8 comments/ 62627 views/ 19 favorites My Brother's Widow By: Pussyrider I'll never forget that day as long as I live. I'm a middle ranking civil servant at the Department of Health in Whitehall, and I was in a policy meeting with several high-ups and a junior minister when my mobile phone rang. Withering under the glares of everyone else in the room I mumbled an apology and scuttled into the corridor. Dragging the phone from my pocket I snapped "What?" There was nothing but static at the other end of the line. I was just about to tell the stupid bugger who'd fucked up my day what to do with their phone when a strangled female voice said "Dan? It's Steve – he's had an accident." I barely recognised my sister's strained tones. Momentarily confused I said, "Cathy? Is that you? What sort of accident? Is he okay?" She barely whispered, "No, he isn't. Sorry, I've got to go, there's a nurse saying I've got to switch off my mobile." Starting to feel a sense of dread I snapped, "Fuck her. Where are you?" Cathy just had time to say "The Royal Surrey" then the line went dead. I stared dumbly at my phone, feeling the blood drain from my face. At that moment my boss Barry, a no-nonsense Glaswegian, emerged from the conference room and stalked towards me. "Danny, for Christ's sake..." He stopped when he saw the look on my face. Feeling as if I was hearing someone else speaking, I said, "My brother's in hospital. It sounds bad. I've got to go." Barry can be a hard bastard to work for but I've never known him not to come through for his people. He nodded. "Aye, course you have son. I hope everything's okay." As my taxi splashed its way through the wet London streets I thought about Stevie. My big brother – eight years older than me. He and Cathy had been childhood sweethearts, married at 21, and now with a six-year old son called Josh. At 27 I was still footloose and fancy free, more or less. Steve and I looked a lot alike – a fraction over six feet tall, a mop of brown hair, angular faces with high cheekbones. I'm slimmer than him these days; I used to wind him up about the onset of middle-age spread, like it was some sort of degenerative illness. I felt the acid burn of tears in my eyes as I wondered if I'd ever do that again. What a prat, I thought angrily – the sill sod's probably just broken his arm or something. When I got to the hospital it took me ten minutes to find Accident and Emergency. The moment Cathy saw me she flew into my arms and buried her head in my chest, sobbing. She was too upset to tell me what had happened. After a few minutes I gently sat her down and an exhausted looking young doctor took me to one side. "Mr Preston's had a fall and he's unconscious. He's got multiple fractures and internal haemorrhaging. It's his head injury that worries us most though. His skull's severely fractured and there's little sign of brain activity. Of course, it's early days but I'm afraid Mrs Preston may need to steel herself for the outcome." The doctor didn't know the full details of the accident, but just then Steve's colleague Charlie Wheeler showed up with two plastic cups of grey coloured tea for himself and Cathy, and he explained to me what had happened. They work in a paper mill, and Steve had gone head over heels down a steep metal staircase outside his office, which is suspended on the wall of the building like a swallow's nest. He'd landed on the narrow walkway below the steps, suspended from the rafters, but had somehow slipped under the guard rails and had smacked into the concrete floor 30 feet below. I felt physically sick just thinking about it. The works had closed down for the day, and two women who'd been near Steve when he landed had been treated for shock. When Charlie and I rejoined Cathy she'd recovered some of her composure. She hadn't been able to bring herself to call my parents, so I broke the news to them. They were with us within a half-hour. For the next six hours we sat there, none of us talking, Dad and Charlie going outside for a smoke occasionally, till a nurse told us that there was unlikely to be any immediate change to Steve's condition. We were all dog tired and emotional, and Dad drove each of us home, then took Mum to pack a bag so she could stay with Cathy for a while. For the next three days there were no developments. I was like a zombie at work but Barry, bless him, watched my back for me. On the fourth day my phone rang before five in the morning. I was immediately awake, instinctively knowing it couldn't be good news. "He's gone, love." Mum's voice sounded faraway and dreamy - I wondered if she'd taken some sort of medication. "The hospital just phoned. Stevie passed away about half an hour ago. A heart attack apparently. There was nothing they could do." Then the tears started. It was too early for public transport so I rushed down to Streatham High Road and took a cab. When I got to Cathy's home Mum greeted me at the door and the three of us just sat and hugged and cried for a while. The next couple of weeks were hard. Dad and I sorted out the funeral arrangements and Cathy's death benefits from Steve's pension, and I talked to a compensation lawyer for Cathy. At the same time I had three big projects at work