming out to gloat about banging Marc he'd kill them both.

"How'd it go?"

"I struck out."

Andy turned away to walk around to the other side of the truck, to hide his relief.

"Told you so."

"You probably told him you'd beat the shit out of him if he touched me."

"No, I decided you could fuck him if you want."

"Don't be so vulgar."

"Oh. Make love. You could 'make love' to him. Whatever."

"Don't be an ass. I just wanted to flirt. But I struck out. He pretty much told me to get lost."

Andy realized that she sounded hurt. He turned to look at her. She had an odd expression on her face. Suddenly he felt sorry for her and without even thinking he pulled her into a hug, even as he wondered why he was doing it.

* * *

As he hugged her, Taylor melted. She didn't want to hurt him, ever. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the strong, enveloping warmth of his arms.

In moments she felt herself getting warm. Andy offered her something that was sorely lacking in her life, something she never even recognized she needed until and unless he was around.

At the same time, her body was going crazy these days, cycling between PMS and intense sexuality. Right now, while she was ovulating, she could feel herself getting horny if she looked at anything remotely phallic. She had no self control. Even hugging her brother now, her own brother, was making inspiring desires in her.

She couldn't stand it. She hugged Andy back tightly, embarrassed by the feel of her nipples hardening, while both hoping that he felt it, too, and yet being afraid that he might actually notice.

She never really wanted Marc, or to hurt Andy, but she couldn't have what she really wanted and had been thinking about way too much since he came home for the summer. She knew it was wrong, really wrong, and that he was so far out of reach for her anyway. The way she felt right now, with her body humming and seeming to develop a mind of its own, she told herself that she just wanted anyone. It was nothing special about Andy. She wasn't twisted that way. She just didn't seem to have any control at all over her own desires.

It would pass. She couldn't live her whole life this way, with thoughts and urges like hers. No one did. Did they?

* * *

Then

"Taylor! There's a guy wandering the halls, looking for your office."

She didn't look up as she tried to finish another exam booklet, just one small step in wading through the rest of the huge, annoying stack.

"Well, why didn't you tell him where it is?"

"He's got flowers, and candy!"

She looked up now, frozen in mid red-pen stroke.

"Oh, shit. No."

"He looks youngish, too. I figured I better check with you, first."

She leaned back in her chair, her grading chore at least temporarily forgotten. It was easily the worst part of teaching, and something she had to fight every time to make herself do.

"Oh, no. Not a grad student."

"Not that young. And he's really cute."

So not a student or a grad student, but young looking. Then who? She looked around her cramped office, with shelves stacked with books and barely enough room between them for her chair, her desk, and one chair on the opposite side. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

"I don't care if he's cute. Shit. Can't they even tell that I'm pregnant?"

"Maybe he likes it. It's a turn on for..."

"That's enough. Look, close my door."

"Shit. There he is, at the end of the hall."

"Well, close the door and go."

"Too late. He sees me."

Jennifer turned to look down the hall and beam a smile and a miniature, hesitant wave at whoever was approaching. Taylor would have liked to think the smile was fake, but it looked inviting to her. Jennifer obviously did think the guy was cute.

As his shadow fell across the hall outside, Taylor bowed her head down, looking for something on her desk that required her undivided attention. Maybe he'd get the hint by how focused she could remain on her work. Maybe she wouldn't even make eye contact with the guy.

"Hi, Sis."

Taylor snapped her head up. Jennifer looked back and forth between the two of them with eyes wide in surprise. Taylor was sure those eyes were mirrors of her own, as they widened at the image of Andy, right here, unexpectedly standing in the door to her office.

"Andy. Andy!"

She almost knocked her chair over trying to stand up.

"I thought I saw a resemblance. This is your brother?"

"Yes. Yes. Andy, this is Jennifer."

Jennifer gave him a predatory smile now, one that caused an unsettlingly protective anger in Taylor.

"Hi. Pleased to meet you."

Andy reached out to touch her hand in a polite male-female sort of hand shake, but quickly turned his eyes back to look at Taylor.

"Happy Valentines Day, Sis."

He held out a large bouquet of red roses along with the archetypal red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Taylor beamed at him in a self conscious way, wishing that Jennifer would get lost. She silently took the flowers. She stared at Andy, and looked askance at Jennifer. Andy looked at her and only at her. Eventually, Jennifer got the hint.

"Well. I'll be going. I guess you two want to get caught up."

"It was nice meeting you."

"You, too, Andy. I hope to see you around."

Taylor was sure she did, and she'd make sure she wouldn't. She didn't need Andy's sort, and Andy didn't need a one night stand with her best friend in the university.

"By Jen. I'll see you tomorrow."

As Jennifer left, Taylor pulled the flowers up to her nose and inhaled deeply, with her eyes closed. They smelled wonderful, a touch of spring in the middle of a cold and very trying winter. She handed them back to him, but took the candy as she walked back to her desk. She put the box down there, then turned to face him while leaning back onto the desktop. It was getting harder and harder to stand for any length of time and she didn't even feel all that much bigger yet. She got out of breath quickly, too, even just standing, if she hadn't eaten recently enough.

She leaned on her desk and stared at her big brother. What the hell was he doing here?

* * *

It felt so good to see her again. He'd been feeling odd about doing this. All the way here, from the moment he'd bought the plane ticket to the flight to the cab ride here, he'd been interrogating himself about his motives and what he expected. This was silly, he thought. He was being silly. It all felt wrong, and awkward, and foolish.

But now that he was here, it felt good.

And looked her up and down. She was showing. She was dressed in that stolid, professorial fashion she'd adopted, but she glowed. He had never known what people meant when they said that about pregnant women. She stood there with a rather dour what-are-you-doing-here expression on her face, and yet she still glowed.

Andy looked at her hair again, appraising it anew. It had grown back a little, but it was still short. More than that, it was noticeably wavy now, almost curly. He liked it. He couldn't decide if he liked it better. He actually liked her hair long the best. It was how he knew her and pictured her and remembered her. She was Taylor, his little sister Taylor, that way.

But she did look damned sexy with it short. She looked like that innocent tomboy who is just discovering her own intense femininity and unbridled sexuality, and yet hadn't yet been kissed. Or she would look that way, if she weren't starting to show. 

"When did you decide to curl it?"

She reacted defensively.

"I didn't. My body is doing this to me. It has a mind of its own, now. It just decided to start curling my hair. It's doing all sorts of crazy things it never did. Being pregnant is so weird. It's like aliens have taken over my body or something."

"And how's the little alien doing?"

In sharp contrast to that insensitive reference to the baby growing inside her, he let a huge, warm, honest smile creep over his face. Taylor looked at him defensively again, only to soften once she realized how he'd really meant it, not as a cold expression of detachment, but as a term of endearment.




Just Jump



"The little alien is doing just fine," she told him, with her own happy smile.

She quickly grew embarrassed, as if smiling at her brother was very wrong and she might get caught doing it. Her head bent down to shuffle some papers, as she tried to look for something on the desk. She walked around behind it, as if chased away by his smile and unable to face him now.

She was acting strangely around him, so Andy worked to set her more at ease.

"I came to take you to dinner."

She looked him squarely in the eye, as if reading him, or considering whether or not she'd accept his offer.

"Come on," he told her, "I'm not giving you a choice. Unless you already have another date."

He let himself give her a teasing smirk, knowing the she'd take it right. She scowled at him briefly before a small smile betrayed her pleasure at the thought.

"As soon as I can find these other papers I need to grade tomorrow, we can go out somewhere to talk. I've gotten so damned disorganized and flighty since I got pregnant. It's great, being able to blame all of my mistakes on it, but it really is annoying. Oh, okay. Here. Let me put them on top, so I don't have to hunt and search again when I come back. I'm going to have so much to do tonight and tomorrow, now."

Andy watched her prattle on, able to keep his own warm, soft smile in plain view, for her or anyone to see. His sister was such a lovely woman. He didn't know why he'd never really thought of her like that, but she was. He'd seen her as attractive, certainly, and at times in a very inappropriately sexual way for her own brother to consider, but he'd never viewed her so much as a grown woman, and not as actually lovely as he realized she was.

She caught him staring at her. She held his gaze before confronting him with a question.

"Where are you taking me?"

"I thought you might like to go to that French place you always go on about, Rober's."

"Rober's? Oh, I'd love it, but we'd never get in! Especially on Valentine's day. You'd have to make reservations weeks in advance, if not months."

Andy grinned at her, waiting for her to figure it out.

"Really? Really?" she beamed at him, before her expression soured artificially. "But what made you think I wouldn't have already had a Valentine's date? Why didn't you warn me to keep the night open?"

He grinned down at her slightly swollen belly.

"Oh, yeah," she said, smiling and patting it.

She walked over to him. For a moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but instead she just stood there, right in his face, her eyes twinkling. He wanted to kiss her, but instead awkwardly turned to stone before her. At last, after a long moment, she planted a very quick kiss on his cheek, then moved away. He felt a sudden ache as she did, as if he were losing an important part of himself the instant she withdrew.

She moved to the door to grab first her long, woolen scarf off of a peg on the wall, to wrap that twice around her neck, and then to take and put on her coat as well.

"I have to dress so damned warmly this winter. More changes. You coming?"

She stood in her office doorway as she said that, as Andy realized he'd been standing there, staring and admiring her the whole time. He finally moved, wearing a sheepish, self-conscious grin. She stood aside for him, he walked through, and she pushed the door closed and locked it with one key of many.

As soon as she'd tucked her huge key ring into her handbag, he put his arm around her, pulling her close and guiding her toward the exit. He expected her to resist, but she didn't. She slipped neatly into place under his arm, with one of her own resting on his coat, and everything very suddenly felt as if it were exactly as it was supposed to be.

* * *

Way Back When

Andy had dodged responsibility and real life, or so it seemed, by pursuing his doctorate. Taylor was doing the same thing for different reasons by pursuing hers. But while Taylor was at the start of that path, Andy was now done. He was once again faced with leaving school and having to finally, really live a mature, constrained, adult life.

"You're a fool, Andy."

Andy glared at the ground. This was happening too often. Brian was right and Andy was wrong. Brian and Taylor were perfect, and Andy was a fuck up.

"Go to hell, Brian."

Andy tried to storm out of the room, but Brian moved deftly to intercept him. Where Andy was a raging, aimless ocean storm, Brian was a powerful, disciplined, unyielding battleship.

"Why? Because I'm trying to help?"

"Because you're butting in thinking that your way is the only way."

Brian put a hand on his shoulder in an annoyingly fatherly way, which Andy looked down at with scorn.

"Being a professor is a dead end. You've got a great PhD! There's gold in it."

"I like academics. I like teaching. And I'm hoping to do research."

"Andy, you could make a fortune in business with a doctorate in computer science."

"That's not computer science, that's building tinker toys."

Andy didn't understand why this was so hard for Brian to get. There was more to life than money. A lot more.

"Tinker toys that companies pay big money for!"

"I don't want to do it."

"You will when you need to put three kids through college, and want a bigger house."

Andy looked Brian in the eye. Brian just couldn't get the fact that Andy was nothing like him, didn't want to be, and wasn't going to change. None of that occurred to him.

"I don't want those things. Any of them."

Their mother finally moseyed nonchalantly into the room, as if she were going to make a cup of tea for herself. Andy couldn't believe it had taken this long.

"Oh, posh, Andy. You will eventually. Listen to your brother. He's done pretty well."

"Mom, stay out of this."

His mother was clearly taken back. He'd never taken that tone with her before. But damn it, he was a grown man now. He had a fucking doctorate! He'd done a thesis on neural systems, for Christ's sake.

"We're only thinking about you, Andy."

"No, you're thinking about yourselves, or about me as if I were you. I'm not like you."

"No one is saying you are, Andy, or that you have to be."

"Sounds like it to me."

"Look, trust me. You're just afraid to leave the college world. Maybe grad school was a bad move for you. I'm actually shocked that you stuck with it."

Andy glared at him. This was the same old shit, every time. He had no idea why he came home anymore, ever. They acted like he was still in high school and would never do anything right or grow beyond that.

He was done with them. They were never going to understand. The only one who seemed to get him was Taylor, and she was off working on her own PhD. In languages! Italian and French and who knew what. Why didn't they get on her case to get a more useful and profitable education?

Because she was Taylor, the perfect little girl, and because she was a woman. Mom never expected her to use her degree, anyway. What she wanted from Taylor was grandchildren. Her doctorate was just a way to attract an educated, well-off husband.

Andy smiled to himself, behind his sneer. In a few years poor Taylor was going to have the exact opposite of the problem that he did, as they pushed her to quit work and find a man. But at least they respected her. They'd be more polite and indirect about their manipulation. To them, Andy was always the fuck up who needed not just guidance, but a bridle and reins, or a leash.

He stormed out, wishing he had never come home to visit, and swearing that he never would again.

* * *

He was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to compose himself when he heard someone enter. He didn't open his eyes, hoping they'd take the hint and leave him alone, when Taylor's arms snaked up around his neck and she hugged him. He stood stone still, feeling her holding him close, with her breath warm and moist on his neck, until finally his own arms moved up to hold her to him in return.

"I'm on your side, Andy."

