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The Sister Ch. 02

By: Horatio_Scot



I slept, thankfully dreamlessly, and awoke with a nuclear-powered migraine and smelling fresh coffee. I got up slowly, holding my head together with my hands as I shambled forward into the kitchen and downed two extra-strength Tylenol chased with two cups of scalding hot black coffee.

I sat on heavily on the folding chair for a few minutes, absorbing the heat of the cup into my hands, and letting the ibuprofen and caffeine chase my ills away before I cleaned the house. As I looked around, the house seemed little, well, cleaner than I remember. I frowned and stalked around the living room, and freaked a little when I couldn't find the nodachi I left standing against the wall, but found it back in the bedroom. Maybe Owen did clean up a little before he left.

I slipped on some pants on and after a moment's hesitation, stripped the sheets from the bed and bundled all the dirty clothes together in three bags, stacking them neatly by the door. After I drained the pool, put the last of the alcohol in the 'fridge, I grabbed my keys and puttered off to the local laundromat. An hour and a half later, I struggled through the door loaded with clean laundry.

"Here, let me help you with that." Ivy said.

"Sure, here." I said, handing her a bag before I did a double take, "Wait, what are you doing here?!"

"I let myself in."

"What? I locked the door!"

She grinned mischievously at me, "You gave Owen a key, remember?"

"I gave Owen the key. Does he know you're borrowing it?"

"Pretty much."

I gave her a very wry look, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping you clean. Did'ja like the coffee?"

"Yes, very nice; apartment all clean." You can go now, was left unsaid. Not that I was trying to be rude, but, well, I did nearly cut the head off her ex a few hours ago, after all. I'm surprised there wasn't a little awkwardness.

"And I wanted to thank you."

"You're welcome."

"By taking you out to eat."

Ugh. I felt nauseous just from hearing that. "Trust me, food is the last thing I want."

"Then how about something to drink?"

"No thanks."

"Then can I have some?"

"Sure, whatever." I said, sorting out my shirts and pants to hang, and and srting the rest out into three piles in the corner. Clean shirts, clean underwear, clean socks, everything else.

She bounced away and returned with one of my lagers. "So, um, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Sure, why do you ask?"

" 'Cause all the men that I've attracted are complete losers."

"Well, I guess there's only one thing to do."

"What?" She asked eagerly.

"Become a lesbian."

"Oh, ha-ha. Very funny."

"It would solve the problem."

"I'd probably attract loser girls."

"You don't know until you try." Ivy drank deeply from the bottle and gave me the finger. "Speaking of losers," I said, unperturbed, "you said you got your eye on a guy now, how do you know he's not a loser, too?"

"Oh, I know for sure."

"'Cause he's nice? Most losers are."

"I've known him for a while."

"Pah. People change. I should know."

"So why don't you have someone?"

"Pah. People change. I should know."

"That's not an answer."

"And it's not a question I'm going to answer."

"Why not?"

"Look, you're at the cusp of your life." I said, gesturing with my hand full of my underwear, "I'm a half-decade older, and a bitter husk of a man. Let's just leave it at that."

"Are you even looking?"

"Eh, not now." I said, and tossed the thing into the clean underwear pile in the corner.

"What if, say, a relationship dropped in your lap, would you refuse it?"

"Probably not. I'd have to be a fool not to."

Ivy took a pull from the bottle, then another, "Hey, I have an idea. A friend of mine is looking for a good time--"

I snorted and muttered, "Sounds like something scrawled on a bathroom wall."

"--Aaaand you don't have anything to do for the next two weeks. How about I give her a call, and you can take her to the movies or something." 

I rolled my eyes; I could only imagine someone she knows, and the image that came to me was someone terribly young, and terribly vapid. I probably have a more rewarding conversation with a barrel filled with cotton candy. "I dunno..."

"I'll make sure she's interesting."

"I've wanted to catch some movies at the box office lately..." I said dubiously.

"Great! I'll go call her right now!"

"Wait! You're going to call her now?!"

"Why not?"

I opened my mouth, finger pointing and ready to shake, ready to blurt out the first reason I could think of, and yet I stood silent for a minute, unable to think of anything.

"Yeah, I thought so. Thanks for the beer!" Ivy said brightly as she waved and bounced out of the room.

"Yeah, sure kid." I said, lightly massaging my temples. I think I've just been a victim of Ivy's march to the sea...

I changed the sheets of my bed, grabbed a book, set the lights low, and started some soft muzak. I figured I keep my stimulation low and soothing and the headache would pass sooner. Besides, the toilet was not less than ten feet away, easily covered at a run in case of problems. So I sat, wearing some pants I slipped on, sitting in bed, reading a book when Ivy bounced in and stopped suddenly at the door.

She stared at me for a minute before, "I didn't know you wore glasses."

I looked at her over my neon green half glasses perched on the end of my nose, "Reading glasses. I'm farsighted."

"Wha'cha reading?"

"Something light. You called?"

"Oh. Yes, she'll meet you at the theater at six. I'm going to help her get something for the date."

"Oh, wonderful. My heart leaps in joy already." I muttered, rolling my eyes, not too quickly however; I was still fighting back nausea. 

"Dress in something nice, okay?"

"I'll throw something together."

"Remember, six o'clock!"

"Yes, yes, six o'clock, in front of the theater, dress nice, close mouth while eating, don't pick my nose. What does she look like?"

"Huh?"

"So I can tell her apart."

"She, uh, a rose!" she extemporized quickly, "She'll wear a rose."

"Rose. Right. Anything else?"

"That's it. Thanks a whole lot."

"Eh." I said turning back to my book, "If I'm going to be shanghaied, I might as well enjoy the experience."

"I, uh, sure. I guess. I'm going to take off."

"Sure. Have fun." I said, waving desultorily.

Ivy smiled and bounced away, and after I heard the front door slam close, I put down my book and glanced at the clock. I had about six hours before I had to leave, and I didn't want to be all backed up when I went. I pushed the book aside and piled my reading glasses on top, piling the chain carefully up before I leaned over and opened a small plastic tupperware box and poured it out on my lap, and sorted it out. The tube of KY and the "realistic feeling" vagina went on one side, the other toys and items were flicked back into the box. I flipped on the tv and set the DVD to play the single porn movie I've ever bought. I thought it ironic that I could walk in and buy handcuffs, KY jelly, and the other sex toys with no problem but buying actual porn made me feel like I had a neon billboard flashing the word 'freak!' floating over my head.

The DVD featured a middle-aged woman with a body that was more plastic than flesh played a nun in a convent of twenty year old "school girls", who, one night was taken by a demon woman with a strap-on the length of her arm. As the busty nun shuddered and begged the demon to stop as the taller, even bustier demon pressed the nuns chest against the table and only pounded into her harder. As I watched the Demon "turn" the Nun into a latex-clad strap-on wielding succubus-nun by making her orgasm again and again until she surrendered her soul.

I kept the volume low, the walls and floors were thin after all, and gave a liberal squirt of KY into the sex toy, and on my cock, like it was some fleshy ice cream cone, and began fucking the toy as the scene changed to next morning. The now-succubus, swathed in the head to toe nun robes approaches the head Father, she gives him a cup of wine from her own hands. He begins to talk to her, sipping from the goblet, discussing some of the more promising students, then he starts tugging on his collar and squirming in his seat. The succubus's legs spread wider and wider apart as they talked, soon the door opened and a young woman walks in, sent there for punishment for "touching" herself. 

The father makes her sit on his desk and demonstrate why she was sent, soon the woman is naked and laying on the succubus on his desk, her hips humping up and down strongly driving the strap on brutally into herself as the succubus's hands, gripping her by the pigtails, forced her mouth deep on the father's cock choking her as she begged and wept as she kept pounding her pussy on the strap on, culminating in a screeching orgasm as the father sprays his load across both their faces. As the squeals reach their crescendo, my eyes flutter close and my cock pulses rapidly as I orgasm into the sex toy's vibrating plastic snatch. 

I sigh and press the toy to my pelvis, keeping the mess in as I hop into the bathroom and pull it off, washing the congealing goop from my crotch and toy quickly, which was rather irritating, I thought. If they could send a man to the moon, you'd think they'd be able to invent a self-cleaning sex toy. I dried myself and left the sex toy in the bathtub to air-dry. 

I shut the tv and DVD off with an irritated swipe and flopped back into bed. Well then. Thirty minutes wasted there, now what? Truth be told, I wasn't looking forward to the upcoming date at all. All I wanted to do is spend the first few days of my vacation being lazy, sleeping late, with the alarm clock left unplugged for two whole weeks of freedom. Sure, I wanted to go to a movie, there's been a small handful that I'd been meaning to watch for a while now, but I didn't exactly think I'd enjoy it with some vapid, giggling school girl at my side, and me forcing a smile and feigning politeness. Honestly, it sounded too much like work to me. Pah, I snorted and picked up my glasses and book, a little mortification is good for the soul, after all. 

I spent the rest of my time languidly reading my book, enjoying the feel of paper underneath my fingers until my watch beeped quietly at me, setting in motion the prerequisite cleaning and grooming that was necessary before a date. A lie by deed, I never tried so hard to groom myself and yet, even after I clean myself to the point of not having any scent, I splash myself with things that make me smell like an aromatic painter. Pleasant, granted, but on one level I wonder if I'm replacing one with another.

So, dressed in the clothes I go begging for job--ahem, I mean go to interviews in, I shut everything off and hopped on my bike, and thirty minutes later, I'm at the theater, standing outside the ticket booth, trying not to look bored, nor too enthusiastic for that matter. Five minutes pass and it becomes the appointed time, and nothing, then ten past the hour, then fifteen. 

At seventeen past the hour, Ivy appeared out of the crowd with a frown. "I'm so sorry, she didn't want to come at the last instant."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "And this is different from normal, how?" 

Ivy smiled and grabbed my hand, tugging me towards the counter, "You need to get out anyway. Let's catch a movie and dinner, and just pretend I'm your date." She moved downwind, sniffed delicately and smiled, "I like lilacs."

"I, uh, thanks." I said, off balance, oddly pleased.

Ivy smiled at me, dragging me semi-willing into the theater. The movie was hyped to be the next summer blockbuster, but I didn't think it was worth the seven seventy-five for the ticket. It was a two-dollar renter, at best. Ivy oohed and aahed, and seemed to enjoy it, so I guess she enjoyed it.

"That was pretty good." Ivy said, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a napkin as we walked outside, detouring around small groups of people talking. 

"It was okay. I didn't like the directing in the fight scenes."

"Oh?"

I smiled ruefully, "I'm a Hong Kong purist."

"Just what the hell does that mean?"

"Marital arts, even if it's fisticuffs, has it's own beauty to it. To incompletely show this art is, well, frankly disrespectful."

"The actors weren't that good at it, probably."

"Meh. Look at Neo, the fights were beautiful, and Keanu probably hadn't done a kata ever before that movie. No, I think it's a poor excuse to simulate excitement. Like a rule from horror applied to fighting."

"Huh. You wanna get something to eat?"

I thought about it for a second, "Sure, I can whip up something at home. Black eyed beans, cornbread, and some vegetable side dish." 

"I meant out. Want to eat something out? Like outside your home?"

I thought about it for a second, "I could go for some chinese. There's this great place down on Tenth."

"Is that where you normally take your dates?"

"Well, um, no."

"I told you, just treat me just like any ordinary date."

"Ordinary date. Right." I paused, looking across the expanse of the parking lot, noting where happy couples arm in arm making their way towards or away from the theater. "Well, there's a nice place I go on 60th street. It's a block east of the church, I'll lead you there."

"I'll go with you." Ivy said earnestly, moving closer.

"I, uh, I don't have a car." I said, politely moving away.

"Then how did you get here?"

"I have a bike I rode here."

"I'd like that."

"Like what?"

"To ride it."

"If you can stand my driving, then sure."

"Oh, I think I won't mind your driving." She promised warmly.

"Uh, okay." I said, feeling that I'd missed a salient point in the conversation somewhere. We walked over to the beast, dodging slow moving cars picking their way through the lot. "There's a few problems with the thing I haven't had time to fix yet; I pick up a harmonic when I hit around fifty miles an hour and the whole bike starts to vibrate. It's almost uncontrollable around seventy."

"You can go seventy?"

"Downhill, stiff wind, throttle wide open, small child in the seat, y'know." I said with a grin as I straddled the beast and took it off the stand, turned it on, and looked back, my finger over the starter. "Well, all ashore that's going ashore." Ivy hesitantly stepped up and swung her leg over behind me and pressed herself against me. Her hands wrapping tightly around my midsection.

"Don't I get a helmet?"

"Left 'em at home. Didn't expect anyone would want to ride with me on the first date." Ivy response was drowned out by the whine of the starter, and then coughing spluttering growl of the engine as we picked our way out of the parking lot and then onto the highway. As I picked up speed in the slow lane, the vibrations kicked in, and after a few minutes Ivy squeezed me hard and laughed, her short hair whipping in the wind. In a certain light, she was beautiful.