all coming to a head. Every night I got home shattered yet unable to sleep properly. One day, a few weeks after Steve's death, I took Josh out to Chessington World of Adventures for the day, to give Cathy a break. My nephew and I have always been close: I was the naughty uncle who bought him presents he shouldn't have and told him off-colour jokes. Cathy said he had been very withdrawn since it happened, and hadn't said a word about his dad. He loves zoos, and he had a great time on the rides too, screaming with laughter on the rollercoaster. In the café I nipped to the loo, and when I came back Josh was miserably rubbing tears out of his eyes. The lady who'd said she'd watch him for me looked at me helplessly. I ruffled his hair and asked, "Hey, what's up, tiger?" He looked up at me and half-whispered, "I shouldn't be happy when Daddy's dead." I felt myself choking up, but forced a smile as I gave him a hug. "Course you should Josh. Do you think your dad would want you moping round all miserable for evermore? He knew how much you loved him, and he wouldn't want you to go on feeling sad. You're the man of the house now, and you've got to keep your chin up so your mum doesn't worry about you. She'll be unhappy if you are, and you don't want that." He thought about it, sniffed, then nodded. I nearly lost it when he bravely said, "Okay, I'll be happy for Mum." I'd arranged to meet my girlfriend later that evening. It wasn't the greatest idea, but she was an air hostess – flight attendant you're supposed to say now – and was about to go onto a shift pattern that meant we wouldn't see each other for a while. She was a pretty, petite blonde, and we'd been seeing each other since a few weeks before Steve's accident. I was distracted and moody right through dinner, I could see I was upsetting Sandy but I couldn't help myself. She drove me home, but we'd already agreed she wouldn't come in as she had to be up early. As I started to get out of her little sportscar she stopped me and buried her head in my lap. She was always good at blow jobs, but that night it felt as if I was somehow disengaged, watching from the side. I stroked her hair as she licked and sucked my pole, and I came strongly enough, but I felt no real emotion, or even pleasure, from it. Sandy took a sip of bottled water to clean out her mouth then started to kiss me. When I didn't respond she sat back and, sounding a bit irritated, said, "What is it sweetheart?" I shrugged, then shook my head. "Sorry, this just isn't working." She looked perplexed, so I went on, "Us, I mean. It's not you, it's me. I mean, I like you, but that's all." Sandy looked furious. "And it's taken you all this time to decide it's not working, has it? Jesus Christ Dan, you've been like this ever since your sodding brother died. I'm sorry, but it's him they buried, not you." Even though I knew I was being unfair to her, I felt a cold anger. Opening the passenger door I said, "I just don't want to see you again, okay?" I closed the door behind me, quietly, and before I was even through the front door to my block of flats her tyres squealed as she sped off and accelerated round the corner. The next morning I lay in bed wondering whether I should send a bunch of flowers and a grovelling apology to the Chicago hotel I knew she'd be in that night; but in my heart of hearts I knew that, even though I could have handled it a fuck sight better, I'd made the right decision. A few days later, as it was the school half-term, I'd arranged as a special treat to take Josh to a mid-week evening match at Stamford Bridge, between Chelsea and Middlesbrough. When I arrived at Cathy's home I vaguely noticed a flash looking Audi sitting outside. Cathy greeted me at the door looking amazing. She's a tall, willowy girl, 35 – the same age as Steve had been – with shoulder length reddish-brown hair, green eyes that seem to smoulder when she's excited, and a wide mouth with an easy smile. That time though, her smile looked distinctly uneasy. She was made up to perfection and wearing a backless black dress which moulded itself to her slim but shapely figure. As I leaned in to kiss her cheek I caught a whiff of a subtle fruity fragrance. I joked, "Blimey Cath, you look like a million dollars. Maybe I should send Josh to the match on his own and stay in with you instead." Her smile looked even more nervous then. A moment later I discovered the reason. Sitting on the couch in the lounge was a smarmy looking bloke of about 40, clearly the Audi's owner, in an expensively tailored suit. He was unsuccessfully trying to engage Josh in conversation, while my nephew sat next to him concentrating furiously on his Playstation. The guy nodded and gave me a grin, white teeth gleaming in his over-tanned face, then turned to Cathy and purred, "Are you ready, darling?" I was totally thrown by the situation. Suddenly feeling like a spare prick at a wedding I called to Josh, "We off then, tiger?" He leapt to his feet as if he couldn't get out of there quick enough. On the way to the match I casually asked Josh who the bloke was. He said, "His name's Mark. He's a dentist. He's Mum's new friend. They're going somewhere called Romano's." That was an Italian restaurant