She said it, then she dropped away. She looked into his eyes with hers wide and innocent. Of all the people in the world, she got it. She understood what he wanted, and she understood him. He thought he could live his life five times over and never find someone who got him the way she did.

"Thanks."

She smiled, and inside he brightened. He had to smile back. He couldn't wait for her to leave so he could go back to being angry, but at the same time he never wanted her to leave at all.

She kissed his cheek, spun on her heel and turned and left. Andy felt too lonely when the room was empty again. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture his anger, but found that it had left the room as well.

* * *

Now

Taylor looked around the room, happy to just lie on the bed and take the weight off of her feet. Carrying this "alien" around, as she and Andy now playfully called it, was getting hard. She didn't mind it. She loved it. But she wished there was a way to take a short vacation from the challenges it brought.

The room was rather spartan, very typical of Andy. She noticed with a wry smile that he had at least bothered to hang two paintings that he'd taken from Mom's attic, including the dumb one with the couple in the boat with the swans. She smiled at that.

He had a couple of spy novels on his nightstand. She reached over to look at the one he seemed to be reading now. He was a terror with books. By the time he finished one, it looked like he'd used it to clean his house, rather than to read.

As she picked it up she saw his cell phone lying there behind it. She looked at the bathroom, listening to the water run. He'd only just started. Andy languished in showers as if they were expensive spa treatments. His water bill must be ginormous.

She looked at the phone, then thought what the fuck.

"Why aren't you texting back? Miss you. I'll be in town. Looking for some fun this weekend."

That was from some girl named Jennifer.

"Hey. Thinking about that Halloween party. Still got your barbarian costume? Call."

That was Kristen.

There were a lot like that. Taylor flipped around, looking for Andy's replies, or other sent messages, and there were very few. What few she found were either to her or their mom or for work or to his buddies, mostly about sports. She looked at more of his inbox. There were more mundane things, plus some more seemingly unanswered pleas from women.

He'd obviously deleted a bunch. He must have deleted his replies as well as anything too juicy, too. But why leave the others? Unless he knew she'd snoop, and wanted her to see them.

She looked at the bathroom door, then immediately felt bad. She was actually feeling jealous and angry at him for hiding things from her, and having women who chased him. She felt jealous. Here he'd been nice enough to invite her in. He'd been as nice as holy hell for months now. He'd never been nicer to her in his life. He'd sold his damned, darling sports car for her.

She repaid him by first snooping through his phone, and then getting angry at him for what she'd found as well as for what she'd failed to find. She put the phone back exactly as she'd found it while she thought about whether she should confess to him that she'd peeked. She should, she knew. It would come back to bite her eventually.

She'd been in his house for all of an hour and already snooped. She never did things like that, ever. She didn't know what was wrong with her.

Maybe it was the pregnancy. She wanted to blame a lot of things on the pregnancy, and hormones, and this little kicking alien that was taking over her body and her mind.

She wanted to, but in the end she knew that it was her, and it was him, and it was them. She just loved her big brother too fucking much, so the boundaries fell away and she made mistakes. Little Miss Perfect made a ton of big mistakes when it came to Andy.

* * *

After exiting and letting Taylor by, fussing over whether she'd manage on her own, then quickly getting dressed, Andy slipped back into the bathroom. One of the things he liked about this place when he bought it was the textured-glass sliding-door on the shower, in place of a curtain. She hadn't heard him enter.

He felt a little bad about peeping, but he couldn't resist.

He leaned against the tiled wall, watching her move her hands over her body. Her outline wasn't as clear through the glass as he would have liked, but the show was still marvelous, maybe even more so through the fog of the mosaic and the steam condensing on the glass. The round balloon of her belly stood out prominently in silhouetted profile, with the smaller balloon of her nearest breast resting on top.

Andy found himself feeling strangely aroused, and as such even more guilty at his spying. He was just curious, at first. He wanted to see how pregnancy had changed her, and how she managed. Now he felt he should go. He started to move to slip out when she seemed to notice him through the fogged glass.

"Andy, is that you?"

Andy froze, as did she, but she soon moved to slide the panel back to be able to see him more clearly. She peered around the edge, with water dripping down her face and into her eyes. A quick brush of the hand wiped it away, so her eyes could open wide to look at him.

"Do you need something?"

"No."

"Do you mind?"

She scowled at him. He started to say he was sorry, then realized he'd have a hard time explaining himself no matter what. He really didn't even know why he'd done it. He just did. 

As he thought this, he didn't know what she read in his face, but she suddenly softened.

"It's okay. You can stay."

He knew his shock must have shown clearly, even as he fought to contain it. He wanted to seem cool and composed. He also really, really wanted to leave now. Since she had asked him to stay it felt particularly awkward and wrong, very, very wrong.

She slid the door further open, so it was no longer just a crack to peek around. She didn't open it all the way, to keep too much water from spraying out onto the floor, but he could clearly see her ass and back glistening with water. She'd instantly returned to her shower as if he weren't even there, first ducking her head in the stream of water to soak it, then turning around to lean backwards into the shooting, cascading blast.

When she did so, Andy felt his whole body come to life. Every nerve fiber tingled as the blood rushed to his groin. He looked at her naked breasts now, swollen larger than he remembered them, with a full, round shape, and wide, round, red-brown nipples. They sat atop a belly that looked wonderful, with a wide, smooth sheen, glistening with the fall of water cascading over it.

His cock got hard. It happened so fast he didn't even have time to try to look away, or to think of something inane to tame it. He watched his lovely sister shower, his lovely, pregnant sister, seeing every inch of flesh she had covered in slick soap and shining water, as her body rubbed and massaged every inch of feminine skin. He watched her balance one foot part way up on the shower wall, toe daintily pointed, calve taut, so she could soap her thigh, calf and foot.

When she did the other, her pussy was exposed. She kept it clean shaven, so the water ran down it as if she were still a young girl, an illusion betrayed by the baby growing in the womb right above it.

Andy stared while Taylor very pointedly didn't look his way at all, yet certainly knew exactly what she was doing, what she was showing, and what Andy was seeing. She lathered her body, turned, bent, and postured. She rubbed soap all over that beautiful, wide belly, with a baby, a beautiful, miniature copy of herself, growing inside of her. She turned to let the shower rinse the soap away, then turned again to let it do the same to her hair and back and shoulders, leaning back into the water with her swollen belly thrust forward.

He stared at that belly, thinking of what was going on inside of her, and the amazing things that her body was doing, creating a life, even as he stood here, mutely and impotently watching. He stared until he realized with a start that he had been staring at her belly while she was staring at him. He forced his eyes up to meet hers. Her expression was bland, neither recriminating nor amused.

She reached back to turn off the water, then turned back to him to finally smile at him.

"Hand me a towel?"

"Huh? Sure."

Stupid, he thought. Of course she wants a towel. She must think he's an idiot by now. 

He handed it to her. She took it, quickly drying her face, then keeping her eyes and smile on him as she dried her hair and her body, before stepping out onto the floor.

"I should get out, to give you some room."

"Okay. Whatever you want, Big Brother."

He sheepishly retreated, trying not to look back as he left. He started to close the door when she interrupted him.

"Leave that open. To let the steam out."

"Okay."

That was all he could get out. He pushed the door open, then walked self-consciously back into the bedroom, where he lay back on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, to close his eyes and to think, with the image of her beautiful body, glistening with water, seared into his brain.

* * *

Andy had a long time to think. She had spent an interminable age drying her hair, putting on makeup, and doing all of the other arcane and inexplicable things that took women hours in front of a mirror after a shower. He watched her come out, almost disappointed that she had the towel wrapped around her body, except that it was one of the sexiest thing's he'd every seen. With her swollen belly and breasts, the towel barely reached low enough to completely cover her pussy and ass.

She looked him straight in the eyes with a comfortable smile on her face, and held them with hers as she crossed the room to her suitcase.

"I can't wait until my other stuff arrives. I hate living out of a suitcase."

She finally broke their interlocked gaze. Andy sat up on the bed, watching his sister rummage through her clothing, looking for whatever she wanted.

"I should take the time to hang your things up, at least," he offered.

"After dinner. I'm famished."

Andy watched as Taylor stood, looking right at the painting. He knew she would notice. She stared at it for a long while. When she turned to face him she had a predatory smile on her face, the sort of confident, teasing leer that made one feel like they were at a disadvantage, whether they knew it or not.

She walked towards him with a surprisingly smooth glide, considering the difficulty her shifted, increased weight presented.

"You should know that that particular painting makes me dangerously horny."

That, too, caught Andy unawares. It shouldn't have. He certainly wanted her to say it, or at least to think it. Maybe not exactly that. He didn't give two shits about the painting, at least not that way. It actually was particularly important to him, but not as a seduction tool.

She came to him. He stayed there, frozen on the bed, trying to look and act cool and controlled, while his throat constricted and his heart raced. What was he, fourteen?

But fuck, she was sexy when she wanted to be.

She kept that damned, rapacious smile on her face, with those huge, wide, searching eyes darting back and forth between his, trying to read his reaction. She held him with her eyes, as she reached down to the mattress for support, to lean back and lower her awkward form down next to his.

"Not very sexy, is it?" she asked, as she next slipped further down, again using the mattress as support, to arrive on the floor on her knees.

She crabbed over on her knees until she faced him, kneeling back on her haunches, with innocent but determined eyes looking up at his. The predatory smile was gone, replaced with a pretty, pouting mouth, half open in a look of fogged, sensual intensity.




Just Jump



He watched his little sister as her hands came up. Her thumbs reached inside of the towel, and with one smooth, downward push the towel slipped down, then fell, revealing her swollen breasts and that wide, smooth, round expanse of belly that carried a growing fetus, a baby, a miniature human being, inside.

The backs of her fingernails coasted hypnotically over each breast as she looked down at them herself.

"They're very, very sensitive. They have been for months. They hurt a lot, so sometimes I can't be touched there. But sometimes that pain feels really, really good, like being tortured to ecstasy. I can't begin to describe it."

Her hands next went down to her belly. Again, the backs of her fingernails traced a sweeping, erotic path. The skin there was smooth and shiny, looking like a balloon filled to the point of bursting, with that same shiny, latex sheen.

"The baby kicks a lot. He's kicking now. Or she."

Her hands came to rest on her belly, palms down now. Her eyes were closed as she felt the baby inside her, moving, kicking and clearly living. Andy longed to feel it, too, but instead he sat frozen in place on the bed.

He wasn't sure what he should be doing, or how he should be acting. This wasn't how he'd planned the evening would go. He'd had hopes, and plans, but he never thought it would be so sudden, or that she would seem so eager, or that she would be in complete control while he felt lost and helpless.

When her eyes opened they were staring straight at his crotch. Her hands came up then, to grasp at the clasp atop his pants. His own hands quickly came forward to hold and still her own. They felt warm and soft under his palms and fingers. She looked up at him.

"You aren't really going to stop me, are you, Andy?"

Her eyes were wide and beautiful. No, he thought. No, never.

As he relaxed his grip, but kept his hands in whispering contact with her own, the predatory smile returned to her face. Her hands began to work, unclasping his pants before working the zipper down with a slow, relentless, accusing sound. She stared at his crotch as she pulled the folds of his pants aside, but was frustrated by his position on the bed.

"Don't make me work for this, Andy. Please."

Andy stood. She pulled his pants quickly down, and his briefs immediately after.

He was hard. How could he not be? His cock stood out like a flag pole as Taylor stared at it with that almost madly predatory smile, now tinged with approving delight. She looked up at him, eyes wide again, expression unreadable now, with his cock there between them, right before her face, just above her head. 

"Being pregnant makes me horny, Andy. I've never been this horny in my life. Ever. Not even the foolish, insane evening my baby was conceived."

Her hands lifted up then. Andy inhaled, expecting to feel the marvelous joy of having her fingers close in a smooth, unyielding embrace around his cock. Instead, her palms pressed against his thighs. They emphatically and irresistibly pushed him back down, guiding him to sit on the bed before her. As soon as he did so she spread his legs wider with her palms, arranging him exactly as she wanted.

"Are you going to stop me, Big Brother? Will you stop me now, before it's too late?"

Andy stared at her in rapt fascination, silenced and completely under her spell.

"After watching me shower? After getting all hard and excited by watching your sexy, pregnant, little sister soaping her body in the hot, steamy water? Are you going to stop me?"

* * *

Way Back When

Mary, just one year older than Taylor, had been the first to get married. She hadn't married too young, or so one might argue, but she hadn't waited long either. Finding a good man had always been high on Mary's list, even as it had always seemingly been completely missing from Taylor's.

Taylor sat at the round table, cluttered with half-finished drinks, just beyond the edge of the dimly lit dance floor. She and Andy were supposed to be at the head table with Mary and her new husband and their parents, but center stage was the last place either of them wanted to be. It was more fun to blend into the crowd here, look around, and laugh.

"Oh, God, look, Dad's dancing again. Now with Aunt Marion."

Taylor whipped her head around to see. There he was, looking like a cross between a robot, a chicken and Godzilla. She laughed. Again. It seemed like she and Andy had been laughing all day, and even more so at the reception.

"Look at Mom. She looks like she's ready to explode."

"It's funny how they can torture each other day and night, but she can still get jealous."

"I'm never getting married," Taylor said.

"Same here. Or having kids."

"Never? No chance?"