The Sister Ch. 03



After a fast half hour on the vibrating bike, I pulled into Maximilian's garage, waved at Stephen tending the counter, and we hoofed it a half block to the pub. The block had seen better times. It honestly looked like it was in it's last gaps before being pulled, kicking and screaming, into abject poverty. The railroad, once a big business back in the day, and the only transportation medium when the city was founded, has since dwindled off, leaving behind a high water mark of impressive old buildings harkening back to a better time, and a core of dilapidated buildings two steps away from turning into a ghetto outright.

The front of the pub was rather ramshackle. The buildings on either side were boarded up and empty, already graffiti'ed in black spray paint, the smell of cooking food wafted from the unseen vents on the roof, the front was boarded with plywood gray with age, and dappled with advertisements, playbills, and other advertising debris. 

Ivy stopped outside, looking around. "I dunno about this, it looks like a stripclub."

"Ah, the outside's always deceptive," I said, pulling her slowly inside. The door opened and jazz music and chilly air conditioning washed over us.

"What is this place?"

"It's a pub. Easy, relaxed, the best food in town, and the bartender's a genius." I said pointing as Scotty behind the bar.

"Uh-huh." Ivy said, as I pulled her to a side table. The waitress appeared and dropped two menus on the table.

"How's it going sweetness?"

"Oh, hi Brandi, it's going okay. How's the kid?"

"Doc says it's just the flu."

"Thank God."

"Who's your friend?"

"Brandi, Ivy; Ivy, Brandi." I stood and smiled ruefully. "Brandi, get me the usual. I'll be right back. Sorry, nature calls." I said, and picked my way to the bathroom, and a few minutes later slid into the seat. 

"What did you order?"

"Grilled fish."

"Which kind?"

"The edible kind." She said dryly.

I smiled back at her sarcasm. "So, what up?"

"Umm?"

"Why the sudden interest to get me a date?"

"Oh. Well, I just wanted to help you out."

"How kind of you." I said, fighting to keep habitual sarcasm out of my voice.

"I really am sorry she freaked out at the last minute."

"Eh," I shrudded my shoulders easily, leaning back, "Hakuna Matata."

Ivy paused, rubbing the rim of her glass absently for a moment, looking at me. "You're pretty relaxed about the whole thing. If someone turned me down I'd collapse in a little ball."

"Been there, done that, got bored with it. Besides, I should know that if it doesn't work, then it's better for the both of you to figure it out sooner, rather than later."

"Do I detect a trace of arrogance?"

My lips quirked into a crooked smile, "Lessons painfully learned, actually. So, what about you? Still lookin' at that guy you were talking about?"

"Yes, but I don't know to confess to him."

"Confess? Bleah, that sounds like you did something wrong."

"Hey, you're a guy, you could help me!"

"Help you what? Try to get a date?"

"Tell me what guys like in women."

"Oh no. Nonononono. I am not going to talk about that to you." I said, waving my finger warningly. 

"Why not?"

"First," I raised my index finger, "you're too young. Second," my thumb shot out, "I don't want to unfairly pollute an innocent mind if I can help it. Third," my middle finger joined the other two, "there is no mystical one answer to that question. And fourth, my ring finger shot out, "I am not going to discuss something that private with you. No, go ask your brother he's a guy too, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Aww, you're no fun. What do you have some really kinky fetish? You like tying up little girls with their own panties and whipping them with licorice or something?" 

"NO!" I squeaked.

"Well, if it's not so bad, why not?"

"Oh, Look. Something else." I said caustically, pointing to Brandi lugging a platter of food towards us.

"Brandi, could I ask you something?"

"Sure, hun." She said, pulling out plates off the huge platter and setting them neatly in front of us.

"What do men want in a women?"

"Big tits." She said automatically.

"That can't be everything."

"A pornstar in the bedroom, and big tits then."

Ivy turned to me, "Is that true?"

"No comment."

Ivy cupped her hands underneath her breasts and lifted, "Do men really go nuts over these?" She asked, softly bouncing them up and down. 

I tried to be casual watching the metronome precision, but the effect was damn hypnotic, and an image that circumvented my brain and slammed directly into my brainstem. I watched for a long moment before I wrenched my eyes away with an almost physical pain, staring instead at the jazz mementos littering the walls. 

"Oh, look, he's blushing." Ivy said mischievously, "So maybe there's something to the boobies after all."

"Told ya so, kid."

"Who knew that a few lumps of fat could bring a man to his knees."

"Certainly not everyone." I scoffed.

"Oh? Perhaps the men who like other men, but it works on you."

"It certainly does not."

"Then why are you looking away?"

"Because you are my best friend's sister, and if you want to...to...fondle yourself, then it is not my business to watch." I spluttered.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop."

I my eyes dropped for an instant; I saw Ivy, arched back, arms at her sides, hands shamelessly caressing her breasts pressed tightly against her shirt, smiling wickedly at me before my eyes shot up and I started counting holes in the ceiling.

"That." I squeaked, stopped, swallowed some spit, and choked out in a more normal tone of voice, "That is not 'stop'."

"I was just having a little fun with ya."

I sighed, and muttered something about young women and boiling lakes of hormones making people stupid under my breath, which caused Brandi to chuckle and Ivy to grin at me. 

The food was excellent, as usual, the music was good, and as the night wore on, the place filled with the idle, the music lovers, couples, singles, just about anyone and everyone. People talked quietly, eating, drinking, dancing occasionally, most just watching the group finish their set and take a break.

"Wow. What is that?" Ivy asked a little breathlessly. 

"Jazz, little bit of Elvis, rock and roll, little swing. I try to catch all their shows when they swing by town."

"I like it."

"I can loan you some of their CD's, if you want."

"Yes! Yes!" She exclaimed as the drummer came over.

"Hey, dude." He said presenting his fist.

I knocked fists together lightly, "Pretty good, how 'bout you?"

"Broke my sticks, man. Bad juju been ridin' me for weeks."

"Aw, the red ones?"

"Yeah, man."

"I thought they were pretty. Oh, Ivy, this dude is Snowflake, the drummer."

"Snowflake?"

"Dude, whatever you do, just don't name your kids baked." Snowflake said sheepishly.

"I heard that thing you did in the middle of the second song, what was that?"

"Dude, Steve wanted to try it a little more drummy, so I did it a little more drummy. Wha'd ya think?"

"Liked the original."

"Dude." Snowflake grunted in assent, nodding.

"Dude!" Steve called from the band's huddle near the stage.

Snowflake looked sheepish, "Sorry dude, I gotta run. The dude's callin' me."

"See ya, good luck!"

"Good bye!" Ivy said.

"Thanks dude!" 

After Snowflake had ambled out of earshot, Ivy sniggered.

"What?"

"I didn't think anyone actually talked like that. Does he surf, too?"

"Nah, he hates the ocean. Saw Jaws once, and gave up on it. Only swims in pools he can see in."

"Really?"

"Yep. Besides, the man is a klutz when he doesn't have drumsticks in his hand. If he did surf, he'd probably drown."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"Depends."

"Could you go to the bar and get me a Irish Car Bomb?"

"In about three years, sure."

Ivy stuck her lounge out at me. "What, you don't want to get me liquored up and take advantage of poor widdle helpless Ivy?" she said in a childish voice.

"In a word, no. Even if I did, and I don't, your brother, my best friend, would cheerfully gut me, and pay to have me stuffed and mounted. Maybe as a table. So while you're crying your eyes out over my demise, I'll be furniture."

"I'd get over it quickly."

"Oh thanks."

The band retook the stage as the guitarist stubbed out his cigarette. Steve started the intro of the next song, his voice booming out of the speakers for a moment before the sound guy, ensconced behind his castle of softly lit dials and switches, lowered the volume with a practiced flick of his wrist.

The rest of the night went well, and while Ivy asked me to dance a few times, I shook my head. I would spare myself the needless embarrassment of that ordeal, thank you very much. After another hour, the last set wound to a close with a roar of applause from the gathered crowd. Ivy was one of them, lips parted, breathing hard in excitement. If she was someone else, she'd look beautiful... reminding me how alone I was, which rather thoroughly killed the mood.

I waited for the crowd leaving to ebb, Ivy and I congratulated snowflake and the rest of the band, and we made our departure. The night was cool, but felt almost brisk coming out of the humid heat of the pub. We walked slowly, together, looking upwards and pointing as we tried to name the constellations in the sky. I could get the really obvious ones, but she surprised me by pointing out a handful of seemingly random stars here and there.

The drive back was quiet, made at a slower speed than the drive there, with her entire body pressed against mine, her the left side of her face pressed into my shoulder blade. I stopped at the theater, and looked around, not seeing a car.

"Where'd you park?"

"Owen dropped me off."

I rolled my eyes and grunted, mumbling dire implications about not telling me things I might possibly need to know as I turned the bike around and merged back into cross-town traffic. 

I pulled up to the house, killed the engine, and flipped the kickstand down, but waited for Ivy to scramble off before I got off. And waited.

"Um, Ivy? We're here."

"We are?" she asked muzzily.

"Yes. Wanna get off?"

"If I must." Ivy sighed and scrambled off; pausing to straighten her clothes before she put her hand out.

"What's this?" I asked.

"You still have to escort me to the door."

I shrugged and theatrically rolled my eyes as I levered myself off easily, pocketing the keys. I took her arm and walked her the ten yards to the door, ringing the doorbell myself. We turned to face each other looking at each other silently, and bemused part of me wanted to kiss her right there, and damn the consequences. Just as my hands started forward, the door popped open, and the of sound from the tv in the living room washed over us as Owen smiled at me, moving away from the door. I blinked and shook my head, bade everyone a good night, and walked back to my bike in a daze. 



The Sister Ch. 04



The time between dropping Ivy off and the next morning was a bit of a haze, and the next morning, I awoke slowly, and blamed someone sneaking some pot into the show for last night's mental fuzziness. I rolled upright and padded into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. I retrieved the Wall Street Journal from my doorstep, and sat on my chair reading the paper listening to the pot gurgle and hiss.

My first two cups of coffee scoured the morning breath from my mouth and woke me up the rest of the way. I finished the paper and tossed it in the newspaper recycling collection box, which needed to be emptied into the apartment building's communal recycling bin... but why do now that you can put off 'till tomorrow? 

Instead, I threw some shorts on, grabbed my keys and padded out to the mailbox, running into Jennifer, my next door neighbor coming back from her morning run, dressed as usual in a white sports bra, skimpy red-checkered gym shorts, and battered grey sneakers all soaked in morning sweat. Her hair, tied back in a tight ponytail flowing out of the back of her cap, bobbed as she jogged the last twenty yards and skid to a stop a few feet away as I leafed through the mail, which was not surprisingly filled almost entirely with junk mail. 

Jennifer and I were often confused as a couple, since we hung out together often, usually when she needed a shoulder to cry/gnaw on when the current boyfriend of the fiscal quarter didn't work out. There was a certain parallel irony in our situations that I found amusing in a way. 

We'd watch some movies, get drunk, and I'd patiently listen to her alternatively rant and weep about the last one, she'd drink until she passed out, I'd hold her hair back when she needed to puke, and the next morning she'd look like death warmed over, but better, and in a few months I'd hear about the wonderful guy she just met, and the cycle would begin over again. 

And it's a wonder why people accuse me of being a cynic.

"Hey," she called, "I gotta problem with the internet, could you come by and fix it later?"

"Sure," I said crumpling a flier for a new Chinese place and tossing it over my shoulder, "When's it good for you?"

"Right now?"

"Sure." I said and followed her back to her apartment, guiltily watching her backside as she walked.

She pointed at her computer, and told me what happened, after about fifteen minutes I found it was her cable modem's fault and told her to run to Best Buy and get a new one. She thanked me and pushed me out so she could get a shower before work.

I walked back to my apartment, ran all the junk mail through the shredder and tossed the bills onto the table before the phone rang. I checked the caller ID before picking it up, "Yo."

"Yo yourself. How's it going?" Owen asked.

"Just fixed Jennifer's internet."

"The runner with the tight ass?"

"Yep."

"You bang her?"

"No!" I spluttered.

"You should, girl like that, get that clog outta your system."

"She's just a friend."

"I didn't say marry her, I said fuck like bunnies."

"It's not going to happen, except in your fantasies. And if they involve me in any way, all I can say is that you need therapy. Which I already knew."

"What's wrong with her? Nice hard body, probably enough sex drive to jump-start a star destroyer. So I'm telling you, Luke, use the force."

"You called me for a reason?" I asked tartly.

"Sure, fine, a friend is trying to help you out..."

"I've been doing good so far."

"Whatever you have to say to get up in the morning."

"Ha. Ha." I said dryly.

"Actually, can I ask a favor?"

"No."

"Pleeeeeeeeeease?" Owen pleaded.

"No! The last favor was borrowing my car, and you had sex in it, and it reeked for days!" 

"This doesn't involve sex..." Owen paused, "mainly." He qualified.

"No." I said adamantly.

"It's about a party--"

"--Lalalala, I'm not listening!--" I said rather petulantly.

"--and Ivy's going."

I paused. "So?" I asked cautiously.

"So I want you to go with her."

I sat down and started flipping though the bills, "I'm touched. Really. But I'm busy." 

"It's tonight."

"Nuh-uh. Busy."

"Doing what?"

"...stuff." I replied lamely.

"I want you to go with her, I don't want fuckface touching her, okay?"

"And fuckface is...?"