in Sutton, notorious for its low-lit, intimate little booths – the perfect place for a romantic tête-a-tête. I was so busy thinking about that I almost missed Josh's next comment. "Mum's making lots of new friends at the moment. D'you think Ashley Cole'll be fit tonight?" He was, and he played a part in two of Chelsea's goals, but I couldn't really concentrate on the match. Okay, Steve had been dead over six weeks, Cathy couldn't grieve for ever. That didn't mean she had to start parading a series of men past my nephew though. I felt somehow insulted on my brother's behalf. When I delivered an exhausted Josh home, Mark's car had gone. Cathy was alone, and dressed in a big fluffy towelling dressing gown. She gave me a tired smile and invited me in for a coffee but, unable to meet her eyes, I handed the kid over with barely a word and scuttled off. Cathy called my name, but I didn't turn round. I didn't see Cathy for a couple of weeks after that. Sandy called my mobile a couple of times, but I didn't respond. I did speak to Cathy by phone, twice. Each time I wanted to ask her about Mark, but I couldn't pluck up the nerve. I found it hard to keep a trace of bitterness out of my voice though, and both conversations were awkward and strained, with as much silence as talk. Then one midweek evening I phoned her landline to ask about taking Josh out at the weekend. I got her answerphone, tried her mobile with the same result, and tried a couple more times later on. I started to get worried that she might have got depressed and done something foolish. After all, Josh was back at school, so Cathy must be in. I knew it was stupid even as I started out, but I still went over about nine o'clock to see if she was okay. There were no lights on in the house and my rings on the bell brought no response. I was about to put a note through the letter box when the lady next door poked her head out and said Cathy was out with 'her feller'. Josh was sleeping upstairs in the lady's home. I was furious at her dumping him on a neighbour like that. Obviously Cathy had a right to her own life, but not at the expense of my nephew, my late brother's son. I went through the side gate of her garden and sat on the stone bench there to wait for her. I began to drowse, and was woken by the kitchen light snapping on just before eleven. I decided it was time to have a word with Mark. Only it wasn't Mark. When Cathy opened the door, smartly dressed and breathing whisky fumes on me, she looked furtive and I stormed straight past her into the lounge. Sprawled on the sofa, shoes kicked off and shovel-sized hand wrapped round a can of beer, was a huge bloke in his 30s with a shaved skull, a tattooed dagger on his neck and a muscled body that would have made He-Man green with envy. Cathy followed me into the lounge and, in an icy voice, asked, "Is there something I can do for you Dan?" Not wanting to discuss family business in front of the Incredible Hulk I snapped, "I'd like a word with you, please. In private." Her friend showed no sign of moving, but he began to scowl at me. Cathy's eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. "As you can see, Daniel" – she hadn't called me that since I was six – "I have a guest, so it isn't convenient tonight. You can phone me – in a couple of days." I rounded on her, ready to have it out there and then, but Grizzly Adams clambered to his feet and, in a Liverpool accent, growled, "You heard the lady, pal. She wants you to leave – now." I was clearly heading for a pummelling if I argued with him, so I backed towards the door. Then I said the first thing that came into my head. "Okay mate, it's your choice. I s'pose she has told you about her condition?" The bloke stared from me to Cathy and back again uncertainly. Not knowing what I was going to say from one second to the next, I blundered on. "Well, it's not actually confirmed yet, so you might be all right, but I mean, an HIV test, it's not something you want to mess about with, is it?" In the background I heard my sister gasp in outraged astonishment. Cathy was too gobsmacked at the crap I was talking to find her voice to interrupt me, so I threw in one last turn of the screw. "I thought you were going to stop escorting till the results came through Cath, but I suppose you've got a living to make." I grinned suggestively at the guy. That was when Cathy recovered, kind of. She closed the gap between us with a speed I didn't know she had, and by the time I realised she'd punched me on the jaw I was already sprawled back on the couch. Literally snarling with anger, she snapped, "Graham, he's talking complete bollocks. He's fucking insane." Graham took one look at the wild-eyed, foaming-at-the-mouth woman, in front of him, glanced at me massaging my chin on the couch, and suddenly remembered he had to be up early in the morning. Muttering an apology he raced for the front door. Cathy ran after him but I heard the door slam shut. I didn't mean to but, much as my mouth hurt, I began to chuckle at the situation. Moments later Cathy walked slowly back into the room, her head bowed. She looked up and stared wordlessly at me, her eyes shining with a mixture of brimming tears and sheer incandescent