"None. Absolutely not. Are you sure yourself?"

"Well, maybe eventually, when I've got my doctorate and my career, and if I can find that one guy I know I can really, really depend on to always be there with me. I can't believe Mary's in a hurry to have children. She may be pregnant by morning."

He laughed, and she smiled, because it wasn't entirely a joke. It was true, and it scared Taylor.

"You'd think she'd have learned from what we went through growing up," Andy said.

"No wonder she had us bridesmaids wear black."

Andy laughed at that.

"That's okay. You look really hot in black."

Taylor gave Andy a shy, grateful smile, while Andy continued to survey the room as if he'd merely mentioned that the food was good. It both embarrassed her and excited her when he complimented her looks. She never felt like the prettiest of girls. The smartest, yes, but rarely even cute or pretty, let alone hot. 

That was partly her fault. She had her share of love interests, but looking good just wasn't a focus for her, and never had been. Or maybe it just seemed too hard to do. It wasn't natural for her. It was too much work. Or maybe she was pretty, and people just didn't bring it up often because she was so smart. Pretty and smart don't always mix well, it seemed.

As if it were an insult to tell a smart girl that she was beautiful, too.

Maybe it was all of them together. That was just all part of who Taylor was.

But Andy always did it, he always told her she looked good, and always at just the right moments, in the most sincerely off handed of ways, as if it were so true that he couldn't resist, but was too embarrassed to actually do it.

"You'd look good in a tux, yourself. It's too bad her husband didn't make you a groomsman, like Brian."

"The guy you've been paired with looks good, too. Better than me."

Taylor rolled her eyes.

"Please. If Mary pushes me at him one more time I'm going to vomit. She promised she wouldn't do this. Time and again, I told her I want my PhD, not a man. And here he is, paired with me as we walk, beside me at dinner, and just a little too eager every step of the way. I wonder what Mary told him."

"Did he make any moves on you at the rehearsal dinner?"

"No, thank god. But he keeps trying to, now. If I have to avoid dancing with him one more time, I'm going to stop being subtle and just lose it."

"I'll stick by your side. Keep him away."

"Same."

She watched Andy look across the room at his designated companion, an old college friend of Mary's. That wasn't the same thing, though. Mary knew that Andy was a love 'em and leave 'em type. She probably told her friend that Andy was an easy lay, and that's probably what she was looking for.

Andy probably thought the same thing, and wanted it, and Taylor was just in the way. Sticking by her was costing him his chance at some fun, meaningless sex. That irked Taylor in too many ways to count. It bugged her that she was in his way. It bugged her that he couldn't be more serious with girls. And worst of all it made her feel jealous.

After years and years, even as they'd gotten older, she still felt far too inappropriately jealous when the subject of Andy and other women came up.

"Shit, look. Mom and Dad are ready to go at it."

"Look at Mary. She sees it," Taylor said, nodding her way.

"Okay, I can't watch this part. It would be funny, if it weren't so pathetic."

"Oh, shit. Double shit. Another slow song. Is he coming? Look. Look. Is he coming?"

"Yes."

Taylor quickly stood, grabbing Andy's hand.

"Dance with me. One quick, slow, easy dance, then we'll sneak out the back and hang out in the parking lot."

"I'm in," Andy said, as she pulled him to the dance floor, enjoying the easy, familiar warmth of his hand as the sound of the music in her ears and the feel of the alcohol in her blood started to fog her mind and drive her worries away.

* * *

Then

The very moment that his phone vibrated Andy quickly looked and saw that it was Taylor. He put it to his ear, even though he was in the middle of giving a lecture to a hundred disinterested freshmen in a huge hall.

"One moment, people. Go ahead and chatter all you want."

He flipped the phone open while covering his other ear to make sure he could hear.

"Andy? I got the results."

"Shit. Is it okay? Is the baby okay?"

"He's fine, Andy. He's perfect."

"It's a boy?"

"No. I don't know. I told them not to tell me. But I don't want to call her an it. So sometimes I say he, and sometimes I say she."

Andy closed his eyes. He'd been so worried. Part of him didn't want her to do the amniocentesis test. He didn't want to know. But she was right. It was better to know. It was the responsible thing to do. Now that they did, he felt a million times better.

"You're going to be such a good mom. You're sure it... he's okay? Did they look for anything special?"

"They did every test they could. He's fine, they say. Nothing to worry about, at least not genetically."

"Meaning what?"

"Mostly just that he doesn't have any missing or mismatched chromosomes or stuff. There's a lot they can't look for. And anything could still happen. Now that I'm past the first trimester, the odds are a lot better. But... I'm not scared, though. She's perfect. Or he. Everything is going to be perfect."

"I hope so. I've been so worried."

"That's not like you."

"Meaning what?"

He said that too loudly, but the class didn't hear him, except for maybe a few young girls in the front row. He knew why he got a lot of freshmen girls in this class. Before Taylor got pregnant, he was actually tempted to take advantage of the circumstance. Now he turned his back on them to get a little more privacy.

"I'm sorry," Taylor was saying. "I didn't mean anything. Really. And I am grateful. You've offered to help so much."

"It's not just an offer, Taylor. I feel like I have to."

"No, you don't, Andy. This isn't your problem."

Andy was silent at first.

"I'm not going to fail you on this, Taylor. Mom and Brian and the rest can think what they want of me, but I'm never going to fail you."

"I know that, Andy."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I can't wait for you to come here. I'm dying to see you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Andy. I... we can't wait to be with you."

He wanted to say more, but now wasn't the time. He turned back to face the class.

"I have to go. Take care of yourself."

"You, too. I love you."

"Same," he finished lamely, as he stared into a sea of less than eager faces. "I have to go. We'll talk later."

With that, he closed the phone and launched back into his lecture without even bothering to quiet the students, feeling a million times better about life than he had for the past week.

* * *

Way Back When

Before Taylor got to high school, when Andy was just a freshman himself, times got rough in their house. It happens a lot to couples who suddenly find that the burden of managing a financial and parental commitment to the futures of four children puts an unexpected stress on everything, and leaves very little time for the sort of playful romance that brought them together in the first place. They each feel alone and trapped, losing touch with each other when they can least afford to do so. It creates stress for them, and their response passes that stress on to the very children they are sacrificing their own love, knowingly or unknowingly, willingly or accidentally, to protect.

"I don't fucking care what you think!"

The stormy words didn't so much drift into the room as pummel it. Dad was all the way downstairs, but it still sounded like he was right in the hall. Taylor stood timidly in Andy's doorway. She looked at him like she was about to burst into tears.

"That's because you don't fucking think! Jesus, how stupid can you be?" their mom's voice came back.

"It's okay, Taylor. Come on in. Shut the door."

He could see tears threatening to form in her eyes. She looked just like he felt, and knew she looked just like he had some years back. Closing the door muffled the angry bellows some, but not much.

"Are they going to get a divorce?"

Her voice trembled, just like his would have at her age, if he'd had anyone to talk to.

"Them? No. Maybe they should, but they won't."

"Don't say that."

"They won't. Trust me."

Andy said it, but didn't believe it. That very same fear had preyed on his own thoughts for years upon years. What if they split up? What would happen to them? Would they have to move? Switch schools? Would Dad come around? Would they have to, Jesus Christ, stay with Mom? 

Taylor started to cry. She fought back the tears, wiping them away and on her night shirt as if that meant she wasn't crying. She didn't make a sound, but the way her lip trembled scared Andy into thinking a wail would suddenly burst out. He wanted to put his arm around her but didn't really know how to even make the invitation.

He had cried his share himself, more than once, until he had stoned himself against it. Taylor sat down near him, but not next to him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he didn't. They just sat there, side by side, listening to their parents dismantle the world, piece by piece outside of his room, as if when they were finished he would open the door to find nothing but a black, empty void with only his bed and he and Taylor left in existence.

* * *

Thanksgiving Day

Taylor felt tipsy. Okay, it was more than tipsy. She felt good.

Life had been empty of late. She'd settled very neatly into a routine, after rocketing through life by getting her PhD by the age of just twenty-three, and an assistant professor's position soon after that. Things had been that way for four years now.

Life was easy. Teach every day. Grade papers. Put off the students and grad students trying to flirt with her, thankfully with most of them lacking the courage to try to do anything more. And watch the professors and everyone else go home to their wives.

But where was the fun?

Taylor felt a little trapped. She wasn't meeting anyone, and it was a little too easy to keep on that road. It was hard to find someone who even remotely paired with her soul.

Her checklist was too long. She liked cute. Not handsome, or rugged, or tall, or sexy, but at least cute.

She needed brains. That was a tough one to fill. They couldn't just be smart and ambitious. She needed them to have an education and a thirst for knowledge that matched her own.

She needed sex. She knew a lot of men wanted sex, but they didn't really need it, or provide it, the way Taylor felt her body and soul craved and would always crave it. They didn't have to be magnificent, fulfilling lovers, but the grunting Cro-Magnon's that she'd already coupled with always tried so hard at first and then tapered off until it became a simple routine of kiss, clothes on the floor, pump fast if pleasurably, then fall asleep.

Sex had to be regular, for her. It had to be meaningful. It had to have passion and investment. It could never, ever become routine. Beyond that, it had to be dirty. As much as she could be a good little girl in public, in private, with a man, Taylor liked to be dirty.

After that, she wanted her space. She wasn't a toy, or a fawning, he-man's cheerleader. She had a brain, and a life, and her own interests and pursuits. She needed room to be herself, as well as to be with someone some but not all of the time as well.

She needed way more than that, and few men could meet any two of her requirements, and not even three, let alone all four.

She really, really missed kissing a guy, but was too bored with the emptiness to kiss anyone but someone she loved.

She took another sip of her wine, thinking to herself that even that was probably a mistake, as she refilled the glass.

She hadn't kissed a guy in so long she felt like she was drying up, from the inside out. She felt like she could feel her insides flaking and peeling, crumbling inward until finally it would crack through, and everyone would scream as she let out one last whimper and settled very suddenly into a pile of dust on the floor.

The ridiculously fantastical image made her smile.

Andy sat on the couch, oblivious, not even watching the game anymore, with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, a half-finished beer forgotten in his grip. Everyone else had moved out to the porch for drinks and such. She could hear them talking softly and laughing on occasion. 

Brian's kids were out with Mary's, playing some game in the yard with Brian and Mary's husband and a frisbee. Everyone was just playing or drinking away what was left of the evening, until it was time to end another Turner family Thanksgiving, load up in the cars and head back to normal life, whatever that was.

She and mom and Mary had finished cleaning up after dinner, washing plates, and wrapping assorted and sundry portions of dishes and desserts for each family to take home. She herself had claimed an extra portion of Brain's wife's famous pecan pie. Her older brother had married a winner, at least as far as cooking tasty deserts went.

Her sister Mary had done well enough, too, with Bert. Taylor couldn't stand him, but Mary was happy. She got her kids, and her house, and her summer vacations abroad. 

Taylor looked around at Mary's too well appointed house. She had all of the right works of art, tasteful knickknacks, throw rugs, furniture, everything. There was the huge flat screen TV that Andy wasn't even bothering to watch. Beneath it was a dizzying array of electronics. High ceilings. Gigantic rooms. It was a virtual palace. 

Mary was apparently very happy. She had everything she wanted. 

Taylor listened to the kids outside, feeling a twinge of jealousy there. She wanted kids of her own, some day. She wasn't in a hurry, but she sometimes felt that she had this urge inside of her that had to be buried really, really deep to keep her from settling for the wrong man just to fast forward to that wonderful day, coupled with the nagging fear that when that day came, it would turn out to be a nightmare instead.

So they were all out there, playing or watching or talking, while Taylor and Andy were left alone in here.

Andy sat there, head tipped back on the couch, maybe listening to the game. She could tell he wasn't sleeping or the bottle would have slipped from his hand, but his eyes were too tired to actually watch. Occasionally, when something exciting happened, his lids half opened and his head lolled forward. He'd watch, then quickly grow bored and lean back.

He'd probably had too many beers, like Taylor had had too much wine.

He looked cute. She'd always thought so, even if she'd never let the big prick know it. He had a lot of what Taylor liked in a guy. He had soft, easy features, and a boyish look and expression that could make you think he was five years younger than he was. He had a nice, beaming smile, when he cared to show it, and warm, caring eyes, the kind that made you feel like he was really listening to you even though she often wondered if he really was.




Just Jump



He had an easy enough time getting girls. It was too bad he could never get serious with any of them or pick one that was worth getting serious with. Personally, Taylor didn't care for any of the ones he did date. They were all tarts or tramps or vacuous sluts, or just plain bitches. None of them treated her big brother the way he deserved, even if he treated them worse.

At least, he never had much of anything nice to say about them to her. None of them lasted for more than a few months, and the way Andy talked he got them all into bed the very first night, or else he didn't give them a second chance.

His lips were just very slightly open as he rested. His chest rose and fell nicely. He had a pretty good chest, without much hair, and pretty good musculature. Taylor liked that, too.

She stood nearer to him, just watching him, without him knowing.

She wondered how he kissed. Was he as lame as some guys, or actually good at it? Was that why he got so many of them into bed so fast, or did he just know how to pick out the biggest whore in a group?

Taylor felt evil. She knew it was the wine talking, but it would be funny. He'd probably jump a mile.