"Roger, Robert, Ronald... Fuck, I can't remember his name. Her boyfriend, fuckface."

"Okay, you want me to go with her to keep the cylon away. Why don't you go?"

"Because it's a school thing, and I don't want to be around those rug rats." Owen retorted. "And, uh, also she kinda doesn't want my help." 

I paused and massaged the bridge of my nose. I felt an incipient headache coming on.

"I'll do something really nice for you. I'll, uh, I'll feed you! With food!"

"Oh, not like the last time then." I said sardonically.

"Pleeeease! I'm begging you! Look, pick her up, go there, make sure she's safe, take her back. That's all you need to do. In and out in less than four hours. I'll even pay you, uh, ten whole bucks and hour."

"Thirty."

"What? Fifteen, I'm poor!"

"Twenty five. Hazard pay."

"Twenty, and I feed you for free."

"Done."

"Done."

"So what's the party?"

"Well, there's the catch, it's some kinda theme costume party. At a friend's house. Big party, non-supervised."

"You like doing this, don't you?" I accused him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Owen said, his voice absolutely dripping innocence.

"Yeah, sure." I sighed, "What's the theme?"

"Historical."

"Historical? What the fuck does that mean?" 

"As in 'involving with history'; dress up as a cowboy or something."

"And I'm supposed to take her out? Does she know about this?"

"Ah, not quite."

"Better and better."

"She'll kill me if she knows, so you're going to have to keep this a secret."

"Soo... what does that mean?"

"You're going to have to lie to her. A little. Pretend it's a date."

"Oh no. Nonononono! I'm sorry, but you can keep your money, I'm not asking her out."

"What's the problem, you seemed to get along well enough with her last night!"

"If I ask her out, I've asked her out."

"Not following you, come back from the island of misfit toys and join the rest of the frolicking reindeer."

"Look, if I asked her out, she thinks I've asked her, y'know, out."

"And why is that a problem?"

"Because I've asked her out." 

I could hear Owen sigh over the phone, "I'm asking you as a friend, perhaps the bestest friend you've ever had, to help me help her. She's young, stubborn, and defenseless. And you won't help me help her by keeping her safe because you might have to lie a little?"

"I, uh, you're evil, you know that?"

"Good and evil, they're just words people use interchangeably. The power of money and free food compels you! The power of money and free food compels you!"

"Yeah, sure. Okay, I'll do this. But this food better be spectacular."

"It will! I promise!"

"Not like last time, when you tried to burn down my apartment."

"It was only a little grease fire. Man, make one little mistake and people remember it forever. That's gratitude for you."

"So how are we going to do this? You hang up, I call back, or what?"

"Nah, got it covered. She already thinks you're going."

I felt my blood pressure spike; it was high school all over again.

"She's delighted, by the way."

"That a sure sign she doesn't know me."

"I know! Isn't it cute when they have their illusions? Don't ruin them."

"What?"

"Don't be you, okay? Pretend for four hours that you're someone else... that has class. Talk nice, play nice, and no disintegrations."

"Yes, mom."

I heard Ivy talking in the background, "No breaking her heart too. You break her heart, I break your face."

"Ugh. I'm Bond, and you're the villain."

"I don't expect you to talk, Mr. Bond--"

"--I expect you to die! Yeah, okay."

"Oh, Ivy wants to talk to you."

"What for?"

"Coordinating costumes."

"Oi."

"Yeah, I know. Here she is--"

"Hey, how's it going?" Ivy chirped.

"Fixed Jennifer's computer this morning."

"She broke up with that asshole?"

"Um, yes. Last week. We watched Big Trouble in Little China, and ate a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream together." 

"I hope she finds someone less burdened with the asshole gene."

"Owen suggested I should step up." I said casually, glancing at the electric bill.

"Oh yeah? Well Owen doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Jennifer needs you to be a good friend; maybe she'll learn from you that she needs someone that's not a complete asshole, like the last... dozen."

"She'll learn by osmosis? Hasn't worked so far."

"She'll come around. It sometimes takes a while. So, what are you wearing?"

"I, uh, what?" I spluttered, flustered.

"For the party, your costume?" Ivy explained patiently.

"I dunno."

"Well, with that thing you could be a samurai."

"What thing?"

"The sword."

"Oh. You want me to be a samurai?"

"And I'll be a geisha."

"I'll be a samurai, and you'll be a geisha?"

"We'll win for sure!"

"Win?"

"Didn't Owen tell you?"

"No...?"

"There's a prize if you win the contest."

"What contest?!"

"The costume contest!"

"Oh. Kay. So, how are we going to get there?"

"How's your car?"

"Working."

"That's reassuring."

"You did ask."

Ivy sighed, "How about we take your car?"

"No, gotta take it in today."

"Oh, then how about I grab my stuff later, grab Owen's car and I'll follow you to the mechanics and give you a ride back?"

"Um, sure. That sounds fine."

"Good, I'll be there in an hour, 'bye!" and the phone clicked.

"Wait!" I said uselessly to the dial tone, and hung up.

Jesus jumping Christ on a pogo stick. I had simple needs, really, and every time my life evened out, something happens to needlessly complicate it. Again. I growled ineffectually to the empty apartment and poured myself another cup of coffee. 

Samurai. I didn't have the right clothes or equipment to be a samurai, but I could be a ronin in a pinch. I sipped my cup and wrote down some odds and ends I needed to buy to complete the costume. First on the list was weather or not I should actually bring a weapon to a party. Sure, the nodachi was a weapon that was used by a samurai, but it was also nearly six feet of razor sharp steel, and I was leery to take it out in public. After all, the last time I pulled it was not to practice, but to assault someone. Sure, he deserved it, but it bothered me that I had nearly killed the guy in the first place.

Since I couldn't find a replacement in time, I decided to take it, and tie it close with a wax seal. Probably no one would understand with it meant, but it was era-accurate at the very least. And then it hit me. I would be at a party filled with a great many other men and women Ivy's age. Boys and girls, I should say. Unsupervised. Gah. This was like out of my worst nightmare. I better make the knots strong; I might want to hit people with it after an hour. I predicted by the end of the "party" that I would have almost hit at least two people, and fantasized about hitting at least five more.

A knock at my door stopped my ruminating; I opened it to see Jennifer red eyed, and sniffing, her hair hanging in damp tendrils, dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, her arms hugging herself tightly, and bouncing from foot to foot on my door mat.

"Jennifer? What happened?"

"I think I'm pregnant."

"Um. Oh." I said, and my brain suddenly vapor locked.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." I said and stepped aside. She had barely walked in when she spun and grabbed me roughly and hugged me tightly, sobbing into my chest. Taken by surprise, I froze, but after a moment I simply held her, patting her head gently, and whispering soothingly into her ear. 

Time passed, minutes, maybe a quarter of an hour, before she sniffed once, and hiccupped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to crack up so badly."

"It's okay, it happens. Take a seat. Tea? Coffee?"

"No." She said sleepily.

"That took a lot out of you."

"I'm so terrified I just want to die."

"Hmm." I said unhelpfully, unsure how to handle it. "Well, I don't want you to."

"Die?"

"Both. Do you have anyone female to talk to about this? I might not be the best person to do this to, since I'm male and all."

"You're a friend. And you're here."

"Works for me. Cookie?" I said holding out box of milano's for when she came over.

"You spoil me."

"Eh, only when you come over."

"I should find a guy like you."

"I, uh, thank you?" I said, bringing my cup of coffee over. "How did you find out?"

"I took a pregnancy test today. It came up positive."

"What about a doctor?"

"You mean an abortion?" she whispered fearfully.

"No, I mean have them run a test, too. I sure they're more accurate."

"What if it says the same thing? What if I'm pregnant?"

"I assume that Chad was the father?" I asked, and Jennifer nodded, "and I assume that Chad would not be entering the picture again?"

"Fuck no."

"Well, I dunno, honestly. I've never had to think about having a baby."

"Neither have I, really." She sniffed.

"I'll decline to ask for the details. Here," I said, handing her the Kleenex and the phone, "Call the doctor and set up an appointment, then call this number," I said, scribbling a number on a scratch pad I kept on the table, and handing it to her, "Tell the woman your name, and then tell her that I'm calling in one. She'll help you."

"Who is she?"

"A general therapist. Don't look at me like that, I'm not sending you to De Sade, I just want you to talk to someone who has a uterus, and has had a kid, both of which I don't and can't. I'm sorry, but I can hold your hand, but I can't help you any other way." I apologized.

"But you have. All the time."

I smiled, "That's what being a friend is about. You accept, and you help. Occasionally you see some bad movies, and eat a bucket of ice cream."

Jennifer took the phone and stood, "I'll need some privacy."

"Bedroom." I said jerking a thumb to the door.

"Thanks. You'll make someone a good boyfriend someday."

"Thanks." I said, barely preventing me from rolling my eyes. I'd heard that one before. True, I was used to hearing it said with outright sarcasm, but after a point, I thought of it as a polite noise one says, like please or thank you, whether you mean it or not.

But I'm not bitter. 

As soon as Jennifer was in the bedroom, Ivy popped thought the doorway, bent over and dragging her weight in bags like a mule.

"What in the world is this?" I asked, Jennifer temporarily forgotten.

"All the things I need." Ivy said simply, closing the door. 

"To cross the alps on foot?"

"No, to dress up. Clothing, props, makeup, medicine."

"Medicine?"

"In case something happens."

"Nothing's going to happen."

"You're sweet, but you never know." Ivy said, dropping the bags, "Milano cookies? I love these! Can I have some?"

"Sure." I said, looking at the bags. It looked like she was moving in.

Jennifer walked out of the bedroom, handing me the phone. "I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Do you need some help? A ride there? A shoulder to gnaw on?" I offered.

Jennifer smiled at me, "I'd like that. What's with the bags?"

"He's taking me to a costume party tonight." Ivy said, munching on a cookie.

"Sounds like fun." Jennifer said politely. I could only fake a smile. 

"I'm going as a geisha." Ivy said proudly

"A hooker?" Jennifer asked hesitantly.

"Companion, really. Sings, dances, tells stories and jokes. Sex may or may not have been part of the bargain." I explained.

"So what will you be?" 

"A ronin; a masterless samurai, usually a common bandit, riff-raff, and dregs of society. The parallels are obvious." I said haughtily 

"You'll always be my knight." Jennifer said, and hugged me.

"Just call me señor Quixote." I said into her ear, and was rewarded with a wan chuckle.

Ivy stifled a smile by eating another cookie.

Jennifer let go and stepped away, running her hands through her hair, "Look at me, I'm a mess and late for work." Jennifer said, in a more normal tone of voice. "I've gotta go get cleaned up." She said briskly, moving to the door.

"I'll be here if you need it."

"Thanks." Jennifer said, and closed the door behind her.

"What happened?"

"Something she wasn't expecting." I said and glanced at a clock, "Crap, I have to get to the mechanic, or they'll never be able to look at it."

"Goin' to the bathroom first." Ivy said, walking to the bedroom.

"Okay." I said, throwing a shirt on, and pocketing my keys.

I dropped off the car after carefully explained the problem to the mechanic, and had Ivy drive me around town getting the last few items I needed. We had a light lunch at a bistro, she ate some sort of leafy rabbit food, and I munched on slices of watermelon, idly watching the people outside. 

On the way back to the car, Ivy made a detour, giggling as we wandered into an arcade and drifted from machine to machine. Some had one kid frantically hammering buttons, some with small crowds around a player or two. I sighed over a handful of old machines in disrepair I remember dumping quarters in when I was younger; we applauded at the coordination of the dancers on the dance machine; and we ended up standing by an unoccupied fighting game.

"Let's play this!" Ivy said, fumbling in her purse for change.

"Do we have time?" I asked checking my watch.

"We have hours and hours, c'mon, afraid to get your ass handed to you by a girl?"

"No, I'm afraid that I might make you cry when I beat you. And the one thing I can't stand is little girls crying."

"You talk tough, but can you put your money where your mouth is?"

"Oh? Are you suggesting a bet?"

"Yes I am."

"What would be the stakes of this bet?"

"How about something in the future? Like if I needed you to do something for me, you couldn't refuse."

"You aren't thinking of making me do something gross."

"No, but if you win, you get the same thing."

"Good," I said, fishing quarters out of my pocket with an evil smile.

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched." She said, putting her purse on the console, away from the controls and stretching her fingers.

A win for her, a win for me, one tie, and one win for her and I stood, mouth agape at the screen as her character with the barest slivers of life pranced around, and so did she, laughing and prancing.

"Unfair! The hit detection was off, I want a re-match!"

"You promised." She said, now almost on the verge of tears.

I looked at her and swore. Her lower lip trembled, and I swore some more before I bit out, "Yes, I did."

Like a switch had been thrown, she was suddenly holding my hand and leading me out, laughing and prancing. I don't make any claim to understand myself, so I'll not even attempt to try to understand her.

We window-shopped for a bit, she blushed when we passed Victoria's Secret, but I only grinned at the manikins dressed up, slowing to take the craftsmanship in, only to have Ivy pull me along. We stopped at a small Thai food vendor and shared a box of noodles, gasping and fanning our mouths when the heat got too much.

We were oddly quiet when we headed back, with only the radio to break the silence. Once I closed the door, Ivy started sifting through her bags hunting for something as I dumped out my bag and started sorting out the stuff.