fury. When I saw the look on her face I stopped laughing and considered what a turd I'd just been. Feeling ashamed of myself, I pulled myself to my feet and started to say, "Cath, I'm sorry, I..." I got no further, Like a flash of lightning the pointed toe of Cathy's knee-length boot lashed hard into my shin. I doubled over in pain and she brought her knee up to meet my chin, making me bite my tongue and sending me toppling backwards onto the floor. Before I could react she kicked me in the belly, hard. I curled into a ball, genuinely scared that she was going to give me a real kicking. After a few seconds of nothing I looked up, warily, and saw Cathy had slouched onto the couch, big tears rolling down her cheeks. I tried to start my apology again, but her voice cut across mine like a butcher's knife at my throat. "How dare you?" Her volume rose with every syllable. "How...fucking...DARE YOU? Shut up, I don't want to hear it. Get out of my house, you piece of shit, and don't you ever – EVER – come near me or my son again." The thought briefly crossed my mind that she couldn't ban me from contact with my nephew, but that wasn't the moment to argue the point. Edging carefully round her I crawled to the doorway then scuttled to the front door and out. All the way home I felt sick, and not just from the blood I could taste in my mouth and the ache in my guts where Cathy had kicked me. Her violence had stunned me. Not that I hadn't richly deserved it, but when someone you've always thought of as a kind, sweet friend reacts like that it's somehow far more shocking than it would have been if Graham had half-killed me. Whatever I thought of Steve's widow seeing other men, and her choice of men, what I had done to her was vile. I'd never have done it if I'd had a moment to think, but I let my mouth run away with me. I went straight to bed when I got home, and spent most of the night crying out of pure self-disgust. I left it a day then phoned Cathy. The moment she heard my voice she hung up without a word. I tried several more times but just got the engaged tone. I left it a few more days then tried again. When she answered, my first words were, "Cath, please don't hang up, I need to say something." I waited, expecting a sharp click, but all I heard was ragged, angry breathing. I continued. "Cath, I am the world's biggest shithead, and I know it. I can't say I hate myself as much as you hate me, because I know how deeply I must have hurt you, but I want to say I'm so, so very sorry." I could feel myself beginning to choke up, but I pressed on. "I've got no business trying to interfere in your life, or making judgements on you. If you really never want to see me again I'll understand, but I love you like you were my sister, and I'm begging you not to shut me out. I want to be there for you, and for Josh." She was silent for so long that I thought she may have broken the connection, but as I started to say her name she muttered, "I'm here." The silence went on and on, maybe for two minutes, then she said, "I don't think I've ever been so humiliated, Dan. I thought you really cared about me, and I couldn't believe you could say things like that about me, whatever your motive. Maybe you thought it was funny, but it was just nasty." Another long pause; I wanted to tell her of course I cared about her, but I sensed it would be wrong to speak at that moment. She finally continued, her voice quavering with emotion. "It's so hard for me. I haven't got any close friends anymore, all our friends were Stevie's. I know you and Jim and Sally (my parents) have done your best, but when I do see you you're all over Josh, and it's almost like I'm in the way. I'm sorry if that sounds selfish, but it's how I feel. I find myself sitting here night after night, putting Josh to bed, drowning myself in alcohol and listening to the hall clock tick my life away. And I think, is this really it? I'm still young Danny, I don't deserve this! There are times when I get so bloody angry at Steve for leaving me alone. Sometimes it feels like I died with him. I like eating out, I like the theatre, I like dancing, Steve and I didn't do it much, but enough to keep me happy. I started feeling like I'd never do it again. I can't just switch my entire existence off, for my own sanity I have to get out of here, and meet people, if only to prove to myself that I'm not lying in the ground next to Steve." My Brother's Widow I tried to contain the huge sob that had built up in my chest, but I couldn't. Screwing up my eyes against the tears I mumbled, "I know you do Cath, I'm so sorry." Neither of us said much for a bit, just cried to each other down the line; then I sniffed and said, "Cath...I like going out too. Let me take you out to dinner one night, anywhere you like, please. I don't mean on a date, just for me to start trying to make it up to you." It wouldn't have surprised me if she'd told me to fuck off there and then, but after a few seconds she said, "Let me think about it" and abruptly hung up. Not expecting to hear from her for a few days, if at all, I slumped in front of my TV with a can of beer, feeling sorry for myself. The phone rang after about 10 minutes. Before I'd even spoken, Cathy's