She bent over. She hesitated for an instant, looking back to be sure no one was coming her way.

She planted her lips on his and pressed. She'd intended, at first, to just make it a quick peck, and then to laugh at him as he startled up and screamed "What the hell?"

That was her intention, at least. But he didn't move right away, not instantly. She kept her lips pressed against his. She even had a moment to move her lips on his, creating a wonderfully sensual feel. She was almost tempted, and almost had the time, to push her tongue between his parted lips.

He did lurch back away from her, eventually. Taylor grinned widely as she thought about how long he had taken to react. Too long. Long enough for her to know, for sure, that he actually knew what was happening and liked it and let it continue beyond reason.

"Taylor, what the hell?"

Taylor laughed, finishing with a wicked grin and a leer. He was so predictable.

"What? I got bored."

She kept grinning as he glared at her, until the glare melted into a sheepish smile. He did like it. There was no doubt.

"We've got to find you a boyfriend. You're losing it."

Taylor moved around to sit next to him on the couch, smoothing out her loose dress to keep it from riding too far up her thighs. She half expected him to move away, to make room for her, but he didn't. He was dead in the center, on a sofa that was really not big enough for three, with both arms stretched out across the back as if he were being crucified. She had to squeeze in between him and the sidearm. She wiggled her ass a few times to make room for herself.

"Who's winning?" she asked, as if she cared, while leaning her head on his shoulder. She could feel him look down at her, as he stiffened at her unexpected affection before relaxing himself.

"Dallas. But it won't stay that way for long."

Taylor took another sip of her wine, then closed her eyes to listen to the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat.

It wasn't a real kiss, but it was pretty good. She'd remember it for a while, just because it was so wickedly cheap and sinful. She might even warp the memory into pretending it was something more.

Sadly, it didn't scratch the itch, it only made it worse. She was going to have to do some serious predation when she got to work on Monday, maybe even pick out a grad student for a fling, someone safely into their last year so there was an eventual, easy and guaranteed escape.

Something had to be done. She just couldn't take it anymore. To hell with propriety and the rules, and to hell with her checklist.

Taylor needed to get laid.

* * *

It was almost time to call it a night. Instead of leaving now they were up here. It was a quick escape of sorts for Andy. He needed her.

"You okay?" she asked, as softly as she could while being certain that he heard her.

Andy kept his head down, rummaging with exaggerated carelessness through a pile of old framed paintings, throw rugs, flower vases, mirrors and such. He didn't answer, and Taylor hadn't expected him to. It was just a way to get started.

Everyone heard it all, of course. It hadn't helped, certainly, when Mom did as she always did, pretending to play peacemaker while coming in far too transparently on Brian's side, adding her weight to his. One would think that she'd learn. It always pissed Andy off, turned an argument into a battle, and ultimately lead to Andy either storming out, drinking more, or both.

In this case, he'd settled for having two more beers before declaring that he had to go up to the attic to find some things to take home for his apartment.

It wasn't lost on anyone that that subtle act put an exclamation point on his position to begin with.

"I think he's wrong, you know."

Andy glared at her.

"I do."

"Little Miss Perfect thinks Mr. Perfect is wrong. Whoop-dee-doo. Yay. I hate the fucker."

"Andy. You don't. He's your brother."

"Him and Mom both, sometimes, I do."

"You do not mean that."

He tossed a ripped painting across the floor to make a path to another pile, further back. Dust was starting to swirl through the dimly lit air. In Taylor's slightly giddy state it gave the space an otherworldly, almost literary feel. She shook her head to clear it, but that only reminded her how dizzy and unsteady she felt. She should have stopped at two herself.

"No, I don't, but I want to."

"And I'm not perfect."

"Oh yes you are. Don't for one minute pretend you're not."

"I'm not."

"You're the fucking favorite after Brian, Taylor. You're what all of us are supposed to be, so that Mom can show us off to the neighbors."

"I want to be like you, actually."

Andy stared at her, obviously looking for some sign that she was teasing him, or just sucking up. He maintained his stare, waiting for her to crack. She didn't. It was easy not to, feeling as drunk as she very suddenly did. It was as if the wine had been waiting for the right moment and now hit her all at once

"I do, Andy. I'm tired of never fucking up."

As soon as the words came out she almost tried to bite the air to pull them back. Instead she bit her lip, and worried that he'd ignore her from this point on.

Oddly, Andy's expression didn't change, at first. More oddly, when it did, he smiled.

"I can teach you."

He was so cute when he smiled. He really was just cute all the time, even when he was pissed. A guy like Andy would be perfect for her, even one as rebellious and cluelessly irresponsible as him.

In fact kissing him hadn't been at all bad, she had to admit. Not at all.

Andy turned away to look more closely at another painting, bending over to pull it from a stack and hold it up in the light. He had a cute ass, too.

That was only the wine talking, Taylor thought, as she continued to stare at his butt. She felt a wave of dizziness. She leaned on the musty old comfy chair beside her for support, still staring as he turned around abruptly to display the painting.

"What do you think?"

Taylor snapped her eyes up, trying to pretend she hadn't been doing what she had been doing, and knowing that by just thinking about it she was starting to blush. He could certainly read her face, if not her mind. He always could. It was like he was in her head, half the time.

He was showing her a really dumb, impressionist painting of a Victorian couple out in a rowboat on a lily covered pond, near a shore lined with weeping willows. They were joined on the water by a pair of white swans. A part of her knew he'd think it was awful, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Instead she looked dumbly at him, while telling herself that yes, he did have a nice ass.

"It's nice."

"You were thinking something."

"No. Nothing."

"Yes, you were. Tell me."

Taylor bit her lower lip. She kept trying to think of something acceptable to say, when finally, out of options, she settled for a version of the truth.

"I was thinking that you're cute."

"Oh?"

He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Yes. You are. I don't know why you're not married yet."

He laughed a laugh that said "not you, too," but said something else.

"Maybe I just haven't met the right girl."

"What are you looking for? Maybe I can help."

Andy stared at her then.

"Do you really want to fuck something up?"

That question caught her off guard. She didn't want him to think she'd just said it, that she had made it up. It really was true. She got so tired of always doing the right thing. She got tired of being bored, boring, and perfect, and it was really getting her nowhere fast.

Mom and Dad and Brian and Mary all said he fucked a lot of things up, but Andy never got into serious trouble as a result. Things always worked out just fine for him, but with a lot less hassle, and a lot less worrying and anxiety, and a whole lot less effort. Taylor wanted to be like that. She hated herself, sometimes, for the excess effort and care she put into everything from earning her doctorate to shopping for groceries. Or even sex, or choosing a partner to have sex with.

"Yes, I do."

He stepped up to her, so close that she could smell the beer on his breath. His eyes suddenly filled her entire field of vision. It was like they had suddenly grown to block out the whole room. They looked just like Dad's, but with a sinister twinkle that Dad had never shown.

"How badly do you want it?"

The way he'd phrased that made Taylor freeze. Had he figured out where her thoughts had been? That idea mortified her. Was he teasing her to torment her? He could do that, sometimes.

"Badly."

"You want to fuck something? Up?"

He was grinning now. He grinned for an instant, and then his expression got all scary serious. He did know, Taylor thought. He knew and she couldn't back out. Not now. She wanted him to believe in her. She'd worked her whole life at getting people to believe in her, at doing the right thing so they'd come to her when they needed her, or know that if she said she'd do something she would.

She moved her face closer to Andy's, silently accepting his dare.

She wanted everyone to believe in her, but Andy most of all. She didn't know why, but out of all of her siblings, she had special feelings for Andy. He was more of a big brother to her than Brian, even though Brian tried harder to protect her and help her. She and Andy were closer. There was more of a connection.

She closed her eyes, silently daring him in turn.

"Is this what you want? Is this how you want to fuck up?" he asked.

His words, in the blackness behind her closed lids, sounded like they came from inside her own head. She could feel herself swaying, losing her balance, as the wine coursed through her blood and threatened to tip her over, just for fun.

Everything was just for fun. She needed to have some fun. Damn it, she needed any sort of wicked fun, and she needed it now.

Before she knew it, they were kissing. It wasn't that lingering, pretend to kiss peck that she'd given him before. It was deep and soulful. It was the sort of kiss they never should have shared, and in a way it was a sort of kiss she felt she'd never experienced before and always wanted.

Andy could kiss. She felt her own body pressing hard against his. She felt her nipples, suddenly hard, tingling with electric shocks of pleasure. She felt his lips massaging her own, not rough or demanding, but instead surprisingly soft and gentle. He didn't kiss the way she would have expected.

She really liked it.

When his arms slipped behind her back, to pull her close, she felt a sudden lurch. It was like the whole world flipped upside down, or maybe it had been upside down and it flipped right side up.

He held her against him, kissing her back, as their tongues timidly met between barely parted lips. They touched like that, only barely pressing against each other before moving and circling in a quiet, shy, delightful dance.

She felt his cock. In a sudden moment of clarity, with her mind suddenly working again, if only for a brief series of instants, she realized that he was hard and pressing against her.

More than that, she was wet. She didn't know if she already had been, or if the sudden feel of him, his cock, had drawn it from her. But she was. He had made her wet.

His tongue forced its way into her mouth, or maybe she had invited it in. Maybe she opened her mouth wide, luring and sucking him in. She didn't know. The clarity left her, and the fog overwhelmed her. She felt drunken, happy, reckless, and totally out of control. She didn't remember where or who she was, only that she shouldn't be doing this, and so she would.

She broke the kiss, slipping slowly to her knees, smelling the pleasing, familiar odor on his torso as she kissed her way down his chest, then down his belly.

There, on her knees, eyes closed, she rubbed her face against his crotch. He was so hard! She didn't know if he qualified as big. She hadn't had that many men, but it felt right. It would do the job, she thought, or felt. From then on there was no more thinking involved.

She might have expected anyone else to push her away, but she heard a low moan in the air above her head as his hands fell to rest on her head. That was Andy, alright.

For her own part, she should have been hesitating or something. She'd ask herself later a million times why she hadn't, and never know why. It didn't matter.

Without even knowing she was doing it, she was fumbling at his pants. In her stupor she had a difficult time, but his hand was quickly there to expertly help. His pants slid down easily, followed by soft cotton boxers that she dragged artlessly but eagerly down with two hands. Her eyes were closed as she quickly and thoughtlessly took him into her mouth.

It felt so good.

* * *

Andy tried to convince himself he was too drunk to really know what he was doing, even as he languished under the most amazing mouth he'd ever felt on his cock. Even as he tried to tell himself that it wasn't and it couldn't be she descended on him with the ring of her mouth squeezing, bathing and torturing his cock in the most marvelous way he'd ever experienced.

He sat in the chair now, with Taylor on her knees before him, the straps of her pretty little dress pushed off of her now bare shoulders. He couldn't see anything really worth seeing, anything more than he'd already seen before, as much as he ached to. He loved watching her work on him while so clearly enjoying it, but it kept reminding him that she was the darling younger sister that he so loved. He enjoyed the sight of her, and that appalled him, or he told himself that it should, so he tipped his head back to rest against the soft, musty, dusty chair. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and imagined how beautiful her round, firm, pert breasts must look.

He loved the way she'd stop every so often to run her tongue and lips the full length of his shaft, starting at the bottom, before working slowly, but not too slowly, up to the tip, where she'd either run her tongue around the base of his cock head, or just envelop him with her mouth and make her way back down, consuming his entire cock between tight, pursed lips as she went.

He tried to tell himself it only felt so good because he was angry and drunk. He tried to tell himself it had just been too long, and that he needed to fly home and call Kristen or Tamara right away.

He tried to tell himself a lot of things, to avoid thinking about the fact that this was his own sister, making his cock feel like no other woman had in his life.

"Oh, Taylor..."

He stiffened as the words left his lips. He hadn't meant to say it. He'd been trying not to make a sound, as if letting his pleasure show would be the most sinful thing that he could do, or as if hiding that pleasure meant it wasn't really wrong to be doing it.

If he was at all afraid she'd stop at his words, he was mistaken. She redoubled her efforts, moving quickly over his cock now, bobbing her head, moving him in and out of her mouth as if he were frantically fucking her, and that was exactly what she really wanted.

Kristen couldn't suck cock like this. She was willing to do anything and as eager to please him as any woman he'd ever met. He didn't even want to think about how much experience she'd had and how many men she'd had to attain that skill.

But she couldn't do this. She was a fun fuck to call and not too annoying to wake up to, as long as it was only for one day at a time. Her, and Tammy, and Mimi, and all of the others. He put up with them and assumed they were doing the same with him, until he could pound his frustrated urges into their soft, tight, little bodies and fall asleep, all while hoping they didn't try to use the L-word on him, and worse than that to mean it when they said it.

It always felt good, but it made him feel shitty doing it. It felt more wrong than this.

Taylor was different. He couldn't think about Taylor the way he thought about them.

Fuck, he shouldn't be thinking about her this way. And yet the word "love" kept coming into his head, as it never had with anyone else.

She slowed again, with her hand holding his cock in a tight, constricting grip, as her mouth and tongue went zealously to work on his cock head, making him crazy with intense feelings. Where the hell had she learned to do this? She did it like she did everything, fucking perfectly.