"I saw you look at the lingerie, do you like that sort of thing?" Ivy asked, talking to a bag she was digging through.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean do you... like that sort of thing?"

"You mean do I find it sexually arousing?"

"Yes."

I blew out a whistle and stared at the ceiling. How to put this without causing more trouble... "Yes and no. I like seeing it on someone, but I have to like looking at that person first."




The Sister Ch. 04



"So you only like looking at pretty women?"

"Ah, well, um... Lingerie is something you show only to someone you like a lot, and so the only time I see it, is on someone I like to look at, so I only like it one people that I like to look at in that way. I wouldn't want to see Owen in that, for instance."

"That would be a little extreme." She agreed, looking as if she bit into something sour.

"Yeah, just like I wouldn't want to see just any woman with it, just my woman with it. If that makes any sense."

"It does. I'm going to use the bathroom to get the makeup on."

"Sure." I chirped, walking with her into my bedroom and fishing around in my closet for the rest of the costume.

I heard Ivy hum something, and it took me a minute before I recognized it; it was the Blue Danube. Shaking my head, I assembled my costume, knotted and sealed with wax the ropes, made sure the sheathed was waxed to a high gloss, and then fixing my hair into a messy queue before shrugging my clothes off and dressing quickly before Ivy blundered out and saw me, again.

I was just putting on the finishing touches, when Ivy stepped out. "What do you think?" she asked. She looked perfect, her makeup applied just so, her hair perfectly done.

"How did you get your hair to do that?"

"It's a wig I found at a costume store."

"You seem a little less busty than before, if you don't mine my saying."

"Geisha aren't that busty to begin with, so I kinda strapped them down."

"Does it hurt?"

Ivy absently rubbed her breasts, "Not now, but as a bra it sucks. You look good, too. Scruffy and dangerous."

"Really? Women swoon over that. Are you swooning?"

"No, but I know you."

"Aww, not even a little swoon?"

"Nope."

"Maybe I'll find someone at the party to swoon."

"You better not, you're my date, after all."

"I can't help it if some woman swooned over me."

"Maybe I'll make some guy swoon."

I thought about it for a second, "Nah. Ow!" I yelped when Ivy's folded fan skipped of the back of my head.

"What were you saying?"

"You could. Maybe."

"Do I not make you swoon?"

"Me? Nah. I know you, after all." I said, and ducked the fan again, dancing back.

"You are such a... man!" Ivy spluttered.

"Why, thank you." I said smiling, deciding to leave the nodachi behind, it was too precious to me to take to some idiotic party.

"Don't cut anyone with that, okay?"

I rolled my eyes theatrically, and sighed.

"I mean it."

"Yes, dear."

As she drove, we talked about Jennifer, how she skipped from man to man seemingly aimlessly sometimes the relationships lasted a few days, sometimes a few months. Some ended well, most didn't. And I helped her pick herself up and soldier on. Somehow. Honestly I have no idea what I say or do that helps her. We eat some ice cream, we watch some cheeseball movies, she cries on my shoulder, I tell her it's going to be alright, sometimes she sleeps on my "couch", and in a few days she thanks me, gives me a hug, and life moves on until the next time.

Ivy looks at me tenderly as I wind down from my frank and confused synopsis of Jennifer, "You're a good person." Ivy tells me warmly, pulling neatly into a parking space.

I sighed, "That I am. Doesn't get me laid, though."

"Maybe you're just looking at the wrong people."

"Maybe the wrong people are looking at me?"

"No, I think sometimes the right person is looking at you. Sometimes. One person has to be the right person sometime, right?"

"I guess." I grunt, levering myself out carefully.

"You're so optimistic."

"What part of 'bitter and old' confused you?" I said, knocking on the door.

Ivy gave me a sharp look as the door opened, and a woman dressed as a witch with a ratty short skirt, ridiculously high heels, and a large wide brimmed hat peered at us for a moment before, "Ivy!" She cried and gently hugged her. 

Thus followed a fast squeaky chatter between the two as she let us inside. It was a large town house, bedrooms above, kitchen and whatnot below. Already there were a handful of people chatting and drinking. Two tables were set up, one for drinks, another for food, mostly candy and finger food. Owen's party had a bartender to keep a watch over the alcohol, as a legal issue, here the alcohol was chilling in ice filled tubs, and no bartender. The partygoers, as far as I could tell, were Ivy's age. With a sinking feeling, I just wanted a cup of coffee; this was going to be a long night.

I noticed a pause in the conversation, and I looked over. The witch looked at me appraisingly, and Ivy was looking hungrily at the alcohol.

"My name's Sapphire, how do you do." The witch said, offering me her hand.

I shook it in a strong grip, "I do well enough, is this everyone?"

"Oh, they'll be along soon enough. Do you want a tour of the house?"

"Ivy, do we want a tour of the house?"

"Nah, I've seen it before."

"Then no, she's seen it before."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"I'll take a rain check." I said, waving it away, "Where did you get the food?"

"I had a caterer brought it in a few hours ago."

"Wow, they must be good, the food looks wonderful from here. Where did you get all that alcohol?"

"I ordered it through the catering service."

"Isn't there going to be underage drinkers at the party?"

Sapphire grinned naughtily and whispered to me, "I won't tell if you won't."

"Of course... Ivy, if you don't stop staring, your eyes will fall out."

"Could you make me a drink?"

"It is within the realm of the possible..." 

"Make me a drink."

I sighed and remembered that I was being paid for this. It helped as I went over to the tubs and looked around, and sighed again. The tubs were filled with a lot of cheap alcohol, which offended me on a professional level. "What do you want?"

"Irish car bomb."

"No Guinness."

"Rusty Nail."

"No Drambuie."

"Long Island Ice Tea."

"Umm... yes. I can make that."

"Long on the Long Island, light on the ice tea, understand?"

"Right." I said, grumbling under my breath at the antiquated conditions I had to work under. After a few minutes, I handed Ivy a glass of Long Island Ice Tea, short on the Long Island, long on the Ice Tea. I was supposed to look after her, after all, and I was pretty certain that after Owen's last brush with alcohol, if I brought Ivy home wobbling and puking, he'd cheerfully dent my head in with a lead pipe.

"Tastes great."

"Of course it would, I was a bartender." I said arrogantly. 

"You were a bartender?" Sapphire asked, a little awed.

"And a pretty good one, too. I quit because I didn't want to deal with the drunks anymore."

"Ironic, that." Ivy said, looking around with a satisfied smile.

I shrugged, "Occupational hazard. Obvious, upon reflection."

"I hate stupid drunks." Sapphire said as the doorbell chimed pleasantly. "Excuse me." She said and minced to the door 

"Five bucks she falls and breaks her neck on those things."

"I thought men liked heels."

"I like heels, but there's a line that shouldn't be crossed."

"And those...?"

"Crossed it by a mile. Who would even wear those silly things, really?"

"She is."

"She also shares her name with a number of strippers and porn stars. I rest my case."

Ivy took another pull, "Still, it's a nice drink."

"Thank you, madam. Now what shall we do?"

"We shall mingle, and we shall have fun." Ivy said, walking towards the new arrivals. It didn't sound like a request.

"Of course." I said, following.

The rest of the night was exactly what I thought it would be: long and tedious. Ivy had a lot of fun chatting with her friends, and politely rebuffing the advances of some guys, dancing, nibbling on the food, sipping from the as light on the alcohol alcoholic drinks she sent me scurrying to make. My efforts were rewarded as people started dropping from drunkenness, and Ivy only was a little tipsy. I, on the other hand, was drinking blood-warm coffee from a bottle I snagged from the kitchen before the party started.

Ivy looked at me owlishly, "Are you sure you're making these right?"

I nodded, "I'm sure. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the drink."

"I don't feel too drunk."

"We did have something to eat before we got here."

"Right, well, make me another one." Ivy said, pressing the cup into my hands.

I nodded and used the bathroom first, then the bar, somehow salving a drink from the debris left behind, which I pressed into her hands, and dodged a mummy weaving on his feet towards the impromptu dance floor. Ivy gulped the drink down, and handed me the cup again.

"Another."

"You might want to slow down, Ivy."

"I said another! If I want to be drunk then I'm going to be fucking drunk!" she snapped.

"Oookaaay." I said, holding my hands up placatingly.

"Now get me another. I don't care what it is."

"Riiight." I said, retreating.

At the table, I bumped into Sapphire again. Well, less bumped, more ambushed. She was waiting at the table, and brightened when I came by.

"Having a good time?"

"Oh, yeah, great party." I lied.

"Ivy tells me you're good with computers; Jacen bumped into my computer a couple of minutes ago, and it's not working now, could you take a look at it?"

I thought about it for a second. "Sure," I chirped, thinking that near the computer would be a phone I could use.

"Great! Follow me." She said, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowds, up the stairs and through a door in the back, with a commanding view of the kidney bean shaped pool in the back, with various people in various states of undress making out in the glittering darkness lit only by the moon high in the sky.

The room itself was lit only by the soft glow of the lamp next to the computer, and the monitor at a DOS command prompt. It was a bedroom, a large bed in the corner, a desk with the computer, a small refrigerator next to a small microwave on a table across from the bed, some stuffed animals battling for space with the books in the bookshelf, a pile of glittering equipment in another corner, and three closed doors.

"Want a drink?" Sapphire asked, opening the refrigerator.

"No, I'm good." I said, taking a swig of the coffee, and sitting down.

"Maybe some popcorn?"

"No thank you, filled up at the buffet table." I lied, restarted the computer.

"So, how's Iv'es doing?"

"She's doing fine."

"I heard Ronnie took the breakup a little too personal."

"Started smacking her around in my house. Not the brightest of ideas he's probably ever had." I said dryly.

"I never saw what she saw in him."

I shrugged. The computer started up like it should. "There doesn't seem to be any problem with the computer. Maybe it just needed a restart."

"Computers are just so complicated, I could never do what you do."

"Eh, you can take a course at the college. In a year you could." I said and turned around almost trampling her by accident. "Um, hi?" 

She smiled up at me and then grabbed my head, jerked it down and kissed me, rubbing her body against mine suggestively. "Oh fuck, you are a big man." She moaned kissing my face.

I stood frozen for a moment, undecided. While the idea of sex with someone was appealing, the idea of sex with her, (and possible statutory rape at that), was not. I sighed, sometimes it didn't pay to get out of bed in the morning.

I grabbed her arms and unwrapped them from my head and neck and pushed her away. She apparently took this as assent and skipped to the bed and laid back, spreading her legs "Yes, fuck me. I wanted you the second you came through the door, all big and sexy." She moaned, struggling to pull her dress off.

"Sapphire, I can't. I'm promised to someone else."

"Mmm, I bet she doesn't have a pussy as tight as mine." She said, finally tugging her dress off, her hand slipping between her thighs, sliding over her panties, as she begged, "Just one time, no one will know."

"Look, I'm sure you're a great person."

"And I'm a better fuck. You make me so fucking wet--"

"--but you're not going to get what you want from me. Look elsewhere." I rudely cut her off and walked out, firmly closing the door on her objections behind me.

I walked downstairs dodging people making out on the staircase and on the landing. By habit, I made my way to the bar and realized I left Ivy's cup by the computer. Snagging one that looked just like it, I washed it out and filled it again with something that I banged together. I found Ivy on the dance floor wrapped around some guy, and honestly, at that moment I had had enough of it. I took the drink into the kitchen, the only unoccupied room, snagged the phone from the cradle and called Owen.

"Hey, what's up."

"I'm tired, and I want to get out of this stress test gone awry."

"Where's my sister?"

"She's on the dance floor dancing like in a rap video. Y'know, the dry humping?"

"She drunk?"

"She's been drinking."

"But is she drunk."

"Tipsy. I've been controlling her alcohol intake, I think. Look, it's been nice, but I've reached my limit."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Fuck, I dunno."

"Just stay with her. You're my only hope." Owen said and hung up.

"Well, fuck me if I can't take a joke." I said, draining the last of the coffee from the bottle, and reaching for the full carafe in the coffee maker when Ronnie and two of his friends rounded the corner, dressed in their full whatever the fuck they belong to regalia. Which means they could have a weapon on them and I'd never know.

"Hello, dickface." Ronnie said.

"Hello, assmaster. Nice to bring your girlfriends along." I said over my shoulder. Great. A fight. Just what I wanted. Well, daddy always said to take the initiave. About fighting specifically was to hit them with a two-by-four when they're taking a leak, but they didn't look like they came here for the bathroom, and I was fresh out of lumber.

Ronnie stepped forward, "Look, I got one thing to saaAAAAHH!!!" his sentence dissolved into a scream as the stream of scalding coffee splashed on Ronnie and the boy next to him. The other kid yelled as the carafe shattered against his forehead as I grabbed the tub of margarita salt and threw a handful at the three of them before I jumped in, grabbed Ronnie and slammed his face into the counter twice, quickly before I pulled him away, wrapping an arm around his neck and started choking him in the approved OSS manner. Well, the approved OSS manner featured a garrote, but since I didn't have a garrote...

People, attracted by the screaming, started moving towards the commotion and they saw one kid still yelling on the floor, the other peppered with glass looking at me, and me holding Ronnie like a shield, his feet off the floor and jerking, his hands at his neck trying to pry my skinny arm off him.