voice said, "Okay, Claridges, any day next week." I didn't know if she thought I'd back down at that, but I replied, "Okay, great, I'll make a booking and let you know when. I'll even book you a taxi to get you there and home. Thanks Cath." She replied, "I'm still mad at you", and hung up. I broke out in a cold sweat when I thought about what I'd agreed to. Cathy had intentionally picked the most expensive restaurant in London, run by a controversial TV chef, in possibly the most up-its-own-arse hotel in Europe! They were probably booked up until the next Ice Age. Not only that, I'd also committed myself to a taxi fare of sixty quid or more. Oh well, bang went the widescreen quadraphonic satellite TV I'd promised myself. I called in a favour at work and got one of my senior colleagues to get us a table, but even then it was on a Tuesday, the week after Cathy had specified, and only available due to a late cancellation – probably Brad and Angelina, I thought nastily. When I told Cathy she simply said, "Fine", and hung up. Mum told me Cathy had asked her to look after Josh, confirming we were really on, and I waited nervously for the day to arrive. Meantime I sent my one dinner jacket and matched trousers to the dry cleaners. I had only ever worn the suit once, when I graduated from uni, and I had to get it from my old wardrobe at Mum's house. I took it into work with me on the Tuesday, together with a fancy white shirt I had to buy cufflinks for, and a black clip-on bow tie. Once I thought all my colleagues had gone home for the evening I nipped to the gents' and changed, feeling a bit of an idiot: I always hate dressing up. I stepped out of the toilet straight into two of my friends, who immediately started chortling. One of them sang a few bars of the James Bond theme then, in a bad Scottish accent, growled "The name'sh Twat...Jamesh Twat". I laughed it off; to be perfectly honest, despite not enjoying wearing it, I thought I looked pretty good in the outfit. As it was quite early I walked across St James's Park and Green Park from Whitehall to Mayfair, attracting more than a few curious glances from passers-by. I hung around outside the hotel waiting for Cathy's taxi, ignoring the top-hatted doorman looking down his nose at me. When she arrived my sister looked absolutely stunning. She'd had her hair shortened a little and styled, and was wearing an ankle-length off-the-shoulder black dress, together with a chunky gold necklace and matching bracelet. She removed a pashmina from her bare shoulders, and in the light from the hotel's windows her pale skin glowed as if it was luminous. I wondered if her plan had been to try to show me up, and I breathed a silent prayer of thanks that I'd decided to wear the DJ. I told Cath how amazing she looked. I could see she was surprised when she looked me up and down, but she just muttered, "You look hmmpphh" and swept past me into the building. As we were a bit early a flunky directed us to the cocktail lounge by the restaurant. That was fun – I tried to make light conversation and Cathy completely blanked me, just stared over my shoulder and sipped her Manhattan. I assumed the quoted prices were for a litre jug of each drink, but in fact they were for a single glass. When we made our way to the peach coloured restaurant the Maître d', having carefully checked to see that I really did have a booking, instructed a waiter to show us to our table. I took one look at the menu and momentarily lost my appetite. There weren't individual prices for the dishes, just a fixed price of £70 – each - for three courses, plus a 'discretionary' 12.5 per cent added to the bill. We ordered our ridiculously overblown starters, plus a bottle of wine at a mere £45, then waited in silence for the food to come. I did no more than wet my lips with the wine, trying to make it last as long as possible. As Cathy started to tuck into her tarted-up crab salad I couldn't stand the angry silence any longer. Pushing my starter to one side, I said, "Cathy, I truly am sorry for what I did that night. It was a horrible thing to say, and I had absolutely no right. I'm sorry I scared your, um, friend away..." My voice tailed off. Cathy had stopped eating and was staring down at her plate. Her shoulders began to shake and I thought she was about to burst into tears; then I realised to my utter astonishment that she was actually giggling! Looking up at me, her eyes sparkling, she said, "He was pretty awful, wasn't he? Oh, Danny. Honestly, HIV! I'm not sure who I was more furious at, you for coming up with a plotline from a bad US sitcom or him for believing you! And as for that other one you met, Mark, ugh, he made my flesh crawl. I can't keep this up - let's be friends again Dan, I like it much more when we are. I'm sorry about this place" – she waved her hand at the crowded dining room – "I'd never have suggested it if I'd thought for a moment you'd actually manage to get a table here!" At that moment the only thing I felt was relief that Cath had put my stupidity behind her. I grinned like an idiot and said, "That's okay Cath, you're worth every penny, and more. Anyway, now we're here let's make the most of it." After two more ludicrously rich courses