He grinned at the thought. He could never be like her, but he admired her so much for that. He wanted to try to do something, anything the way she did everything, with that much intensity and forethought and passion and care, but he just didn't have the patience, or the focus. He was always in too much of a hurry, or he just didn't care.

Not now, though. He knew this was a one time thing, and it was amazing. He wanted this to last for as long as it possibly could, because he knew that neither of them would ever even speak of this, or admit to it, let alone try again.

Fuck, she felt good. She felt different. She felt real. It was like other women weren't really there with him. It was like they weren't people, they were just actresses in a skit, brought in to play a part and then move on to their next performance.

Taylor was real. She was so fucking real. He felt the cum building in his balls as her mouth frantically covered the hard length of his shaft from every angle. It was as if she were in his head, and knew exactly what he wanted and when. He felt himself building to an explosive orgasm.

He knew it would be amazing. He didn't want to come in her mouth. Not hers. She was too perfect. She was his little sister, the one sibling he had that he truly loved and respected and cared for. He wanted something better for her than to coat her mouth, or her face, with his cum.

And just that thought almost sent him over the edge. She was so beautiful. Maybe not to everyone, but she was to him. She was perfect. Little Miss Perfect.

He didn't want to foul that perfect, innocent, and always so intense face with his cum, but at the same time the image of it excited him like nothing else. She'd look so sexy with his cum on her face, or with her mouth closed, clamped down on his cock as he came, and afterward greedily holding it all inside.

He tried to banish the thought, knowing where it would lead. He could feel his cock stiffen in her mouth.

She was going to make him come. He was going to come in his little sister's beautiful, wonderful, loving, perfect mouth.

* * *

Way Back When

Andy and Taylor both still spent summers at home. That was to be expected of Taylor. Every college student did that. It was childish of Andy. A graduate student should have developed his own life by now, and stay in his apartment while assisting the professors with summer school or research. Or something. He should long ago have stopped spending summers at home. But that was Andy for you.




Just Juxtapose



 Author's Note: So I hear you've been waiting patiently. Well, thank you very much. The Wound in Time series is back and rearing to be devoured. Hurricane Katrina had a hand in my hiatus but I'm getting back on track. So where were we? Right, chapter six. It's hot, it's fresh, and it carries on directly from chapter five. The story contains mainly F/F action as well as a plot. It's a lengthy piece that will not likely satisfy your search for instant gratification. Please check out the previous chapters if you want extra dirt on the characters. They're not listed in order but the titles are sequential as follows: (WIT)At First, Blind Borne, Escapade, Felon Failing Fallen and Just Juxtapose. That said, read on and hopefully, enjoy the story. Please don't forget to comment.

TMAJO

Dig, dig, dig until it hurts. Life is strange, even before it starts.  

****************

"For the last time; I don't KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

"Oh I think you do. I just don't understand who or what you're protecting."

"Fucking cucaracha, do you have any ears?!"

"And again, with the feistiness...Just tell us what we want to know."

The room was poorly lit for effect, but the redhead didn't know that. She was blindfolded and cuffed to a cold steel chair. She could smell the dingy stench of moist earth and mold. The sounds from her kidnapper echoed through the space but even without her sight, she could still place his distance to her. She shivered again at the cold seat.

"Listen, I don't know who the fuck you are but -"

"I know who you are, and I assure you, threats are beyond futile in your current position."

"In that case, you're wasting your time."

That earned her a slap across her sweat-soaked face. Bellinda yelped with the momentary shock but she didn't allow her attacker any satisfaction of tears or weakness. Or at least any indication that she was afraid for her life. There were so many things she hadn't done and wanted to do. A full tour of the world was one. Sex on a nude beach was another. She wanted to see her father and tell him how much she loved and appreciated him, despite his absentee behavior. Bellinda sighed as she became consumed by the strongest desire of all; her desire for Mavin.

That bit angered her. She'd been thinking about Mavin, non-stop for a full month now. It had to be unhealthy. After the incident at the club, she'd gone home and analyzed every detail until nothing really made sense anymore. At José's funeral, all she could think about was Mavin; looking so fucking sexy in her black Armani suit. With a sad, wounded look in her eyes that Bellinda ached to erase. She'd cried for more than her uncle that day. 

Now, here she was. Being interrogated after being kidnapped one her way out of the gallery. It hadn't been long in reality, but in her current mental state, Bellinda would've argued her abduction took place days ago. She was weary and angry for obvious reasons but to make matters worse, the uncertainty of her fate was driving her insane. She wasn't too hurt physically, - a bruised wrist and stinging left cheek, but without her vision, there was no way for her to predict what the attacker truly had in store for her. Knowing what the hell they were talking about would've helped as well.

"That won't get you anywhere." Bellinda sneered through her clenched teeth as she tasted the rust of her blood.

**********

"Who the fuck is this?!" Mavin asked in an eerily calm tone.

There were too many things to be angry about. Her highly-protected line was being tampered with, or worse, bugged. She wanted to salvage any future- fuck, that word. She was so use to living in the moment and only being responsible for whatever she could squeeze out of it. Thinking of the future put too many things which she had no control over into perspective, and she hated having to account for 'what ifs' and regrets.

She heaved a sigh. Nonetheless, she was determined to see where the journey with Bellinda would lead. But that couldn't happen now as Mavin was being held up by some punk.

"Who fuck is this?!" She asked again, a breath short of an explosion.

The line was silent for a moment and she could hear some rustling noise in the background.

"If you want to see her again, you'll do exactly as you're told." The reply came in a clipped tone.

"Listen, if you think-" Mavin wasn't having any of it. Not even a glance at the menu.

"Tomorrow, noon-" The voice continued, interrupting the dark woman.

"I don't have time for this." Mavin spat and killed the line.

She had more important things to deal with than a prank call. Her schedule for the next 3 months was chock full of trips, meetings and deadlines. But more importantly, she pictured it with Bellinda. As she grabbed her coat, visions of the redhead clouded her mind as it often did lately. Bellinda's gentle laughter, sometimes wild, always passionate, rang in her ears.

"Yup, you're in trouble..." Mavin mumbled to herself, "I'm heading out folks!" She called out to her family.

"What's up?" Zeke came through the hallway to find his sister ready to bounce.

"Something I've gotta do." Mavin said and then broke into a grin, "And apparently, there's stuff you gotta take care of as well."

Just then, her cell phone rang. The caller-ID showed the same unfamiliar number as before.

"Shit...relentless." She huffed and killed the call, switching off the phone.

"What's that?" Zeke stepped closer and eyed Mavin because she was grinning oddly.

"Too much Xmas spirit I suppose. But I gotta wonder, maybe you're born with it." She patted Zeke's shoulder and made her way to the foyer.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zeke made a face, completely puzzled.

"I dunno...maybe it's Maybelline." Mavin turned around and shrugged even as she continued walking towards the door.

Zeke wondered what had gotten into his sister, and rubbed his lips out of habit. The lipstick smear that appeared on his fingers explained it and soon he had to keep himself from toppling over furniture as he laughed his way through the long hallway and into the kitchen.

"Becca, I promise we'll go shopping for the no-fade stuff." He said aloud as he found his wife where he'd left her; tied to the kitchen table with a vibrator in her ass. And it was no small thing either.

"What kept you?" Becca half growled and half moaned. The position she was holding, or rather, forced to hold didn't allow her much movement. She was comfortable, but the mad whirring going on in her ass wanted her to hump something. And that was where being flat on a small round table became aggravating.

"You miss me already?" Zeke said, watching his wife's pussy ooze with her need. He lost himself in it for a while.

They'd been playing up their holiday fantasy season as it was their habit to do. Spontaneous moments like these were the stuff of inside jokes between them. They'd wordlessly resigned themselves to the fact, that any serious conversations held in the future over this particular kitchen table, would be a complete farce. 

"Fuck me!" Becca barked, thank goodness the girls were asleep in another wing of the house.

"Non ma Cher." Zeke whispered, keeping his eyes on the toy that visibly shook with the power of the many micro motors built into it.

Hell, he should know. He'd built it, especially for his wife, with the silicon covering fashioned from a mold of his own love wand. He remembered the look on Mavin's face when he'd showed it to her. She agreed that he'd outdone himself. It was his Xmas gift to Becca and Santa be damned; Xmas was coming early.

"Oh merde!" Becca cursed in French. Her ass was on fire and it felt absolutely delicious to feel her pussy getting soaked of its own greedy accord.

"Damn baby, you are sooo bad." Zeke groaned and moved to swat her ass with his palm.

"Ahhh..." Becca responded to the hot sting shimmering through her left ass cheek, "More..."

*********** Meanwhile ***********

In another part of town, well-situated away from the 'burbs, Club Heat was thumping with fresh blood. For some time now, a new vibe had been sweeping through the underground. And club goers were only too happy to get carried away.

"Oh, you're gonna love Q baby."

"Mmmm....Give it to me."

The hottest thing in Heat was Qwax. The tiny red pill made Ecstasy seem like a day at the DMV. Though the effects were similar, Red Queen, as some called it, brought out the real you. It gave you a sense of one and all-ness. It expanded your sense of the world around you and took away any fears you might have of exploring the hell out of it. A longer peak and a shorter crash also didn't hurt.

Kris had done X many times before but her experiences with the Queen over the last week had been nothing short of incredible. Where Ecstasy made her feel warm and full of expendable energy, Q made her feel downright hot and very sensitive. A tiny breeze alone could wreak such pleasurable havoc on her skin, not to talk of a tangible caress from another human body. If she thought she enjoyed being close to someone else while on X, she absolutely needed to have someone glued to her with the Red Queen.

Tonight however, was all the more special to Kris. She'd met someone new and was eager to share the experience with her new friend. They met a few days ago in the subway during a small case of claustrophobia. Kris had been riding to work as usual, when the train screeched to a stop. These kind of things happened all the time but not when the person next to you grabs you in a desperate panic for comfort.

Kris hadn't even noticed the girl until then. She'd been so wrapped up in her own head that being grabbed by a stranger didn't immediately register.

"S-s-should we be stopped?" The dark haired girl had asked, trembling slightly.

"There's probably a good reason...but we may never know." Kris shrugged and winced at the tight grip that was clamping her right thigh, just a few inches from her knee. "Are you okay?" She asked as she registered some kind of fear in the girl's demeanor.

"I-I-I d-don't like closed spaces." The girl stammered.

"Um...okay," Kris blinked a few times then continued, "You do realize this is a subway car? I mean, if you're claustrophobic, I kinda imagine you'd know what you're getting into."

Just as the words left her lip, Kris felt a twinge of regret because she was offering the girl no comfort. But then again, how could she when her knee was being crushed?

She was about to apologize when the conductor's voice screeched over the PA. There was some track congestion up ahead as two trains had gone slightly off-sync. The time interval between them had warped and thus, oncoming trains had to be delayed in order to clear things up. Well, that's what could be inferred from the garbled stream of static and mangled words. You gotta love the NYC Transit system.

Kris turned to the girl who seemed to be hanging on to every word that sputtered through the speakers. "Ah, there you go, just a run in the nylon that is the subway."

The girl smiled, sheepishly. Her face flushed, partly from psychotic exhaustion and partly from self-consciousness. She slowly released Kris' knee and whispered an apology. Just then, the train jerked back to life and a sigh of relief escapes her.

"I'm s-sorry." She said nervously.

"No, I should be apologizing...I mean, I could've been more accommodating."

"Most people aren't when they perceive your fear....as being ridiculous."

"Well, I hate to be most people, so I'm just Kris." Kris had offered a grin and they'd exchanged numbers.

And here they both were, riding on a wave of sensation. The club thumped with unnatural sounds and wild rhythms. But all Kris cared about at the moment was the body that was pressed into hers, swaying to the hypnotic sounds. With a sly grin, she slipped the small red pill through her friend's quivering lips.

"Relax babe, and kiss your fears goodbye." Kris whispered in a tone meant to penetrate the girl's head.

"Are you sure this is safe?" The girl asked, even though she'd already swallowed the pill.

"Trust me." Kris said through a smile as she brushed her lips against the girl's exposed neck. "I promise you'll be just fine."

Meanwhile on the other side of the club a stout figure hobbled along the wall on the way to the washrooms. The figure moved slowly, stopping every now and then to wipe the blood that flowed like tears, from eyes that seemed ready to burst. The trip is exhaustive and soon, the figure collapses in a fit of convulsions, just short of the washroom. Soon, a pool of blood gathers and it isn't until another patron finds the sight to be a complete nuisance that the bouncers are called in.

*********

It was freezing, - or frozen rather. The sky was grey and ominous; not at all unusual for the season. A fresh haze of powder snowflakes fluttered down over the city, each one bearing no mark its brooding origin.

"Need a damn vacation." Mavin mumbled to herself as she plowed her way to Bella's condo.

A 20-minute drive stretched into 45 minutes because of the not-so-innocent snowflakes, millions of them. Mavin shook her head and pulled into the familiar driveway. She parked and made her way into the building. The elevator was working fine but as Mavin got in she couldn't help but wonder if the stairs would've been faster.

"Only 12 floors..." She sighed, not wanting to think of what she would say to Bellinda. The things she wanted to do to the redhead.

"10th floor...2 more..." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, partly nervous and completely excited.