Ivy pushed through the crowd, and stopped for a moment taking in the scene. "LET HIM GO!" she yelled.

I smiled, "Fuck him." I said, gripping tighter. Ronnie was making wet choking noises, his nails scraping my arm, drawing blood. "He comes in here with his dickless posse, insults me, and was going to jump my ass anyway once they screwed up their courage. Fuck him."

Ronnie, I think, was trying to communicate, but it felt like he was trying to get free, so I choked him harder.

"Look, I'll call the police, I'll file assault charges."

"Does this retard looks like he cares about restraining orders? Huh? No, this fuckwit only understands violence. So here's the lesson: fuck with me, and I will have my coup." I said, and then let him go. He dropped to his hands and knees, gagging, and I kicked him in the ribs a couple of times for good measure. "Next time, you be polite, and you be nonthreatening, or I'm taking something away you use a lot. I'm crazy, I'll fucking do it, too." I looked at the other one. "You better get this goat-fucker to a doctor, or do you want a lesson too?"

The guy tensed for a moment, and I calmly reached over and pulled a big carving knife out of the collection on the counter beside me. It was Toledo steel, and the knife alone probably costs as much all the knives in my house put together. "Look, I don't got all night, so let's hurry this up." I said briskly, stepping over Ronnie. He tensed even further, then held his hands up and backed away.

"Now, this has been a swell evening, but I must bid you adieu." I said, snagged Ivy's cup off the counter and pushed it into her hands, turned and walked out the back door. People moved out of my way, because, well, I was still holding the knife, which I ditched when I hopped over the fence into the neighbor's yard and walked away.

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.



The Sister Ch. 05



The few stars in the sky glittered like diamonds as I walked home. I could have called a cab, but it was a warm summer evening, and I needed to blow off some steam. Besides, the moon hung high and full in the sky, casting an ethereal glow around me; at least, it was when the occasional street lamp at the intersections didn't spoil it.

I knew roughly where I was when I stumbled across a seedy looking twenty-four-hour liquor store, it's neon sign and lit facade glowed like a torch in the night, casting eerie shadows onto empty darkened buildings and cars silently rusting on the curb. I suppose I could have passed without looking in, but there was a certain undeniable charm about the place, I suppose, that drew me closer. It wasn't like I had anywhere to be soon, anyway, and I was curious.

I passed through the formidable security barrier and smiled at the small woman behind the counter reading a book on Chinese astrology. I was rather surprised; it wasn't as seedy inside as I thought it would be. There were the racks upon racks of wine bottles, and surrounding them were the shelves filled with proper liquor and spirits. The background music was soft jazz, and I wandered around the place, looking at the bottles, chuckling at the prices here and there. I confess, I wasn't an alcohol snob in anyway; my preferences ran more towards cheap, plentiful, and alcoholic enough to do the job without killing me outright.

I suppose that an alcoholic had a similar outlook as I did, and while I might have been accused of borderline alcoholism on occasion, I tried to limit my indulgences to once a year things. Usually for my birthday, but as I wandered around the shop I started to feel the craving, and my birthday was months away. Which is why I found myself cradling a jug of cheap vodka in it's massive plastic bottle like a newborn as I approached the counter.

The cashier looked at me once, her eyes flicking over me before she hammered something into the cash register keypad, sending it into a whirring, clacking fit. "Ten dollars even, yojimbo." The woman asked over the noise of the machine, her voice a warm soprano with a slight Boston accent. 

"Wanna check my ID?"

"Nah. You're old enough, and you're Libra trending towards Scorpio. You're an artist of some kind, I suspect non-tactile, and you're of a lower income bracket, you're going home, and are fascinated by other cultures. Did you know that Emperor Himiji outlawed the carrying of swords by the samurai?"

"Um, no." I said, looking around, "But how did you figure all that out?"

"Oh you're very easy to read. First, you walked around the room looking at bottles like you were in a museum, but didn't touch them; you're buying a bottle of cheap vodka when there were better, but more expensive ones around it; you're alone and from the way you're costume's rumpled, I'd suspect you were coming from some party; and the costume's a good replica of Toshiro Mifume's character in Seven Samurai, which is esoteric enough to only be seen and liked by someone who's either a film major, or someone's who's fascinated by other cultures."

"That's... wow. What about the Libra?"

"My tarot reading said I'd meet a Libra and Scorpio today and help them with their problem; those wounds on your arm don't look self-inflicted, or defensive, so you were in a fight of some kind. Ten dollars, and what's your problem?"

"I, uh... you know this is excessively odd, don't you?"

She smiled, "Of course it is, but my therapist said to embrace the oddness of life, to ride the wave like a surfer. Did you know that there's a surfing Olympics every year?"

"Er, no?" 

"Not a talkative person are we? Well, it makes sense; the cards said you're recovering from a bad relationship. Did you know that chemically, lust is just like being stoned?"

"I could see that. Er, I hate to talk and run, but I have to go."

"Of course. Here, take my card." She said handing me a rather professional looking business card. "I looked you up; the cards told me the next few days will involve chaos and life intertwined. Be careful, the specter of danger haunts you, you didn't turn a smile to it, so it's really angry now."

"Right." I said, handing the ten-spot over. What was it with full moons that never failed to bring out the crazy in people? I wondered as the woman bagged the bottle and handed it back to me. 

"If you ever need me, that number's the way to reach me. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." She said, pointing at the card in my hand, "Oh, congratulations on your windfall, even if you don't want it."

Unsure how to respond, I smiled warmly and fled. 

And with that, I thought surely, the rest of my night would be rather peaceful. After all, I had just had the weirdest experience of my life. But then the police accosted me twice on my way home for, I am only to guess, looking the way I did and carrying a paper bag at night. Which I took in stride, after all, it was right in line with the rest of the night so far. 

But, despite the interruptions, and crazy liquor lady whom the alcohol fumes have obviously pickled her brain, the walk was good for me. By the time I arrived on my doorstep, I was more or less calm, and I was more or less over what had happened... or perhaps I was in denial. One thing I knew was that I didn't think Owen was going to be happy about this development, and that I wasn't going to get that free meal and money. I'm not sure which was worse, the loss of free food, or the loss of money. But I have to say that in all honesty, I stopped caring the second that dick showed up at the party with friends to 'talk' to me.

Yes, indeed, it was time and past time for a moment of reflection, after all, it had been years since my last bender, and I think after all that's happened this week, I was due for one again. I had some spare money and a week of free time; it seemed like a message from God himself to get my drink on and get busy pickling my liver. No more Ivy, no more Owen, just some peace and quiet spent in somber contemplation. I smiled at the thought as I opened the door. 

As soon as the door closed, right on queue the phone started ringing. I didn't even bother to check the caller ID; I just unplugged the phone from the wall, charger cradle and all, and threw it hard across the room into the bed cushions. With a clatter of plastic, phone bounced off my pillow and skittered into a pile of stacked blankets, which made me feel a little better. 

I stood, looking at the brown paper bag with the red plastic cap of the vodka bottle poking out of the wrinkled top for a minute before I sighed walked into the kitchen. I pulled my water filtered carafe out of the fridge, dumped the cold water into the sink, and poured the vodka in to be filtered, tossed the empty bottle in the trash, and put the carafe back in the refrigerator. "I hate my life." I muttered, closing the refrigerator door, and I was surprised to find that I meant it. 

Physically, my legs ached from the walking, and I was tired, and I wanted a bath, and to change clothes, but emotionally, I just felt bad about today. After all, this night could have gone a just a teensy bit better. I had my reservations about going, but I did it anyway, and here I am. This should be object lesson about not paying attention to what you're guts telling you, I would think.

I sighed, just feeling bad. I opened the fridge to get some cold water, but remembered belatedly that I'd dumped it out just a second ago and replaced it with vodka, and that wouldn't be ready until tonight. Still, I wanted something cold and preferably alcoholic to drink, and the neat rows of beer and lager bottles lined up on the bottom shelf caught my eye. Ivy had probably lined them up carefully yesterday when she was cleaning, and that rather annoyed me for some inexplicable reason. 

But the attraction of comfortable numbness was not to be denied, so I found myself roughly opening the crisper drawer and dumping the head of lettuce and tomatoes on the counter before filling it with as many bottles as I could cram in. The drawer, now heavy with bottles, cut into my fingers as I held it carefully, closing the fridge door with my foot, and staggering to the dining room table and carefully setting the thing in the middle with a clink of shifting bottles. I turned the chair so I could lean against the wall, and sat down. I felt like I was on top of the first hill of the roller coaster. I snorted cynically, no time like the present...

Blindly grabbing a bottle with one hand, and the bottle opener in the other, trained muscle reflexes kicked in and the top came off with a satisfying pop. I flicked it in the in the general direction of the trashcan, but I heard it tink off the floor. I stared at the nodachi leaning against the wall, feeling like it meant something in some odd shape or form. Some piece of a larger puzzle barely glimpsed at. I toyed with the top of the bottle with my finger as I stared, my finger was wet, the rim was smooth, clammy, and cold. Shit, I thought remorsefully, maybe I just needed to move on.

I didn't even check to see what I was drinking, I didn't really care by this point, I just brought it to my lips and drank greedily. The next three were inhaled the same way, the bottle hand simply handed the empty to the bottle opener hand, which put it on the ground as the bottle hand fumbled for another chilled bottle out of the drawer. 

Personally, I don't know why I felt bad. Maybe it was residual adrenaline. Maybe it was simple guilt. Maybe I felt bad about getting into a fight, certainly master Chun wouldn't approve. Either way, I just wanted to be numb, and I wanted the day to just be over with as quickly as possible. I developed a good rhythm, but I started having problems hitting the bottle top midair with the bottle opener, and I had to start putting it on the table to keep it stable, which helped a for a while until that became a damn chore. Which annoyed me even more -- I just wanted to open a damn bottle, for heaven's sake, not perform open-heart surgery on a convulsing epileptic! 

A little time passed, all too soon I found myself groping in an empty drawer, which exasperated me, because I'd only drunk a few bottles. I pushed aside the empty bottles around my feet and stood, unsteadily. And that's where it gets fuzzy. I remember opening the fridge door and pulling out a bottle, and I remember being irritated at leaving the bottle opener on the table, and somewhere between the fridge and the table, the floor came up and hit me in the face and everything went silent for a while.

The pounding of the door awoke me. I pressed my forehead against the cool floor, hiccupped, and giggled inanely; the sunlight streaming in through the windows felt like stabbing daggers in my eyes. I clapped a hand over my eyes and I moaned liked a damned soul. A very damned hungover soul.

The door jumped again, louder this time, and I swore I could see the sound waves bounce around the room like glowing pinballs before ricocheting into my skull, where it resided for a moment, beating the inside of my brain around like a piñata before disappearing into the void. I groaned loudly, holding my head together with my bare hands.

The knocking blessedly stopped, and my head stopped feeling like it was under a steam-driven trip hammer. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

I put my hands over my ears and yelped, "Yes!" but it didn't help,

And then I realized I was laying on the kitchen floor in a puddle of my own drool, a full beer bottle lay a foot away from my outstretched hand, and I didn't quite remember how I got to the kitchen -- or on the floor, for that matter...

"It's me, Jennifer, are you okay?" 

"Noooooo." I moaned truthfully as I stood up slowly, wiping my face off with the back of my hand, leaving a long, cold trail of slime up my arm. Yuck.

The doorknob rattled as I slowly and very carefully meandered to the door, "Well, can I come in?"

"Yeah." I said tiredly, unlocking the door slowly, trying not to make too much noise. "Sorry, I was sleeping." I muttered, pulling the open a little and carefully moseying back to the kitchen. I felt fuzzy all over, and my brain was packed in cotton.

Jennifer opened the door and slipped through, wrinkling her nose, "Someone's had a party."

"Party of one." I muttered holding up an index finger.

"I guess so." Jennifer said, closing the door behind her. She started when she saw my face edge on, "Jesus, you look like warmed over death."

"Thank you." I grunted, "Hold on a second, I need to cycle the vodka." 

"Cycle... the vodka?" Jennifer asked me quizzically.

I was currently running low on available neurons to rub together to talk and manage the complex kinesthetic problem that was emptying the full carafe back into it's filter, reassembling the thing, and putting it back into the fridge without spilling a liter of vodka over me, the floor, or the inside of the fridge, which would be a pain to clean up. So I remained silent, but spilled some anyway.

"What in the hell was that?" Jennifer asked dubiously, looking over my shoulder.

"Bad vodka." I explained quietly, washing my hands clean in the sink, "Run it thorough a water purifier a couple dozen times, and two charcoal filters later, and you get drinkable vodka."

"You mean good vodka?"

"I wouldn't go that far." I shook my head slowly. 

"Where in the world did you find this out?" Jennifer asked disbelievingly.

"Where else?" I shrugged, "College." The memory of Travis, who, for one brief and bright semester majored in beer and pussy, and in the end kicked out for low grades flashed in my mind. His family was a little miffed, and stopped the money train... the last I heard he was in Alaska, repairing radars for the Air Force.

"I'm afraid to ask, but what's the vodka for?"

"Later." 

"Bad night?"

"Had better." I grunted shortly.