we both felt like a bit of fresh air, so we wandered across Berkeley Square to Green Park tube station. It was a warm evening and after all that food and wine I was glad to remove my jacket and tie. Cath slipped her arm round my waist and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to place mine around her shoulders. I offered to honour my promise of getting her a taxi home but she said no, and we sat together on the train, she dozing on my shoulder. I was incredibly aware of the softness of her small soft breast pressing against my chest, and I prayed that she wouldn't wake up to see the stonking great unwanted erection that was tenting my trousers. As we were strolling towards her home, Cathy said, "Danny, did I say how handsome I thought you looked tonight in that suit? God, this evening must have cost you two hundred pounds." Yeah, I thought, and the rest. She continued, "I feel so guilty about it – let me go halves with you, please." It was tempting, or course, but I told her I wouldn't hear of it: I'd invited her out to apologise to her, and there was no way I was going to let her pick up any of the tab. She shrugged, then said, "Okay then, you can choose the restaurant next time, and I'll pay." I was delighted to hear her say there'd be a next time and, with a big grin, I said, "Great, how about a salmonella burger from that van outside the DIY store?" For a moment she looked worried then, totally deadpan, she replied, "Well, just so long as you don't expect me to shell out for fries with it!" We actually went out again on the Saturday. Josh slept over with my parents and we ate at a lively Russian restaurant in Chelsea, then went to a nearby club which does '70s and '80s nights. We both threw ourselves around to old classic pop tracks, laughing and getting sweaty, but my favourite was the dance we had to the Commodores' Three Times A Lady, holding each other close, our eyes locked. Between dances we chatted, naturally drifting into reminiscences of our past. Probably thrown off my guard by a combination of the booze I'd had and the sheer relief at us being friends again, I started to tell Cathy, "You know, I used to be so jealous of Steve, you were..." I stopped, wondering how I'd started down that path and thinking the anecdote I was about to tell Cathy would probably piss her off with me again. She smiled and frowned with curiosity. "Go on, I was what? You know I'm just going to nag you now till you tell me." She reached across and tickled my hips and I snorted with laugher and squirmed. Recovering, I took a deep breath and plunged in. "What I was going to say was you were the first girl I ever saw naked, well, semi-naked." Cathy gave a little gasp of surprise and stared at me with her mouth open, but she looked more amused than angry so I carried on. "There was a central heating vent between my room and Steve's, and if I pulled out the grill on my side I could squeeze my face into the gap and see into his room. I used to watch the two of you in there. One day, I suppose I was about 10, I was watching and – God, this is embarrassing Cath – Steve unbuttoned your shirt then you reached back and undid your bra and took it off, then Steve put out the light. I nearly fell off my bed when I saw you! That image of you was burned into my brain." Cathy continued to stare at me and I waited for her reaction. To my relief, after a couple of seconds she almost fell off her chair with laughter. She shrieked, "Steve always thought you were spying on us, you dirty little sod! I used to say things like, in that case we'd better give you something worth seeing." We both laughed, and I told her, "For years I was jealous of Steve. I never really dated girls at school, because I'd always compare them to you. I hope Steve realised how lucky he was." It was a stupid thing to say. Cathy's lip trembled and I cursed myself. She sipped her wine, then after a silence of nearly a minute, not looking at me but gazing at the swirling dancers, she murmured, "You made me jealous too, once." I looked at her quizzically. She turned to me and said, "It was at your cousin's wedding, about three years ago. D'you remember, Natalie Groves was a bridesmaid? I got talking to her at the reception, and she told me you were the best bloke at oral sex she'd ever met; it sounded as if she was a bit of an expert! For the next month I couldn't look at you without blushing, and wondering..." I felt myself blush under Cathy's amused gaze. Nat and I were an item on and off for about three years but, while it was quite flattering, I couldn't believe she'd said that to my own sister! I was desperately trying to think of something witty to say in reply when Cath jumped to her feet and held out her hand to me. "Anyway, come on, I came here to dance, remember? Burn baby burn..." Singing along to the song that had just started playing, she grabbed my hand and dragged me back out onto the floor. I might have expected the atmosphere between us to be strained after those little confessions, but in fact it wasn't at all. We laughed and joked together, and walked to the tube station with our arms linked. When we reached Cathy's stop, though, we were both a bit subdued, and walked silently, hand