After an everlasting trip on the elevator, - which really only lasted about 30 seconds, Mavin flew off the elevator and ran for Bellinda's door. There were only 2 doors per floor so she didn't have to think about how many doors she'd run past.

The tall butch was about to knock but remembered the key in her pocket. She swiveled to get the key and bumped into the door. It opened slightly.

"Odd." Mavin stated to nobody but went in. She stood frozen, - attack of the not-so-innocent snowflakes. Only, there weren't any. The place however, was thrashed beyond recognition.

The tall butch didn't wait to absorb anything. She bounded for the bedroom, only to find more of the same mess. Clothes flung everywhere, the furniture all in complete disarray with pieces of broken glass littering the floor.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mavin whispered in wonderment, "Bellinda!" She called, though it was very clear there'd be no response.

Maybe she had a party. No, that couldn't be it. There were no paper plates on the floor. Moreover the place was literally turned upside down. Then it hit her, like Mack truck to the side of her temple. The stupid prank caller and his vague message; Bellinda was in trouble and yet...somehow, she didn't believe it.

"Shit!" Mavin spat as she realized her phone was in the car. She melted the soles of her shoes running out of the apartment and this time, the elevator went without consideration. The dark butch jumped down flights of stairs, almost tumbling a few times. Her mind, a mix of confusion, panic and rage, all fueled by adrenaline.

She got to the car and reached for her phone. She switched it on and was about to speed dial Bella when a call came in. Mavin answered it knowingly.

"You've yet to answer my question." Mavin said, her breadth heaving.

"So I have your attention now?" The voice said wickedly.

"Where is she?" Mavin said each word slowly.

"She is safe, but not for long."

"What do you want with her?" Mavin growled, holding her tongue even as she did.

"Tomorrow at noon, - Star Breeze Theatre. Book a ticket for the first show at 1pm. Come alone." The voice said in a deadly serious tone.

"Wait a -" Mavin began, but the line was dead. She hit the redial button but got a garbled message about how the number she dialed didn't exist.

She felt a cold chill run through her. What could they possibly want? And who were 'they' to begin with? José's murderers seemed ripe suspects but why go for Bellinda?

It was all so surreal. Phbt! And she was supposed to wait 'til noon tomorrow.

"Oh, you picked the wrong butch to fuck with." Mavin muttered under her breath as the wheels in her head turned. A few conclusions were drawn; first of all, Mavin Bright did not wait for anyone, let alone wait while the woman she loved was at risk of being tortured or killed. Wait a minute 'loved'?

"Yes, yes, yes...I'm in...love." Mavin said aloud for the first time in years. She may've admitted it to Bellinda, but she hadn't completely reckoned that fact with herself. Only now, she had her work cut out for her.

She drove to the nearest phone booth and called a number she didn't even know she remembered.

"The number you have dialed does not exist. Please check your number and try your call again later." The recorded message played over and over.

"A stitch in time." Mavin said when the message played a fifth time.

"Saves you from walking around in rags." The soft feminine voice broke in, "How's it going?"

"Pyro!" Mavin sighed with relief, "Damn babe, I need a favor."

"You're not doing me one by calling me from a payphone at this time of the year."

"Come on baby, I'm lonely." Mavin rolled her eyes.

"Nope, say it."

"Pyro..." Mavin said in a warning tone.

"No say it or I hang up and scramble my digits."

"Aight, aight..." Mavin relented, taking a deep cold breath, "I'm sorry for calling you from a payphone at this time of the year."

"Now see, that wasn't so hard. Apology accepted. What do you want, I am a busy femme."

"I need to track someone down." Mavin said after a short pause.

"And a PI wouldn't have been easier?" 

"This is serious babe, deadly serious. A PI might come in handy later but not right now. I need you Pyro."

"I know you do." The voice sighed.

"Come on Pyro." Mavin clutched the phone.

"Fine, fine, ugh Mavin, you always do this. But whatever, what's the name."

"Are you really gonna do this while I'm standing in the cold at a payphone?"

"That was your choice Mave. I'm warm and cozy here."

"Tell me where you are." Mavin lowered her voice, to sound gentle.

"You know I can't do that. It's against the rules." Pyro replied tiredly, as though they went through this every day.

"Can we bag the rules? This is no time for..." Mavin growled in anger, knowing she was fighting a lost cause. "Bellinda Ross." She relented.

"The Bellinda Ross of the Illusions Modern Art Gallery?" Pyro said with some level of amazement.

"Yes, that's her." Mavin said slowly, suspicious of Pyro's quick analysis.

"Wow, she's like a guru in the art world. She recently did this painting called 'Essence' that's like wet panties all around."

"You know, I think there's more to it than that, Pyro." Mavin said as a shiver derailed her thoughts.

"Well, I'll make an exception. Are you gonna tell me why you're looking for her?"

"Not unless I can tell you to your face."

"Hmm, why Doc, you propose an interesting bargain. Got your ware?"

"Yeah." Mavin said, with a hint of relief.

"Okay, hang up. You'll hear from me in about 10 minutes."

"Aight cool." Mavin hung up the line without ado and boarded her car.

She drove home, tempted to check her PDA for the message that Pyro would send, but decided she would be better off in her apartment, warm and mildly sane. By the time Mavin arrived at her place, the message from Pyro had already arrived as well.

Mavin settled down with her laptop, only bothering to remove her jacket as she proceeded to access the message. She pulled up the message and read the note from Pyro:

"Like I said, I'm only making an exception and thus, you'll still have to do some work. The info you need is encrypted in the following attachment. Run it and you'll know what to do. Enjoy."




Just Juxtapose



"Typical Sian, very typical." Mavin shook her head and clicked a button to run the program. She scanned it through her decoder and after a 20-minute wait, the message was descrambled. She had Pyro's address. She copied it to memory and then deleted the message. That was followed by a system sweep to make sure the message was gone. It was protocol. The tall butch was sure Pyro would be hacking into her systems later to make sure the info wasn't there. The importance of privacy was something Mavin understood well.

**********

It was about 3am and Mavin's nerves were beyond shot. The systemic assault from adrenaline wreaked havoc on her body. Her temples were throbbing in time to a ghastly cadence that spelled a brutal migraine. Now wasn't the time for paralyzing headaches but her body didn't function by reason.

The dark butch kept her eyes glued to the weather-fucked road and fought the urge to pinch her eyes shut and slam her head into the steering wheel. She pulled into the area listed on the address and made a habitual survey of her surroundings. The wind was mind-numbingly cold, lashing obscenely through her clothes and penetrating her skin. Huge gulps of air meant to soothe her only made her throat dry and scratchy. She coughed a few times and tried to keep the moisture in her mouth.

The location she sought was right in front of her. An old, abandoned building that probably should've been torn down ages ago. Instead, it stood gauchely amidst other renovated buildings, like a gatekeeper of some sort. Mavin took it all in out of habit; a way to distract herself from her situation, from her head. But she didn't bother stepping onto the curb. She just waited and soon enough, an unmarked van with darkened window pulled up to her. Just like old times.

The door of the van slid open and Mavin got in, without a word. She found a comfortable seat and leaned back into it. The van stayed in motion for about 30 minutes, before stopping. Shortly after, the door slid open again. Mavin eyed the figure wearily, as she moved to get out of the vehicle. In her dazed vision, she caught a glimpse of the dark brown eyes, with winter-glazed flecks of amber. Mavin blinked a few times and steadied herself.

"You're alright?" The voice asked, with some concern.

"I don't know." Mavin heard herself say.

"Come with me."

"Well, anything else defeats the purpose Maniac." Mavin retorted with a hint of sarcasm as she followed the person through the small, darkened lot. Glad she was wearing her jacket, the wind howled through the place, screaming past her sensitive ears. Mavin turned her collar up.

"You haven't changed a bit Mave." Maniac said without looking at the dark butch.

"Yeah, I was starting to wonder why I keep hearing that." Mavin said through gritted teeth, her head felt like it was being crushed under its own weight.

"For a while now, Sian's been expecting to hear from you." Maniac said casually as they turned into a shaft way.

Mavin didn't say anything. She couldn't, because they were just out of the shaft when Sian appeared at the end. The same amber speckled, brown eyes laid on her for the second time this morning and yet, the first. The tall butch stopped in her tracks, and contemplated her next move. She wasn't sure about the expression on Sian's face. It was severe in its intensity, a mix of relief and dread. Which was more, Mavin couldn't tell.

"Well, here you are." Sian said slowly, her voice as soft and camouflaging as Mavin remembered. The raven haired woman moved closer to Mavin.

"It's good to see you Sian." Mavin said, being utterly truthful.

"I can say the same, but the season doesn't permit." Sian replied, no hint of malice. She reached Mavin and stood toe to toe with her, slipping her slender arms around Mavin's waist, caressing her as though this was something they did every day. She was an inch or two shy of Mavin's height but nonetheless, she still had a commanding presence. "I have some information for you."

"Well, I can trust that." Mavin said flatly and gently pulled herself away from the not-so-necessary stimulation.

"Alright are we'll set?" Sam aka Maniac stated, as she went up to her station to monitor the tracer program she'd been working on.

"Your cell, we'll need that." Sian stated, in a casual tone that flowed like milk over cereal.

"Sure." Mavin reached into her pocket to get the device. To her surprise, it wasn't there.

"I got it Mave." Sian said, with the phone dangling from fingertips.

"You're slick." Mavin grinned at the raven-haired woman.

"You didn't think I was coming on to you, did you?" Sian asked in the same soft tone that never failed to confuse the dark butch.

"Sian, this is very serious." Mavin replied, catching herself on the brink of hypnosis.

"SIAN, GET OVER HERE!!!" Sam hollered from her station.

Sian let out a sigh. This all was such bad timing. She eyed Mavin for a beat and with a lick of her lips, turned in the direction of her sister's voice.

Mavin stood her ground, though she was unsure of her next move. She didn't plan on wasting any time to find Bellinda, especially after what happened to José. 'And what happened to José?' Her own mind mocked her. 'A hole in the head, a blink and you're dead.' Mavin swallowed hard as her vision blurred. 

"You're coming or not?" Sian's silky voice pierced the dark woman's reverie, intoxicating her. Mavin allowed her eyes to wander; the earthy passage way, the vapor of her own breath flowing in the cold, the back of Sian's boot-clad legs, the back of Sian's thighs, her ass.

"I have to find her Sian." Mavin said frowning, her body suddenly consumed by her wrath, and a sense of guilt that'd become all too familiar.

"Okay, then. But I know I'm not getting the whole story." Sian began again.

"I think she's being held for ransom and I've been called to deal at noon tomorrow, - well, later today." Mavin said quickly.

Sian nodded, her dark hair tossing lightly about her shoulders. Bad-ass timing as always, she thought fleetingly; she hadn't seen the tall butch in years.

"You're still here?" Sam bounded towards them "...You know, I actually have better things to do."

"What do you have?" Sian asked just as they all moved through the rest of the shaft.

It led to a wider hallway which had the organic smell of deep earth. Mavin looked around and was mildly relieved that there weren't any crawlers nearby. Just as that thought left her, the odor morphed into that of damp concrete, telling of manmade structure. It was a pseudo-crypt of some sort with slightly polished walls and artificial lightning.

A few more steps through the fairly long hall, and Mavin stepped into a familiar world. Hey eyes lit up as she washed her gaze over the studio-sized space filled with all sorts of technoware. To simply say 'computers' would be a devastating understatement. However, to the untrained eye it was possible to gleam that even NASA and all the government agencies put together didn't have a speck of dust on these two, - Pyro and her twin, Maniac.

Mavin actually met them in the last place anyone would expect, which for the kind of work they did, wasn't so unusual. She's been in Nagele, a small town in Ethiopia doing some independent research for her college thesis paper. As it was her habit to do, she immersed herself in the area and made it a point to get to know the locals. Information was valuable and having it in a language she could understand was even more so. 

She's been scouting for an interpreter whom she could at least trust for the time being. But as always in third world countries, politics and decent ethics are often absolute polar opposites. A mugging during a short day-tour, had left her hopelessly stranded without her valuable possessions by Lake Abaya, several miles from where she began.

And as though life thoroughly enjoyed fucking with her, she'd wandered about, lost for two days when she literally ran into a couple of seriously tanned Caucasians. She wasn't surprised, but for the fact that they actually seemed to know what they were doing in such a remote location. They offered to help her only because they figured by the way she looked that she wasn't out to rob them. Then they'd laughed themselves red when she explained that she'd been mugged by her translator, who had planned with six or more other individuals to ambush her on a tour.

The whole encounter had seemed surreal. The two introduced themselves to Mavin as Sam and Sian Connors. For the next two or three days that they spent there, Mavin got to know them a bit. They were technicians and were in the region to test equipment that was being built on contract for a client they couldn't mention. Though years later, the two came clean about their true endeavors; there hadn't been a client, they were really technicians – of the hacker variety, and they'd been in Ethiopia running tests on a new piece of technology they'd bartered off the underground market.

The memories faded into reality as the sleek shine of 21st century technology greeted her adrenaline-scorched eyes. The range of devices and wares seemed to split the room into quadrants. Two of them were fairly identical and the remaining two, completely different. Mavin immediately pinned the information down; the two look-alike workstations were as kempt as any multi-screened, multi-networked station would be, and the other two screamed of an inventor's garage.