"'She' tried to stop by, and 'she' woke me up out of a sound sleep when 'she' starting pounding on your door at four in the bloody morning."

"Sorry, I was asleep."

"Passed out, more likely," Jennifer snorted. "Anyway, she came and left. Left you a message on your door." Jennifer said, holding out a folded scrap of yellow paper.

I took it from her slowly, making sure I firmly had it between my fingers before I pulled them away. I looked down at the outside of the note, there was Ivy's name scribbled in black ink on the outside in a neat feminine hand, and I could see the shadow of writing through the paper. I rubbing it idly between two fingers as I considered reading it, but I shook my head with a sour snort and tossed it on the bill pile. "Thanks, but maybe later." Like next to never, I thought sourly and started making coffee.

Jennifer sat down at the table and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her chin settling on her palm as she stared at me coolly for a long minute while I slowly made coffee, trying not to make a mess. 

"So, it really was a bad night." Jennifer observed dryly gesturing at my arm as the coffee maker gurgled and growled.

I nodded as I wiped the counter clean of spilled coffee grounds and noticed my throbbing, torn up arm and sighed. No use in hiding it now. "It could have been better." My arm looked like I shoved it in a garbage disposal, and it hurt. I sighed and pulled the first aid box and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide out from underneath the sink.

"Did you get in a fight?" Jennifer asked with a studied coolness.

I just silently started cleaning and bandaging my arm carefully, sneering at some of the longer rents in my arm. Knowing my luck, the cylon probably never washed underneath his fingernails and this was going to get infected with some skin-eating disease, and in a few months I would be skinless, and then how could I get a date? 'oh baby, I'm all muscles' doesn't sound like it would be quite, um, useful, then.

After a few minutes of silence, Jennifer asked, "So, you want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine." I said, carefully wrapping the arm in bandages, and flexing my fingers and seeing how it felt.

Jennifer looked meaningfully at my arm, then around, nudging one of the bottles on the floor with her shoe. "In all the times I've known you, when was the last time you went on a bender?"

"Uh..." I thought about it for a second, "I've always had work..."

"Uh huh." Jennifer said and starting picking the empty bottles up and putting them in the drawer still sitting on the table, "Because you could have never called in sick once. Like that time I needed help."

"That's different." I protested.

"Uh-huh."

"Look, I just needed to let off some steam. So I drank a little..."

Jennifer looked around pointedly as the empty bottles littering the floor. "Uh-huh."

"...and it was not a great night."

"Uh-huh. Are you sure you did that to your arm yourself, or did you have help?"

"I, uh..." I froze for a second, trying to think of a plausible lie.

Jennifer sat back, "Oh, this ought to be good."

"It was a cat."

"A cat?"

"I tried to pet him and he just went nuts..."

"Uh-huh."

"...like a furry psychotic buzz saw."

"Riiiight."

"It was a bad night." I muttered.

"I could tell." She said, nodding blandly and humoring me.

"Don't you have someone else to pester this early in the morning?" I growled.

Jennifer smiled wickedly, "Oh no, I have you all to myself today."

I recoiled, "What? Why?"

Jennifer blinked, "Don't you remember?"

"Uh..." I thought about it for a second, and came up blank. "No."

"You said you'd take me to the clinic?" She asked slowly.

"Oh? Oh. Oh!" Ding! A dim, flickering light bulb appears over my head, "Okay, I remember that." Barely.

She snorted and pushed a bottle from under the table, "I'm surprised you remember anything."

I smiled thinly and tried to change the subject, "So, how're you feeling?"

Jennifer smiled wryly, her eyes openly looking me up and down, "Other than watching you stumble around in a kimono? 'doin okay."

I looked down blearily and saw the kimono, which needed to be cleaned and pressed. My loincloth was rumpled, and I felt greasy, and I suddenly smelled myself. "Ah, right. I need a bath, there's some food... around here... somewhere. I'll be right out, okay?" I said, walking towards the siren's call of a hot shower.

"Take your time." Jennifer waved dismissively, smirking. 

I smiled at her and walked into the bathroom, disrobing quickly. Ugh, I felt so incredibly foul it felt as if the crap was caked on my skin, and I'd need a chisel to get it off. I made sure the water was extra hot before I climbed in and scrubbed hard. I was out of soap, so I used shampoo, so my entire body felt smooth and smelled of peaches, but in the process something washed down the drain with the suds that was more than simple dirt. I still felt like I had been run over by a truck, but at least I was quazi-mobile? 

I dried quickly, roughly scrubbing dry with the towel and tossing it over the curtain rod. I brushed my teeth and used rinse twice, and after a long look in the mirror decided against shaving, and just pulled on some clean underwear and a battered pair of shorts that had seen better days some years ago. 

The frayed hem ticked my knee as I blundered out back into the kitchen for more coffee and something vaguely food-like to gnaw on. Jennifer watched my antics with amusement, smiling this silly-ass smile at me as I spilled hot coffee on myself. I forced myself to eat the sandwich, but it lay like lead in my stomach while the coffee scoured away most of the lingering taste of last night in my mouth. And, after the third cup of coffee, I felt almost human.

"I've never you seen you like this." Jennifer smiled at my bleary antics from the kitchen table as I fumbled about.




The Sister Ch. 05



"What, hung over?" I wondered as I applied too much pressure to the mustard bottle and the top came off explosively, splattering mustard on my chest and the countertop. I swore and reached for the paper towels. 

"Vulnerable."

I tossed the paper towel and paused mid-reach for another one, "Huh?"

"I've never seen you clumsy, or weak, or anything." Jennifer said, handing me the roll, Her eyes downcast, she said quietly, "It's usually been me that was stumbling."

I snorted, uncomfortable, "Surprised I'm actually human? Trust me, I have bad days too."

"But I never hear about them! You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you." Jennifer pointed out.

I tossed the other paper towel away and sniffed. Great, I eau d' mustard cologne. Classy. I smiled weakly at her and picked up another sandwich and took a bite, speaking around the food, I corrected, "Oh but you do, I love ice cream, sob stories, and cheesy movies. What else is there to know?"

"Well, did you ever want to take advantage of me?"

I choked on my sandwich, and found myself bent over the sink, coughing up aspirated mustard and pastrami before I strangled on it. "What?!" I croaked.

"You must have thought about it once or twice."

"No!" I croaked grabbing for the coffee and downing it in one gulp, "Never!" And just what in the hell prompted this question?! "Remember when you get drunk, you get goofy and you don't remember it? At most, I just wanted to videotape you, as proof. I don't think I'll forget plastic-bag-woman and her ice cream scoop of justice."

Jennifer blushed, "I didn't!"

"You did. Got down to your underwear, wore a plastic bag as a hat, posed like Conan before proceeding to 'defeat the minions of the Dread Lord Chocula by consuming the frozen elixir of evil with your scoop of justice'."

"I... don't remember that."

"You'd poke me with the scoop when I started chuckling. Quite seriously, I might add."

"I don't drink often."

"Oh, I think you've drunk enough when you're nearly naked and stabbing the ice cream with a ice cream scoop. Or dancing around the room with a bag on your head, waving the scoop around and trying to get me to call you Mistress Scoops-a-lot, and for me to bow to your bag of office."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Very memorable night."

"So you never wanted to take advantage of me?"

"Why in the world would I want to take advantage of you?" I asked, and gulped another cup of coffee, "And why ask the question? If I'm an evil guy, I'm going to lie to you and say I'm not. If I'm good, I'm going to tell you the truth, and tell you I'm not." I drained the last cup of coffee and flicked the coffee maker off. "Not to mess with your head or anything."

Jennifer paused as I washed the cup out. "You just seemed..." She said quietly.

"Seemed what?" I said, slightly irritated.

"Too good to be true."

I paused, unsure how to respond. I snorted and hook my head, "Don't sell yourself short, or me long, there's plenty you don't know about me." I said and started dropping bottles into the trash. Over the clatter I thought I heard Jennifer say something about being willing to find out, but I doubted I heard it right, and in any case, I doubted she meant it, so I let it go as I tossed the used coffee grounds into the trash.

Jennifer checked her watch, "You done?"

I gulped the last of the sandwich and burped. "Yeah, let's go."

"You maybe want to get dressed more? Maybe a shirt?"

I looked down, "Oh. Hold on a sec." I said, rolling my eyes at my own forgetfulness. I ducked back into the bedroom, snagged the first shirt I saw, and pulled it on, and grabbed the leather jacket.

"Uh, I uh, forgot that I don't have a car, it's down at the mechanics. Do you mind riding on the bike?"

"Sure, why would you ask?"

"Politeness, and, um, not to hurt the theoretical baby."

Jennifer rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, I'll be fine. You safe to drive?"

"Oh, I'm fine, just a little sick."

"What about the vodka?"

"For tonight."

"Going to get hammered again?"

"Yeah." I grunted, and Jennifer frowned. "I plan to spend at least a week either going into or coming out of a drunken stupor. It's been a year, I think I've earned it." I explained.

Jennifer merely looked at me contemplatively for a minute, staring into my eyes emotionlessly, and I expected her to say something, but instead she just picked up my helmet and handed it to me. "Shall we go?" Jennifer asked, opening the door.

"Right." I said, pulling the brain bucket on. As it settled onto my head I winced internally at the sour smell of an unwashed helmet liner. Oh, right, I was going to get around to washing it sometime this week. And again I made a note to wash it when I got back... and I'd probably forget about it by the time I got back. Every year I get older and more senile. Soon I'll be like my Uncle, wandering around the backyard in his underwear, carrying an empty shotgun, hunting elephants in the great African plains of suburbia. 

The drive was rather boring, thankfully. I kept to the back roads, driving through sleepy neighborhoods, which took a lot longer, but I didn't want to test my hungover reflexes when there was someone else on the bike that could get a terminal case of road crayon in addition my dumb ass for driving while hung over in the first place. If Jennifer noticed, she didn't say anything.

I squeaked to a stop outside a small brick house converted to a doctor's office, making a note to check the brakes again as we walked inside. As Jennifer signed in, I grabbed myself a seat and looked around, but was unsurprised to find it was depressingly similar to every other waiting room I've been in; a small dusting of people, muted neutral color paint, a low table, a handful of colored blocks for children, two rows of cheap and easily replaceable chairs facing each other and a mound of magazines filled with such inane information I wondered if they were there as cheap anesthesia (certainly anyone reading them would be brain dead in a few minutes). 

I shook my head disdainfully and looked up at the ceiling. If I had rubbed two brain cells together earlier, I would have brought something to read, but I didn't, so I prepared myself to be dreadfully bored for a while.

"This article's interesting." Jennifer chirped beside me, looking over an issue of Cosmopolitan at me, "As a male, is it true that the hairstyle will drive you wild?"

I looked at her levelly for a long moment before I snorted, "A hairstyle that can drive me wild? Oh, heaven forbid one should be an interesting person, for males are far more shallow than that."

"Oh, I don't know, the first thing most men think when they see me is not my what my favorite authors are, but if these are natural, and what they look like naked." She said, waving the magazine at her breasts.

I glanced once, and then grinned at her, "Well, they are very nice."

She swatted me with the magazine, "So why don't you have a relationship?"

"Oh god, not you too!" I groaned and slumped in the chair.

Jennifer smile turned into a Cheshire grin, "Oh, who else has been asking?"

I put up my hand, and ticked off the people on my fingers, "Owen, Ivy, my mother, you, umm... other people. Why in the world does suddenly everyone in the world want to know about my sex life?"

"Wait, you have a sex life? Since when?"

"Oi." I grunted, giving Jennifer a dirty look.

"Ivy was the girl from yesterday, right?"

"Yeah, she's Owen's little sister."

"She's the one pounding on your door, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, why suddenly so distant? There's nothing that... happened." Jennifer paused and let the word hang for a moment, full of naughty promise. "Right?"

"Right. Nothing happened." I said brusquely trying to suddenly absorbed in a magazine cover.

"You are such a horrible liar. But if you aren't comfortable telling me what really happened, then I won't push you. Much."

"Thank you." I muttered sourly as the door into the office clicked open and a nurse stepped out.

"Miss Azertlani?" The nurse called quietly.

"That's me." Jennifer said, standing.

"Good luck."

"Yeah." Jennifer said soberly. I watched her walk through the door, and watched the door swing shut with a click. She didn't look back once.

I thought it a wretched sort of irony that she was worried about being pregnant, when I'm sure there were people all over this world worried if they weren't yet pregnant. Perhaps it was the right gift at the wrong time? Would she later find someone to grow old together and maybe raise a bushel of kids on the side? I certainly didn't know. Hell, I didn't even know if I was going to find someone -- and I certainly wasn't looking. 

Which reminded me of Ivy, and the cylon, and the guy she had her eye on. I grimaced, and sighed. After last night I wanted just some peace and quiet, alone with my vodka for the rest of the week. Was there some kind of planetary alignment that was forcing all these relationships to fall apart so horrifically badly at around the same time? It made me kinda glad I didn't have a relationship of my own; she'd probably leave me and become a nun. Or a lesbian. Or a lesbian nun. Are there lesbian nuns in real life? I could only assume so.