in hand, to her front door. As on the previous occasion, my cock stiffened simply from her nearness. When we reached the front door, Cathy turned to me and, her eyes on her feet, said hesitantly, "Danny? You know how you said these weren't dates, just friends going out together? Well, I...I kind of wish they were dates." With that she gave me a kiss on the cheek and scurried indoors, almost as if she was scared she was about to do something we both might regret. I made my way home to Streatham in a state of perplexity, the confidences we'd shared during the evening whirling through my mind. Cathy and I didn't make contact for the next few days, but she was hardly ever out of my thoughts. I couldn't deny I fancied her – I had done since I was nine years old – and she'd given me the strongest possible hints that my feelings were reciprocated. But even so, I still thought of her as Steve's wife, totally out of bounds. When I was a kid I'd read how in olden days, if a knight was killed in battle, his brother was expected to marry his widow. I used to have this fantasy where Steve died some brave, noble death, and I went to the grieving Cathy and...I thought about that after he did his nosedive at the paper mill, and it made me feel as guilty as hell. Now I was actually contemplating it for real! It would just seem wrong, almost like incest, but every time I thought of Cathy my heart started racing and I got a warm glow in my loins. When Cathy phoned me at work on the Thursday after our bop I felt my stomach clench nervously. She sounded nervous too, coming across artificially bright and breezy on the phone. "Oh hi Danny, I just wondered, if you've got nothing better to do that is, whether you might fancy coming over for dinner tomorrow night, although it's okay if you don't, I mean..." I interrupted her before she talked herself out of it. "I'd love to Cath. Just tell me what time to show up." We agreed the details and I walked around with a silly smile on my face for the rest of the day. I rushed home on the Friday and had a long hot shower. I'd eaten at Steve and Cathy's loads of times, of course, and usually it was just a jeans and T-shirt job, but this time I felt I should make a bit of an effort. I put on a nice suit and tie, and applied a bit of the expensive Hugo Boss eau de cologne that I only use on special occasions. Just as I was leaving, as an afterthought, I slipped my toothbrush into my pocket. Well, I thought, you never know. On the way to grab a taxi I stopped off at an off licence and bought a very nice bottle of pinot grigio. My stomach was clenching with nerves all the way over to Cathy's. I told myself I was being a prat: nothing was going to happen, we were just going to relax together, have a nice meal and enjoy our close personal friendship; that was all. Cathy must have been looking out for me because her front door opened as I reached for the bell. As usual she looked lovely, in a glossy purple dress with a V-neck plunging towards her bust. I noticed that with it she was wearing an amber pendant I'd bought her for her 34th birthday. I immediately noticed she didn't seem to be wearing a bra. She stood back and looked me up and down then said, "Mm, you scrub up quite well really." Then she leaned close and added, "Cor, you smell nice too." She gave me a hurried peck on the cheek then led me into the lounge. At the far end Josh was at the dining table, finishing his tea of fish fingers and chips. While Cathy slipped my wine in the fridge and prepared our meal, Josh spent a while humiliating me at several computer games. Then I took him up to bed and had a play fight with him, which helped to tire him out. When I returned downstairs, it was as if I had entered a different room. The bright electric light in the lounge had been dimmed, and the flickering light from a table candelabra glinted off two cut glass crystal wine flutes. They were set on a deep red tablecloth, together with sparkling silver cutlery. Slow, sensual classical music whispered from the stereo unit. I saw my wine on the table, together with a corkscrew, and opened the bottle. Cath heard me and called from the kitchen "Have a seat Dan, I'll be out in a moment." The dinner was delicious: tender lamb followed by a light treacle sponge. Our conversation was stilted, with each of us waiting for the other to speak, both starting at the same time then apologising with embarrassed laughs. We talked about all sorts of things: how my work was going; how Josh was getting on at school; my folks; holiday plans; just about everything except what was going to happen when we finished eating. Throughout the meal I wanted to stand and take Cathy in my arms, but I felt it should be her choice to make the first move – if there was a first move. After the meal I offered to do the washing up, but Cath said, "Oh leave it, I'll just chuck it in the dishwasher tomorrow. Sit down, Ill make us coffee." I sat on the couch and removed my tie; a couple of minutes later, she joined me. She sat very close, her thigh resting against mine, making blood rush towards my cock. We sat mostly in silence, just murmuring the occasional comment. She still hadn't shown any sign that she was offering me