Everything about the SamSian Twins was laid out bare, - classic geeks with modern style. Mavin's jaw hung open as she lost herself for a moment with the techno-geek in her.

"Nothing yet, hand me the cell." Sam walked by her sister who tossed her the device. "You've had contact?" Sam asked in Mavin's direction, waving to a comfy looking chair nearby.

"Yeah," Mavin nodded, taking the seat while Sian moved to her station, fingers flying over the keyboard in a frenzy that'd put many finger-fuckers to shame. "Fucking bastard ruined my Xmas eve."

"So who do you think might be running this?" Sam asked eagerly, as she placed the phone on a metal plate and pushed a green button nearby. A set of green lasers showered the phone and a few seconds later the computer chirped a single confirmation, "No bugs."

Mavin felt the sense of relief again and before she could assess it, she dozed off into a shallow coma, leaving the pyromaniac duo to their work.

*******

"I'm worried, we haven't heard from her in hours." Becca snuggled in close to her husband. They'd finally worn each other out and were trying to catch some time on the sleep train before the girls woke up.

"You know how she is." Zeke replied, not wanting to discuss his sister now. "She's gonna feel smothered if we decide to bug her now, besides it's almost dawn. I'm sure she's not waiting to call now."

"Well maybe, but she did leave here in a rush. Do you think something is up...with her and Bellinda, I mean?"

Zeke groaned and spooned his wife, "Baby, she's gonna do whatever she wants, and until she tells us, it's not for us to worry too much about."

"Zeke, she's not getting any younger and I'd like to see her happy and settled." Becca turned to face him.

"I know honey, but I've known Mavin my whole life, and I can say without a doubt that she'll do what makes her happy and if you wait around for her to please you, it won't happen unless you choose to be happy for her no matter what she's up to."

"Well, I like that she's up to the redhead. They're good together."

"I think so too, but baby, let's save it 'til later, I'm wiped." Zeke eyed the bedside clock; it was just past 5am.

"Hmmm, okay." Becca smiled and kissed him, "I love my present baby. It'll be great for when you travel."

"Ha! I'm sure baby. That's why it's molded after the original; you'll never have to miss it unless you want to."

"Well, I'm missing it right now." Becca's voice dropped like cream in coffee.

"Oh fuck!" Zeke had to grin as Becca rolled onto him and proceeded to stroke him to attention. "I've created a monster."

"Yes, it's right out of your wildest dreams." Becca's body suddenly found energy seemingly from thin air, "I promise you a good time baby, just relax."

Zeke thought he saw a grin that was just too evil on his wife's face but as her hot lips wrapped around his member, his eyes closed and he just had to ignore everything. Soon, his groans filled the room and Becca was all too happy to hear him.

****************

Somewhere deep down, she'd been hoping for a vision of clues but her dreams were of abstract impressions and designs. Her brain organized itself for the next bout of drama, providing her a theatre of celestial nonsense to occupy her senses while it recuperated.

"Mavin...!" The voice sounded warped; echoing in the recesses of her mind. She was too distracted by the sea of intense hues and almost frightening colors. The kinds you either saw when you were tripping on 'cid or about to die. She felt herself smirking, waiting for the proverbial tunnel of light.

"...Mavin!" She got a loud shout instead. Her eyes flew open into a duller, blurred view. The wild colors were gone and a familiar palette harsh grays and dead blues marred her vision.

"What?" She croaked as she blinked to clear her eyes.

"Two things," It was Sian, looking the same as she did before, "Breakfast and we found something."

"What time is it?" Mavin stretched a little; she didn't have to turn to know her neck was badly cramped.

"It's 0600." Sam said, plopping down next to Mavin, totting a sandwich.

"What did you find?" Mavin replied, she'd only slept a few hours and felt like she'd been run over by a Mack truck.

"The call number doesn't exist in the region." Sian answered, pinching a piece of her sister's sandwich.

"Meaning what?" Mavin rubbed her neck,

"They could've come from anywhere." Sam munched.

"That's normal." Mavin leaned back into her seat, desperately seeking relief from her neck.

"Not like this, it's not. See if we called the number back, we should get some kind of destination. You know, a payphone, a rigged phone, a cell, a radio tower, and so on. But we got a blank point." Sian explained.

"What like an undefined function?" Mavin's eyebrows jumped.

"Even worse, we can't pin an origin." Sam dusted crumbs from her mouth.

"Well, what if we try to intercept the call?" The dark butch palmed her head.

"Way ahead of you Mavin," Sian said, "We'll bug your cell with a 3-second passive transmission delay so we can monitor the peripheral channels before and after each call."

"And don't worry, we know you only get calls from about five people, and the kidnapper's one of 'em." Sam chuckled and nudged the dark butch.

"Just do what you have to and get me an aspirin or something." Mavin was fit to bark.

"Tsk tsk, be nice Mave. Your cell will be set in about half an hour. Do you want any breakfast?" Sam asked while Sian went off to dismantle the cell phone on her workbench.

"Fuck you." Mavin groaned as her head spun. "What happened to the midtown crib?"

"If you remember it then you know why we had to leave." Sam said as she dropped a bottle of aspirin in Mavin's lap, "It was getting too hot and we've since moved to another location. This place is just where we work."

"Right, y'all spend your holidays hacking?"

"Well, it is the busiest time of the year. You know how it is."

"I guess so." Mavin swallowed two pills and drank them down with the water Sam had provided. "So how've you been hanging?"

"Pretty good, we had a raid a few months back and so we had to beef up our shit to the nth degree."

"I see." Mavin closed her eyes.

"And you, what've you been up to?"

"You don't know?" Mavin smiled, "I thought y'all had pinned me to your radar."

"No, but we've been watching her though."

Immediately the words left Sam delectable lips, Mavin found herself back in that place she'd hoped to never see again. She sighed deeply and opened her eyes.

"How is she?" Mavin asked and wasn't really sure why.

"Not so good. She stayed in the business for about 3 years but it was never the same. She's getting married next year, committing to unhappiness."

"Phbt! Figures she would." Mavin shifted in her seat.

"Well, she tried to kill you. And after all this time, she knows you're not dead but she doesn't try to make things right." Sam said and moved to straddle Mavin.

"Somehow, I don't think she's all in the wrong. I mean, I don't even really know what happened that night and the only other witness is –"

"Dead." Sam interrupted as she took a comfortable seat in Mavin's lap.

"WHAT?!?" Mavin gripped Sam by the shoulders.

"Cancer, I thought you knew." Sam whispered, genuinely shocked by the outburst.

"Oh shit!" Mavin was at a severe loss for words. "Shit, shit fuck!"

"I'm sorry, I honestly thought you knew." Sam pressed closer to the butch and took Mavin's face in her palm. She saw the tears forming there.

"Sam, I need to be alone right now." Mavin said, closing her eyes and sealing the tears in.

"Sure, the exit shaft is that way; you walk it a few times if you want." Sam pulled herself off Mavin, "Damn, how did you not know."

Mavin didn't respond, instead, she moved toward the shaft and walked slowly through it. She was on the verge of tears; her anger was simply beyond control. She felt almost as helpless as she did when she was 5. She was practically choking on guilt and yet, it wasn't time for her to cry. So she punched the wall, sending a clean crack through it. And one through her right hand. She bit down the urge to howl and gripped her broken hand. But the pain, like everything else she was felt was just too much. So she screamed, starting with a deep growl and rising higher and higher until her scarred cords failed to make any sound at all.

****************

"You know I'm beyond thrilled that you've accepted this offer. Your presence in H&B will be an invaluable asset to the growth and progress of the company."

"Kurt, come on. You made an exciting offer. I'd have been crazy to refuse."

"Well Eva, I'll have to agree. But again, think you."

"Oh I should be thanking you."

"Well, how about a toast?"

"Okay."

"To a new friendship and a bright future, on the horizon, - and beyond; Welcome Eva Wilson." Kurt raised his glass with a smile. The rest of the room applauded.

"Thank you." Eva nodded and clinked glass with her newest associate as well as the eight other member of the H&B board of direction. She accepted the congratulatory handshakes and pleasantries with a gracious smile.

She'd flown all the way to Seattle for the meeting and the introductory mumbo-jumbo that would follow as she was integrated into the new atmosphere. Her work would be for the most part, in Washington D.C. but every now and then she'd have to make trips to Seattle, where the new H&B research headquarters was located. Her position in H&B would be a board director with more money than her last job. Eva had nothing against money.

All that considered, Eva was excited; she'd have a prominent role in the company and ultimately a more advantageous position in respect to her career. She'd call a few members of her family to tell them the good news but none except her sister would understand the significance the way Mavin would. However, she already knew Mavin's stand on the matter and at the same time, she didn't understand it.

Anyway, it wasn't like Mavin had laid a better job down to replace this one if she'd refused it. Besides, who was she working for anyway; herself or Mavin? Eva decided, she would stay and enjoy the experience at H&B as best she could. Mavin's opinion be damned.

After a few more hours of schmoozing and smiling, Eva returned to her weekend penthouse suite with a new assignment that was to begin right away.




Just Juxtapose



*************

"Everything is under control General, I assure you."

"Doesn't look like it. What I see, is shear lack of discipline. Make no mistake, if your ass winds up on the grill, I'll be the one cookin' it. I suggest you tighten things up from here on out."

"I know General. Have some faith, or a shot of whiskey is you like."

"What I'll have is a quiet retirement without a 12 by 4 cell anywhere near it."

"General Montgomery, have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"

"You don't want me to answer that!"

"Oh come on, this..."

"Good day!"

Kurt Pryce heard the line cut off and with a small gesture, hung up his own end of the line.

"Every dog gets his day." He said aloud to no one, reaching for a small box, "And every General gets his funeral." He smiled as he picked out a cigar and clipped off the end.

His dealings with General Montgomery had only intensified since A.J. had screwed up his end of the job. And what was Pryce after? Control and power; he'd always been. He'd originally intended to buy out the highly reputable research facility but it turned out that certain ties held stronger than his money could break.

It had been Morris' job to break those ties but the short, pompous piece of overqualified shit-stirrer had neglected to sever said ties. Instead, he'd made them stronger.

Nonetheless, all was not lost. He picked up his phone again and dialed behind a cloud of cigar smoke. 

"Hello?" The call reached its destination and the other person answered.

"It's me, call the senator." Was all Kurt had to say, he never had too many pleasantries for anyone who irked him as much as the person he was speaking to.

"I think that'll dangerous territory, we're yet to ascertain the benefit of our current endeavor."

"Well, I don't remember asking you for an opinion but as a piece of advice your mother failed to give you; it's always good to have many options."

"Say what you will about my mother, but this isn't a good option."

"Yet, you'll do it with a smile even if you have to paint one on." Kurt said and hung up the line. He puffed on the cigar to get the taste of the conversation out of his mouth. He leaned back into his chair, - control and power. He prepared himself for the receiving gesture; the motion that occurred when you reached out for something. The initial flex of muscles and tendon before your fingers closed and you withdrew, prize in hand.

*********** Later that day in New York ***********

"Why isn't she answering?"

"A part of me wants to know, the other part's already disgusted."

"Grrr! Call her again!!"

Joann stomped through Bellinda's office, wondering where the hell her red haired friend had disappeared to. There was a shit load of work to be done for the New Year show and here they were, chickens without heads.

Construction at Illusions was well underway. Frames, support beams and light racks were being installed among a host of other structures.

"Shit!" Adam snapped, "Do you think she's with Mavin?"

"I dunno the status on those two, but it's very possible." Joann said with a groan. She was helping Adam, answering the gazillion calls that kept pouring in.

"Hmm...Looks like we'll never know." Adam sighed as he put someone else on hold.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Joann was pacing.

"I don't have Mavin's number on file, anywhere?" Adam threw on a quick smile as one of the carpenters shoved a sheet of paper at him. It was a list of needed supplies. He wasn't exactly authorized to sign out supply budgets but Bellinda wasn't around.

"Great, just what I need." Adam sighed as he signed the slip. Bellinda would just have to deal.

"You mean Mavin never called her?" Joann asked, scrolling through the rolodex on Bellinda's table.

"Does she realize that she hasn't finished her own paintings? This is no time to go dirty dancing." Adam ramble in his own world.

"What about her office, did you try there?"

"Hi you've reached the IMAG, how may I help you?" Adam's cookie cutter greeting escaped his lips. "You have an appointment with Miss Ross for 2pm today?....I see....Well, I'm sorry but there's a small scheduling conflict and we'll have to move the appointment back....No, I can't give you a time frame but I can guarantee a personal call from her to confirm your appointment....No problem....Thank you very much and have a lovely day." Adam groaned as he ended the call. "I'm about 2 minutes away from ripping the lines outta that phone."

"How the hell can you guarantee a personal call, when she's not here?" Joann's eyes went wide.

"I'm banking on the probability that she'll be done fucking before the New Year."

"Oh whatever, call Mavin's office and see if she's there or if anyone there knows where she is." Joann rolled her eyes.

"Would they even be open this time of the year?"

"Just try, maybe you can get a directory." 

"Okay, hang on." Adam dialed Lecter Corp. "I'm getting a recorded message, what does she do again?" Adam eyed Joann.