Maybe I should shave my head and become a monk -- then I wouldn't have any women problems. No more crazy women, no more awkward first dates, no more awkward encounters with parents, no more backbiting female friends of hers, no more lewd comments from mine, no more sex (not that I've been having much lately anyway), no more cuddling on the bed watching a move, no more lulled to sleep by her breathing, no more everything. Instead, I'll become one of those wire-fu monks that can shatter steel with his fist, and fly from tree to tree with my super awesome kung-fu grip, and then wander the earth like Quai-chang Kane.

And the blood froze in my veins when my emergency cell phone hummed quietly as it vibrated in my pocket. Which felt a little nice, actually, but my hands still shot into pants for the phone.

"Hello?" I almost squeaked, fearing the worst. There was almost an instant betting pool in my mind, as I tried to imagine how horrible the emergency was. The top spot vacillated between a really bad car accident, and heart failure.

"Hey, it's me, Ivy." 

My brain froze and recomputed, but her voice wasn't over-controlled or panicky, so I wondered what emergency she could have to tell me that would leave her sounding, well, relieved. When the nurse behind the registration desk, and a old couple on the other side of the waiting room gave me a dirty look, I smiled wanly at them before turning towards the corner and hissing into the phone, "How did you get this number?!"

"Asked Owen, anyway, I wanted to talk about what happened last night."

"There was a fight, I left. There's nothing to talk about!"

"You nearly killed Ronnie!" She whined.

"Uh-huh." 

"He said he was going to apologize!"

I suppressed the urge to snarl, but instead said calmly, "Look, Ivy, this is my emergency phone, and it's for actual emergencies! This isn't an emergency, so we'll talk about this when I get back, okay?"

"No! I--" Ivy started to splutter before I snapped the phone close, feeling annoyed that she has burned some minutes for minutia.

The phone hummed again in my hand almost immediately, "This is an emergency!" Ivy yelled as soon as I answered it.

"Are you dying? Are you hemorrhaging? Then no, this is not an emergency! Clear the phone, I'll talk to you later!" I barked and snapped the phone shut. I looked up just in time for the old couple to give me another dirty look, and the phone almost immediately hummed to life again. I swallowed what I was going to say, casting a beseeching look skywards, before in a very over-controlled way, gently opening the phone and putting it to my ear, murmuring too-calmly, "Hello?"

"Hey, bro, how's it going?"

I had a hard time switching gears. Here I was, all ready to verbally flame Ivy to a crisp for calling again, and instead Helen, my half-sorta sister is whispering throatily into my ear. I wish I had a stress ball right then, I just needed to vent. Instead, I answered quietly, "Hey, Hel, how's tricks? Throat sore?"

"Hel-len, use your words like a big boy now. I picked up what's going around from one of my little snotlings, may he or she drown in his or her own mucus." She tried to chuckle, but it dissolved into a coughing spasm.

I held my ear away from the phone, "Ew, cover your mouth or we're both going to catch it."

"Germs aren't transmitted by phone, dumbass."

"I don't know -- I feel a little sick already."

"Nothing a relaxing afternoon of electro-shock wouldn't solve."

"Ha. Ha. Are we just going to stand here and sharpen each other's wit on each other, or is there a reason you called?"

"Oh, yes." She paused to cough again, and I jerked the phone away from my ear, "I'm to tell you there's going to be a clan meeting in three days. Reunion, wedding party, and other stuff all rolled into one family filled four-day politicking orgy of people you'd rather not be around."

"Who's getting married now?"

"Athena."

"Uncle Bill's daughter? Scrawny, pimple covered, huge braces, and hair like a hay bale?"

"Maybe eight years ago, she's rather cute now. Grabbed herself a doctor."

"Eight years? Has it been that long?"

"You do avoid family rather well. All those invitations that went unanswered, all those phone messages unreturned."

"Doctor of liberal arts?" I asked hopefully.

"Veterinary medicine." 

Shucks. "Good for her. Send her my best wishes when you're there." I said briskly, about to snap the phone close.

"Oh no. You are going to show up mister, come hell or high water!" Helen growled at me.

"But I'm busy! I can't possibly make it." I lied easily.

Helen sighed, which ended with a faint gurgle, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but your mum (and dad) want you to come. They're waiting for your answer when I hang up, okay? They said it's really important."

"Look, I'll... I'll think about it. No promises. I'm at the doctors; I have to cut this short."

"Doctors? What did you do?!"

"I'm here for a pregnancy test." I said with a smirk and flicked the phone shut, thinking myself clever. That should give her an afternoon of light entertainment as she tried to explain that particular absurdity to someone else.

Jennifer was escorted out by the same nurse that led her in, and while Jennifer almost zombie shuffled towards me, the nurse looked exactly the same -- a sheaf of manilla folders clutched to her chest, neon green half-glasses perched on her nose, cool brown eyes scanning the room as she called out the next name in the queue.

I stood and held out my hand for Jennifer, to help her to a seat, which she stared blankly at. The elderly couple shuffled towards the nurse who beamed at them and held open the door as they walked up. I felt a little, well, exposed standing there, holding my hand out, fearing that a single scrap of motive protein had just wrecked her entire life as she just stared blankly at my hand, somehow smaller than she was this morning.

The door closed with a solid click, and with a sniff, she pushed my hand aside and threw herself at my chest, her hands sliding under the jacket and wrapping around my torso tightly, grabbing two handfuls of shirt and skin and pressing her face hard into my breastbone. My breath whooshed out and I froze for a moment, fighting dojo reflexes from assuming she was trying to grapple me to the ground and reacting appropriately, or just reflexively shying away from the contact by pushing her away. But, as I thought about it, she'd probably take two handfuls of my flesh with her if I did somehow manage to pull her off of me.

As I struggled to remain still, I stared at the crown of her head and marveled at the fine strands of hair glittering and twinkling like lengths of gems in the fluorescent light. Sometimes bad things happen to good people; it's the rule of the universe, and it happened to a lot of people. People called it Karma, Murphy's Law, a sign from God, bad luck, what have you, and I supposed it was just a statistical convergence of low probability stuff happening at roughly the same time. But this wasn't a comforting thing to say to someone whose life's been dumped into a celestial blender set to frappe.

I knew without a doubt that this, of all times, should have been the time for her father, or brother, or mother, or her husband to comfort her, but only it was only me here. Damn the man for doing this to her, and damn the man for not being here! I bellowed in my own head. I might not be the right person to comfort her, but I'm here right now, and she needed someone. So I did the only thing I could do; I gently folded my arms around her, one arm around her trembling shoulders, one hand stroking her head, as I whispered uselessly into her ear as my shirt grew damp between us, "There, there." 

It was a time that I stood there, her arms clutching me almost painfully tight as I held her as if she was going to shatter at any moment. She wept silently into my chest for a time as I crooned soft words into her ear and stroked her hair like a frightened animal, before she relented and led me outside 

We dove home slowly in silence, and I was at times curious and dreading any answer she could give me if I screwed up my courage to ask. She seemed lost in her thoughts, and I was certainly lost in mine. When I parked and shut off the bike Jennifer asked in the sudden silence, "Do you have any ice cream left?"

I smiled easily, "Half a gallon, vanilla bean."

"And a horrible movie?"

"How about a Japanese sci-fi movie marathon? Only the best Japanese sci-fi from the 50's, 60's, and 70's."

"Sounds good to me." Jennifer said quietly and stepped off.

"You'll like the first one, it's called 'Prince of Space'." I said, following her. If a half-gallon of ice cream and a few schlocky movies were what she needed, then she would most certainly have it. 

When we got into the apartment, I made a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the smell of mustard and change into a different t-shirt. When I walked into the kitchen to start another pot of coffee going, Jennifer was coming back through the front door with a small bag over her shoulder.

"Sorry, the handle thing for the bathtub water spigot thing in mine is broken, mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, have at it." I gestured her forward with a flourish. "Do you want anything to eat? Pizza, Chinese, Mexican, Italian, Japanese?"

"Give me a minute to think about it." She said and closed the bathroom door.

In the mean time, I heated some leftovers to tide me over, cycled the vodka again, lay back in bed, shuffled through my collection, set up a playlist on the computer, grabbed the book I was reading, and just waited for her to emerge, listening to soft music, looking at a book page, my eyes sightlessly reading the words while I wondered if I should go to the family reunion. After all, there are some members of the family that I'd rather seen thrown screaming into a fusion reactor... and I didn't really go to any great lengths to conceal it

So, I could go, and be there... and talk to people, eat some food, make meaningless chit-chat to people that I only speak to there, (who I assume I'm related to since they're there), and then three days later hop a flight back. I'd have more fun on a bender, and I was loath to have a bender at a reunion--despite the attraction the idea had in a comical self-destructive way. I wished I had someone else there with me; it wouldn't be so much of an unbearable chore then.

The door clicked open, and a wave of humidity washed into the small living room as Jennifer stepped out, scrubbing her hair with a towel. Dressed in a thin cotton top and pants, vigorously scrubbing her hair with a towel, she looked good and I couldn't help but feel a surge of hormones... which was almost immediately replaced with shame and disgust as I perved not only a friend, but a friend who was going through an incredibly rough time. Appalled with myself, I averted my eyes and carefully put my book away. A good person? Me? Ha. I cleared my throat to attract her attention to remind her, "You were thinking about food?"




The Sister Ch. 05



Jennifer smiled underneath the towel, "There's some good Chinese down the street that delivers."

"Chinese and vanilla ice cream?" I asked, making a face.

"Do you have anything better?" she challenged.

I thought about it for a second and then went hunting for the phone, saying over my shoulder, "Yeah, I just might." 

Two quick calls later and I covered the mouthpiece of the phone and called out Jennifer in my bedroom, "Hey, how does a real southern meal sound? Chicken fried steak, biscuits, mashed potatoes, greens, and enough gravy to put out a forest fire? Then for dessert, apple cobbler. Sound good?"

"Sounds real good, where's it coming from?"

"Uh, there's a restaurant a few miles away that delivers. Don't worry, I'll pay; consider it a birthday present."

"You're a darling!"

"Riiight." I responded ambiguously, still disgusted with myself over my previous act. I walked a little distance away from the bedroom door before whispering into the phone, "Okay, Mike, two dinner specials, and make it look like delivery."

"I dunno, I could get into trouble for this..."

"I'm paying you, come on, Mike! You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Capishe?"

"Just what in the hell does that mean, really?"

"Means that I owe you one! Food, now! I'll help you paint your house or move some furniture around or whatever later!"

"Okay, but you owe me. Two dinner specials, two desserts, make it look like delivery. I'll be over as soon as they're done."

"Thanks, man."

"This better be a hot date or something..."

"Uh, yeah, it's very hot, very, uh... date-y."

"Christ, you're a bad liar." He said, chuckling, and hung up.

I rolled my eyes and slipped the phone back into its charger cradle, turned and started to tell Jennifer it would be a minute, only to freeze, mouth open like a carp when I heard a tinny, breathy moan from the bedroom. And in one horrible instant, I knew Jennifer had found my porn DVD, and in possibly the worst way I could imagine someone finding it.

I blundered noisily towards the room, hoping she'd shut it off before I got there, that we could ignore it tactfully, and I wouldn't have to explain certain things -- but she didn't, and I blundered through the partially closed door, wondering what I would find on the other side. If the average porn was to be believed, she'd be masturbating wildly -- but I wondered if anything in porn ever happens in real life. Y'know, other than people having sex; well, people other than me having sex, I mean. While I doubted she would freak out like my mother would, I hoped against all hope that Jennifer had just been surprised at the cleanness of the sheets, or the softness of the bed; because if I'm nothing else, I'm hopelessly optimistic about really stupid things. If not this was going to be... awkward.

Jennifer laying on the bed, the remote held limply in her hand as she stared at the TV, the porn continuing on as the succubus stole into the room of another twenty-something nun dressed in a simple cotton shift, yet made of ridiculously thin cotton and several sizes smaller than it should be, showing every curve of her body, and showing off her rather large breasts pressed against the fabric her aroused nipples, one pierced with a ring, tented the thin fabric lewdly and were hardly unnoticeable. She was on her knees in front of a small bed, praying when the door creaked slowly open and the succubus stepped into the room. 

Oh, crap, it started from when I stopped! Like a deer in the headlights, I froze and started at the TV, my mind grinding to a halt as my eyes flicked from the screen to Jennifer.

Despite the nun's initial frightened chanted prayers and silver rosary, which initially drew a yelp from the demon as she was rebuffed and pressed against the wall by some unseen hand, the succubus continued to smile wickedly as she toyed with her breasts watching silently as the kneeling nun's body language slowly changed from chaste to wanton, until she was gasping the prayer out between pants, her legs spread wide and a hand busily masturbating herself under her shift. The nun stopped chanting and started moaning wantonly, dropping the rosary to the floor as she started mauling her breasts through the shift. Through lust clouded eyes, flashes of fear stole across her face as the succubus slowly walked closer, the nuns hands seemingly uncontrollably molesting her, caressing and tugging her nipples through the shift, and making a wet squishing sound between her legs as she begged God for strength as the succubus stood over her, jacking her evilly glowing strap on slowly and chuckling evilly.

Jennifer paused it and giggled as the succubus grabbed the nun by the hair and made her suck the demonic strap on, the image frozen on the screen, and looked up at me with a cocky grin, "So, this is what you like?"

Answering no was a lie, yes was to admit to embarrassment, so in a fit of relative brilliance, I chose both; "I, uh, sorta?" Well, it seemed smarter in my head.

"They're both pretty at least, but I never figured you for the kink. You seemed so... wholesome."

I smiled weakly, "It's not something people talk about, y'know... to other people. Casually. When there's no sex involved in the relationship... and sometimes when sex is involved, too." I heard myself babble.

"True, true." Jennifer flicked the tv off and tossed the remote aside, looking around thoughtfully, "I'm not going to find some secret bat-porn cave if I pull a book from the bookshelf, right?"

I shook my head, "No, don't worry, it's in a box somewhere, you'll have to go rooting through my stuff to find it." 

"Oh, good. For a minute there I thought I would be accidentally traumatized a rack of whips and chains."

"Oh, that stuff? That's in the cupboard next to the flour."

Jennifer giggled, then paused, "You're kidding, right?!"

I snorted and ejected the DVD, "Of course... or am I? Muhahaha!" I said, laughing evilly.

"Jeez." Jennifer grumbled rolling her eyes.

"Actually, this is my only porn video." I said wiggling the DVD in my hand before pressing it into the case and putting it aside.

"Really?"

"Yeah." I said, sitting down on the bed a polite distance away from her, "Really weird thing; I can buy just about anything else, but I get all jittery when I go for movies."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So of all the movies, you chose... that?" Jennifer said, gesturing to the DVD.

I shrugged, "It gets the job done."

"So..." Jennifer paused, searching for something, before asking delicately, "Do you like roleplaying?" 

"With other people or sexually speaking?" Please be the first one! I prayed fervently.

"Sexually." Crap.

She was a friend, and I didn't want to lie to her, so honesty seemed to be the best policy, but I was still uncomfortable talking about it. "Oh, yeah. Most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Eh, sometimes it just doesn't click, y'know?"

"So, what do you roleplay about?"

I paused, smiled cryptically and shook my head, "Sorry, a gentleman never tells."

"Oh. Oh, it's probably really kinky then." Jennifer teased with a wicked smile.

I smiled at some of the more memorable things that had happened, "It can be, if we're both willing to do that. Sex is all about what you're comfortable doing, or comfortably uncomfortable doing as the case may be, really."

"Have any bad sex experiences?" 

I shrugged, "A few."

Jennifer smiled at me, "But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

I smiled and nodded, "Very observant."

Jennifer shook her head, "Ugh, you're just so... damned... polite!"

"I'll take that as a compliment." I said dryly, smiling as Jennifer covered her face with her hands.

She shook her head twice before she whipped her hands away and pointed at me imperiously, demanding, "Why don't you have a wife? The way you are, any woman worth her salt would marry you in an instant!"

I snorted, "But I don't want a woman made of salt, I'd like her to be more... human. Call it a fetish of mine..."

Jennifer groaned, "You know what I mean!"

"Yes, I do."

"So why?"

"Why what?" I answered innocently.

"Quit being a dick and answer the question!"

"I'm not being a dick, I'm just not answering the question."

"I will strangle you, you know that?"

I looked up at the ceiling and sighed, "I guess I just haven't found the right one. I've found a lot of good and interesting people, and we had some fun, but we're not... for each other at this point in our lives." I sighed again and muttered, "I wish them more luck in their search than I'm apparently having, however." Which was part vow, part plea.

"So, you just haven't found anyone?" Jennifer asked, a bit perplexed.

"No, I found a lot of people that were fun to be around and the sex was good, but there was something... lacking, y'know?"

"Maybe."

"At least we all parted amicably. Most of the time."

"Maybe you were meant to be single forever."

"Ugh, bite your tongue." I shuddered thinking about it for a second before I admitted, grudgingly, "Though the thought has occurred to me a couple of times. I suppose I'm holding out for something special -- maybe Mom's right, maybe I am waiting for an engraved invitation from God."

Jennifer sat straighter, her head quirking to the side as the silence lengthened before, "So why don't I see you date more?"

"I'm on vacation." I replied instantly.

"No, I mean in general."

I shrugged, "I work all day, I come home tired, I just want to get a bath, veg for an hour, and get some sleep before I wake up and do it again the next day. Notice the little time available to dress up like a colorblind peacock and cruise the bars, even if I was so inclined."

"Get a clue, it's the future!" she said, tapping her head, "Post an on-line personal."

"What, those? Ugh. No thank you." I said, shaking my head and barely keeping the disgust out of my voice.

"And just why not!?"

"I don't know if I'm going to be dating the Thing from the Black Lagoon or, shudder, a guy."

Jennifer giggled, "What's wrong with dating a guy? I date guys all the time."

"Well, other than I'm a flaming heterosexual, not much."

"Maybe you haven't found the right one yet." Jennifer teased with a grin.

I sighed and theatrically rolled my eyes, which earned a laugh from my erstwhile torturer, before I remarked, "You are, oddly enough, the second woman to say that to me in the past week."

"Oh?" Ivy brightened, "Who was the other one?"

"Ivy; night of the party."

"The time you attacked that guy?"

"How did you find out?" 

"It's the talk of the town. It's grown more titillating with every retelling."

"Buncha people need to get a hobby or something." I growled.

"But their hobby is gossip." Jennifer pointed out, which I could only grumble and roll my eyes in response. Jennifer smiled and changed the subject back, "So Ivy, huh?" 

I massaged my temples, "Yeah, my relationships seem to be a very popular subject all of a sudden."

"Really."

"Yeah. Amazingly so, considering I'm taking a break from that for a while."

"What do you mean, you're taking a break?"

"Going to take a break for a bit. Playing the field is an young man's game, and I'm not a young man anymore."

"Please," Jennifer snorted, "You're hardly old enough to be a man."

"Yeah... hey!" I did a double take, and decided to take the high road, "Perhaps, but you're as old as you feel." I sighed dramatically.

"Uh huh, then how old do you really feel, old fart?"

"Ancient. Desiccated. Old. At least thirty." I paused, and looked around before leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, "Maybe even older."

"You ass!" Jennifer giggled and threw a pillow at me. 

"Hey, I said I felt ancient."

"Yeah, senile and ancient. By the way, Ivy seems sweet on you."

I laughed and shook my head, "Yeah, she had a crush on me years ago. Quite embarrassing, really."

"Embarrassing? I'd think it would be a huge ego boost. Pretty young woman with puppy eyes, ready to be molded in the blast furnace of your love!" 

"I... er... what? 'Blast furnace of love'!?"

"Crucible of lust?"

"No."

"Hammer and tongs of desire?"

"No."

"Anvil of Bom-chika-wow-wow?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Whatever! But a young girl, pretty, nubile, virgin, pining over an older man, experienced, cosmopolitan, worldly... Oh come on, it's a porn staple! Huge ego boost there!"

"Not when no other woman in the world would look at me." I said quietly.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"It's okay, you'll find someone."

"Y'know, a lot of people say that when someone has relationship problems -- it starts to ring a little hollow after a while."

"Well, I do have a sister..."

"Oh?" I perked up instantly.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she'll be legal in a decade or so. And since you're not doing anything, or anyone else in the meantime..." Jennifer trailed off with a smirk.

I smiled thinly at her, "Oh ha ha. Cruel. Very cruel." And Jennifer smirked back at me, and I decided that if it took me being the butt of a joke, then I'd be the butt of a joke for her. 

"So, how bad was the last one to make you so girl shy?"

"Lets just we had a differing opinion on life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

"So... what? She was a libertarian?"

"Nothing so political; passive-aggressive, manipulative, and controlling -- to start with. In our defense, getting together seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Doesn't it always start like that?" She said shaking her head and smiling wistfully

"A good idea at the time?"

"Yeah."

I nodded, "Depressingly, yes." I said sadly.

"Was it at least fun?"

"In the beginning? Yeah. Sex was good, and we had some fun times before it got bad and we went our own ways."

"Amicably?"

"Eh, close enough for government work." I shrugged.

"Poor guy."

"Huh. I'm amazed the human race limps on into the next generation if this is any sample of the relationship problems the average person has."

"Nah, I think most people marry their high-school sweetheart and raise a herd of children before it comes apart on them. Lucky them."

"Yeah, lucky them." And I couldn't honestly say if I meant that or not. The door thumped in the background as someone knocked a simple tattoo. "Looks like the food's here." I said standing, "Come on, let's go." I paused, holding my hand out to help her up.

"I don't wanna! I'm comfortable here!" Jennifer said, quickly burrowing into the sheets.

"But I don't want crumbs in my bed!" I exclaimed.

"Noooo!" She whined, flashing a grin at me.

I walked to the bedroom door and stopped, before I said with a measured callousness, "Well, that's okay, I'm sure I can eat your portion too..."

And in a flash, Jennifer sprung out of the bed like a jackrabbit, "Whine, whine, whine." Jennifer needled, rolling her eyes as she walked past me briskly.

"Set the table, I'll be back with the food." I said to her back as I fished my wallet out of my pants. I opened the door and tried to block Mike's view of the inside, so he wouldn't get any ideas, but he got a look over my shoulder when I pulled out some bills to pay him anyway. Mike wordlessly handed me the bag, and took my money with an inane grin, stuffed the money in my pocket and gave me a thumbs up just before he disappeared around the corner. Great now the idiot probably thinks I'm dating her, I snorted, a little annoyed, shaking my head as I closed the door and locked it. Oi. 

"How much was it?" Jennifer said, bent over the table setting some plates down. I looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated by the receipt stapled to the bag.

"Don't worry about it." I said and slapped the bag down on the counter, "Now eat! Depressingly, this is far better food than I can do."

Jennifer snorted, "Ha, I've eaten what you've made." And she made it sound like an accomplishment. 

I paused and waited a beat for the rest of that sentence, curious, before prompting her, "'I've eaten what you've made'... aaand you liked it?"

Jennifer thought about it for a second before pronouncing, "It was... edible. Yes, very... um... edible."

"Oh thanks."

"Trust me... it's the least I can do."

I rolled my eyes and grunted, "Oi!"

She stuck her nose in the bag and sniffed, pronouncing, "Hey, this is better than you can do!"

No respect, I get no respect... "Oi."

Jennifer giggled, "Awww, poor man!"

"Oi." I grunted and partitioned out the food. 

We ate in silence for a little bit, enjoying the food before Jennifer asked, "So, what's with Ivy?" 

I swallowed my mouthful of food, and said as over-innocently as I could, "Why, whatever could you possibly mean, dearest Jennifer?" 

Her eyebrow quirked up at my tone, "Well, she was trying to knock down your door this morning, and she was asking about your relationships a few days ago..."

"Just curious, I guess. I was at that age." I tossed off.

"Uh huh." She murmured, unconvinced, "And the door thing?"

"Bad night last night."

"Uh huh. Are you ever going to tell me about that?"

"It's, uh," I paused and leaned forward and stage whispered, "Are you sure you really want to hear a about how stupid I was last night?"

Jennifer chuckled, "Heh, oh this'll be good. Come on, give! Give!"

I wiped the corners of my mouth with my napkin, and sipped some coffee to clear my throat before I started, "Oh, ah, okay, it began with a call from Owen yesterday..." And so I told her everything. Last night was not going down as one of my better nights, but I got out of it in one piece (as did everyone else involved), which I guess was an accomplishment of sorts.

At the end, Jennifer gasped, "You nearly choked someone to death?!"

I shook my head, "Well, not to death. He would have fallen unconscious first long before brain damage or even death occurred."

"Hrm." She said, digesting this fact, and then sniggered, "Well you did have a chance to have some sex with a nubile young lady." When I balked, she argued, "Come on, its every guy's fantasy! You've probably roleplayed it out, y'know? The eager student and the naughty teacher? It's a classic!"

"It's a classic -- between consenting adults! It would probably be statutory rape for me. Not only that but I didn't want to stay in the same room with her, and I certainly didn't want to get anything close to intimate with her. Hell, I'd probably get herpes from the bed alone!" I said and stabbed my food with a fork, "I make it a rule to have my partners and myself tested before we have sex for each other's safety. She was probably the school slut or something; and she certainly didn't seem all there to begin with, so either drunk, drugs, or just brain-damaged, I didn't want to know. "

"She might have been acting."

"But why act stupid? The only people turned on by that are a waste of space to begin with."

"Eh, various reasons. Fitting in, for one."

"Oh, high school bullshit." I snorted.

"Amen."

We ate a while longer, enjoying the food, and polishing off the dessert. I put the plates in the dishwasher, as Jennifer watched me from the dinner table, looking like she wanted to say something. Then Jennifer screwed up her courage and asked, "So what about Ivy?" 

Honestly, I was expecting something different to come out of her mouth, really. Something like, 'good food.' Or 'dessert was excellent!' But what happens in the minds of women are weird and arcane, and not for the likes of me to understand. "What about Ivy?"

"Well, what if Ivy was the one offering sex?"

I recoiled as if slapped. "Have sex with Ivy? Owen's little sister?! He'd kill me. No, he'd douse me in gasoline, set me on fire, put it out with lime juice, roll me around in salt, stake me to the ground, and let the birds peck at me while he practiced that Temple of Doom voodoo thing on me... and then maybe he'd consider killing me."