"She's some kinda engineer or something."

"I can't believe how little we know about her." Adam said exasperatedly.

"Keep trying." Joann flung her arms up in surrender and scurried to Bellinda's desk as another call came in.

"Miss Ross' office, can I take a message?" Joann asked and began to scribble down a note.

************* Meanwhile *************

Mavin paced back and forth in her office. She was there for a couple of reasons. The first was official; she'd come to bundle up her reports for the next conference that was scheduled for the post holiday season, sometime in January. The second reason was personal. She wanted space and time to preoccupy herself and not count the hours to noon or imagine the dastardly acts she would commit against Bellinda's assailants.

Nevertheless, Lecter Corp. wasn't completely closed for the holidays. It remained opened for resident workaholics, security staff and custodians. There were maintenance contractors working in the facility as well as federal investigators who were still trying to decipher the mystery of José's murder. A few suspects had been apprehended but Mavin had declined to know who they were; she didn't want to know until there was utmost certainty about the killer's identity.

The dark woman paced, her body rippling with unstable energy. Even to herself, she was unpredictable. Her emotions were highly combustible, and to worsen her state of mind, she couldn't distinctly separate them. Her head pounded with force of blood rushing through her temples. She was thinking and simultaneously trying not to.

The whole idea was absurd to her. And then it struck her, what if the kidnappers were holding Bellinda for ransom from her father? He was a senator and a very important one too, being the chairman of the Health Education Labor and Pension (HELP) committee.

"Damnit!" Mavin fumed releasing a small amount of steam, though not enough as she reached for the phone and made a last consideration on whether or not to be the bearer of bad news. She wondered if Bellinda's father knew she was missing. Just as her hand kissed the phone, a call rang through. She hesitated for a moment and then answered.

"Hello, you've reached Lecter Corp. These are non-business hour so what do you want?" Her voice rumbled with a threatening force.

"Hello...Mavin?" The other voice sounded familiar, "It's Joann."

"Joann..." Mavin heaved a sigh, "Odd time to call my office."

"Yes, I know. Very sorry to disturb, but there's an odd situation I'm hoping you might be able to help me with."

"Okay, shoot." Mavin sat on the edge of her desk. She glanced at the clock; it was thirty-seven minutes to noon.

"Well, I was wondering if you know where Bellinda is. She's gone AWOL and we're sorta going nuts here."

Mavin though her options through for a second. If she told Joann the truth, she'd only be spreading panic. If she didn't, Joann would find Bella's apartment and figure something was amiss, and then panic anyway. Perhaps she should have someone clean up the place a bit. But that'd be tampering with likely evidence.

"Joann, I don't know where B is, but if you hear from her, tell her I'm looking for her." Mavin squeezed in a few truths.

"Oh, wow. Okay." Joann had been hoping for more. "Well, thanks...I guess."

"Bye Joann." Mavin said and hung up. She grabbed her coat and left the building.

*************

"What did she say?" Adam sucked the tip of his fingers.

"She hung up on me." Joann shook her head.

"What?!"

"No. I mean, she said she has no idea where Bellinda is, and that I should tell the girl that Mavin's looking for her."

"Perfect! Per-fucking-fect!!" Adam banged his desk in frustration.

It was going to be a long day.

***************

The city whizzed by in a flurry of black-iced roads and frost-grey building scraping against dark, clouded skies. Some fucking Xmas this was turning out to be. Her audio system blasted something from Linkin Park, but she wasn't really paying attention to anything but the road. The distraction was what she needed.

Mavin stopped at a light and rubbed her gloveless hands together. She glanced around the intersection and then opened her glove compartment. She pulled out a Beretta 96 and inspected it. She tucked it into her shoulder holster and made a right turn toward the Star Breeze Theater. She parked a block away and got out to walk. Just as she stepped onto the curb of the theater, her cell rang. It was the same caller.

"Head to Plaza Park; the bench with the old lady getting up." The voice said succinctly, and then cut the line.

Mavin added a spring to her pace. She was tempted to run but that would draw too much attention to her. She settled for walking briskly, as fast as her long legs could carry her. The plaza was a mall of malicious magnitude, at least to its competitors. It was the kind of shopping mega-center that doubled as the 'middle of town' even though it wasn't anywhere near the middle of town. The entire complex was abuzz with the impressive throng of last-minute shoppers, shifting with the amount of hurry last-minute shopping allowed.

For no reason other than sensory overload; Mavin harbored an intense dislike for such crowded places. She found herself zoning out, locking all her senses on nothing whenever she was tagging along with anyone. In a nutshell, she always got the 'lost in wonderland' feeling and she hated it; wonderland be damned.

Frantic shoppers breezed by her as she made her way to the small pseudo-park. She turned a wide corner and the park loomed just a few paces away. It was packed with children and their keepers who stood nearby. There were security officials present making rounds in between small talk. Beyond the multitasking guards were the resting shoppers, adding coffee breaks to their shopping lists. And of course, there were the wannabe Santa's.

The scent of fresh pastries and creamy beverages polished the atmosphere with warmth. Mavin breathed deeply and allowed her eyes to scan the place again. And there she was, the old lady getting off her seat, as though she'd been paid to. Out of habit, Mavin glanced at her watch and noted fifteen minutes past noon.

She walked slowly to the vacated bench and sat down. The holster hugged her body, comforting her. Not long after, someone else joined her. The scent was purely Channel and out of the corner of her eyes, Mavin could see the pair of smooth, stocking-covered legs. She swallowed hard. Sometimes, her body and mind were on two different frequencies. Mavin kept her gaze on her shoes.

"You seem nervous, does my presence bother you?" The voice was undeniably feminine and British but the timbre was smack-dab bedroom.

"That's an odd thing to say to someone you barely know." Mavin replied, ignoring the question altogether.

"Well, my name is Selene and you are Mavin, so were not strangers after all."

Mavin turned to look at the woman. She'd done away with underestimating people since high school; in fact, she'd done away with judging people beyond the inevitable first impression. But this here was over the top.

"Why are you here?" Mavin asked, wanting to cut to the chase.

"I'm here to help you." Selene replied, her dark blonde hair bouncing lightly in a cascade down her shoulders.

"Well, you're not helping by wasting my time." Mavin spat, "Who sent you?"

"Oh, don't be so testy, my employer has a proposal for you and I'm here to deliver it." Selene shifted closer to the dark butch, leaning over Mavin's chest to whisper in the ear farthest from her. "So, are you interested?"

"In what?" Mavin felt the heat rising from the woman's exposed neck.

"The proposal, of course." Selene pulled herself back from the dark butch.

"Fine, let's have it." Mavin said, getting impatient and not wanting to cause a scene.

"Hmm, you realize there're children about?" Selene smiled, she was enjoying herself.

"Aight then, I'm outta here." Mavin got up to leave, "It's too early for games."

"She's in danger." Selene did not get up. She combed her fingers through her hair and kept her eyes on Mavin.

"And I suppose you think this shit is funny?" Mavin leaned into Selene and snarled, only because she was biting down her anger, - and something else.

"No, I actually don't. But you are taking this all much too seriously." Selene got up and rose to her full height, which, - thanks to her stilettos, came to be about Mavin's height. 

Mavin just glared at the woman whose dark brown eyes threatened to disarm her; they seemed to be feasting on her.

"Come, let us go somewhere more private," Selene uttered after a long moment of gaze-raping the dark butch. She'd pictured Mavin's features dripping with something, glowing softly with a wet sheen. That led to other mental concoctions, dominated by primal screams and spiked whips.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know who's behind the fucking charade!" Mavin was beyond furious.

"There isn't mush time to waste playing charades dear." Selene snapped in a tone that sucked the air out of Mavin's lungs, "Follow me." She commanded as Mavin eyed her all the more fiercely. Her rage mounted higher, if that was possible.

They walked out of the plaza. It was a much shorter trip that Mavin remembered. Selene walked a step ahead of Mavin. She played to the butch's weakness for women in every way; with a subtle flourish of her hips as she walked and tension in her calves as she balanced on her sharp heels. Mavin's throat went dryer and dryer with each step. By the time they got out of the mall, she was practically choking. The cold air whipped ferociously outside the plaza. Mavin didn't bother pulling her jacket close. She was already overheating.

"My car is that way." Selene stated as she walked through the frosty lot. 

"Don't worry, I'll let you drive." Selene smirked just as a call came in. She swiveled her hips and turned her back to Mavin. They kept walking while Selene spoke.

"Hello?" The tailored skirt gave her slick, femme-fatale look that no doubt caught Mavin's wayward attention. "We're getting to it, just a detail." The call ended with just that and Selene spun on her heels. "Here we are, come on Mavin. It'll all be over so-..." Her voice fell short in her throat as Mavin grabbed her by the neck.

The tall butch spun Selene around and pushed her into the car, setting off the alarm. Mavin pulled her gun and moved in close, pointing it to Selene's head. Somehow, in the force of the moment, Mavin found herself pressed close to the woman. She did a quick pat-down that sent thrills through her body even though her mind wasn't registering them. She picked out the woman's cell and fiddled with it to find the most recent number. It was the same as the one on her cell.

Mavin contemplated this bit of info and felt Selene wiggling against her body. Mavin cocked the gun and pressed it harder against the woman's head but that only encouraged her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mavin asked, flabbergasted in more ways than one.

"Exactly what you want." Selene said with a moan and pressed herself back into Mavin.

Mavin stepped back and eyed the bitch standing eye to barrel with her gun.

"Why do you look surprised? I know you want me." Selene licked her lips. Mavin watched the vapors rising around both of them.

"NO!" Mavin rushed forward and grabbed the woman again, harder. "You'll tell me who that was on the phone and maybe I won't kill you right here."

"Hmm...Release me." Selene whispered as her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Shut up!" Mavin pressed the gun against the woman's neck, noting the indentations that were marked by a quick flush of blood beneath the pale skin.

"Please..." Selene whispered again, despite Mavin's tight grip on her neck.

Now it was all just too much to fucking bear. She didn't want anything with this bitch but here she was; a gesture away from fucking her. She hadn't been expecting to pull her gun, but as with so many things in the last 48 hours, Mavin felt her control slipping beyond the bare minimum. She'd been biting down her emotions for too long a time and her mind was buckling under the weight of it all. But hell, that only fueled the disjointed, irrationality of her actions. Her body too voiced its cravings and Mavin just had to be, Mavin.

"You have one last chance..." Mavin trailed off as her senses overloaded and more of her control slipped. 

"Take me." Selene pulled Mavin closer, raising her thigh around Mavin's waist and hooking her legs to the back of Mavin's thigh. The sharp pointed heel, dug in just a little bit.

No, no, no, no! The remnants of her rational mind screamed, but Mavin was too far gone. She needed the release and didn't care anymore if they standing a few feet away from the main lot, or that it was early in the afternoon and it'd begun to snow.

"Don't fight it, I promise it'll be worth your while." Selene egged her on in a tone that seemed designed specifically to hypnotize the butch.

Mavin breathed deeply and blinked. The snowflakes came fluttering down; each one giving her cold kisses against her hot flesh. Every kiss, a stinging reminder of the guilt to be, yet the situation was aimed at relief from the guilt she already felt. In a small gesture, Mavin tucked the gun away; sliding it into its holster with one hand. Her other hand stayed in place at Selene's neck. Selene's body undulated against hers even as Mavin drew her hand back up to peel open the blouse Selene wore, and touch the heated skin.

"Ah!" Selene gasped; Mavin's thick hands were cold, so very cold. She moaned at the thought of where else she'd like them to be.

Mavin ran her fingers over the skin, liking it more than she should. It'd been a while. She kept her other hand on Selene's neck, pinning the woman where she was.

'Love Bellinda, need to get off. Need Bellinda, love to get off.' Her one-track mind struggled for balance. While her hand closed around a lace-covered breast. The roughness of the lace against her palm made her squeeze hard on the soft globe.

"Ughn!" Selene moaned and arched her back. This for her was all too thrilling. She'd been sent to seduce Mavin and was reaping the preliminary benefits.

Mavin squeezed and fondled the left breast, liking the texture. The tingling in her fingers made her want more. Her eyes burned with the mixture of salacious lust and brutally cold winds. But she didn't care, her vision was blurred and time seemed to stop. She felt trapped suddenly and her actions became frantic in an attempt to break free. 'Love Bellinda, need to get off. Need Bellinda, love to get off.' Mavin's head sang in spite of itself. She ran her fingers down the woman's torso and pulled up the skirt.

"Yes...yes." Selene panted in anticipation. She was hot and wet and at risk of being caught. But there was no one around to see them as the snow came down harder, pelting her face and exposed chest. She moved her arms up Mavin's shoulders, caressing the hard body.




Just Juxtapose



"Keep your hands to yourself." Mavin said coldly as she reached the place between Selene's thighs and ran a finger along the folds of flesh through the moist material. A current of electricity zigzagged up her spine and settled in her brain. She moved her fingers again, and it happened again.

"Or else what?" Selene teased, her mission forgotten for the moment.

Mavin didn't respond after that. She continued her exploration, still unsure of what she wanted out of it. 

"You should know; when all this is over, I won't spare your life." Mavin ripped the woman's thong aside.

***************

End of Chapter 6.

Chapter 7 is coming soon, so don't fret.