more than dinner and, wondering if I'd misjudged the situation, I started making noises about catching my last bus. Cathy inclined her body towards me and smiled tiredly, perhaps a little drunkenly. Then she placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "Relax Danny. We both know you're not going to be on that bus." We made a joint decision to kiss. It was gentle and loving, our arms slipping around each other's necks, my fingertips caressing Cathy's bare upper back. Instantly my cock was stiffer than I could ever remember. With some girls I've been with, the animal in me would have pushed them back on the couch and shagged them right there, and they'd have loved it. But that wouldn't have been right with Cathy. After a minute or so I felt her fumbling for my hand and, easing me to my feet, she blew out the candles and led me up the stairs to her bedroom – hers and Steve's bedroom. Inside Cathy switched on a small table lamp in one corner. We started to kiss again, and Cathy began unbuttoning my shirt. I jumped slightly as her fingers stroked across my nipple, which stiffened to her touch. I fumbled to undo her dress but couldn't find any fastenings. She stood back, laughing silently, and it turned out there were small zips just below each armhole. The garment slipped to the floor and she stepped out of it, standing before me in only a tiny pair of black silky panties. Her breasts were every bit as beautiful as I remembered, perhaps a little larger, but still small and pert. Her belly was smooth and flat. I felt a sudden tremor of nerves and, turning away from Cathy, sat on the edge of the bed and quickly stripped and slipped under the duvet. Cathy laughed again, then dropped her panties and slipped in beside me. I pulled her to me and kissed her, revelling in the silky warmth of her skin. She responded for a few seconds then pulled away and lay on her back. She sighed then whispered, "I'm sorry Danny, but...fuck, this feels strange, being in bed with you. I mean, I've thought about nothing else for the last week or so, but...I suppose I still think of you as my bloke's kid brother. Being here, next to you...Would you mind very much if we just cuddled up for a while?" I smiled, and touched her arm, I hoped reassuringly. "Of course I wouldn't Cath. I know exactly what you mean. We don't have to do anything you don't want, ever." She gave me a huge smile then and kissed me on the nose as she slid into my arms. I can't pretend it wasn't a trial, lying there with her soft breasts resting against me, my legs intertwined with hers while I arched back my groin to keep my aching erection from touching her. We kissed tenderly, just tasting the tips of each other's tongues, and plucking gently at each other's lower lips with our teeth, my hands unmoving in the small of her back while hers stroked my back, driving me crazy. After a few minutes I forgot myself and cupped a hand to one of her breasts. I immediately realised and withdrew it, but she caught it and returned it to her boob. She nuzzled her nose into my neck and whispered, "That's okay, it's nice...comforting." I cupped her smooth skin and stroked my thumb across the nipple and Cathy sighed, opening her mouth to my tongue. After a couple more minutes I decided that if I was caressing one tit it was probably okay to kiss the other. I dipped my head down and closed my lips over her nipple. She moaned with pleasure, and cradled my head to her. I gently grazed her dug with my teeth, and mumbled, "Oh my God, I've wanted to do this for so long." My Brother's Widow We spent a while like that, my mouth circulating between each of Cathy's breasts and her mouth, with my hand continuing to do its part while the other rested passively on the softness of one of her buttocks. Much as I was enjoying it, I began to wish for sleep to come to put me out of my agony of desire. As if Cath had read my thoughts, at that moment her hand brushed my prick, making me gasp, and she murmured into my mouth, "It's okay Danny, I'm ready now." I rolled gratefully between her legs and moved the tip of my erection to her opening. Just as I was about to push on she placed a hand on my chest and, as if it was desperately important to tell me, whispered, "Danny – I never slept with any of those men, you know." I told her it didn't matter, even as I silently rejoiced at that revelation. Then I entered her, delicately, pushing slowly all the way into her and staying still for a moment, just enjoying the feeling I'd spent almost 20 years imagining. She was already very wet, and blast-furnace hot. I started gently, not wanting to hurt her, but she began to grunt and thrust up at me, and I realised that wasn't what she wanted. As I began to increase my power and pace she confirmed it, muttering, "Yeah, that's it, fuck me hard, oh yeah, come on." I began to really slam into her and her tongue slipped out of her mouth as she moaned with lust. I didn't expect to last long, but in fact Cathy came first, heaving up at me and whimpering as her legs locked tight around me. As she came she breathed, "Yes Stevie", then her eyes opened with a look of momentary horror and she gasped, "Oh God, sorry Danny, oh fuck that's great!" To be honest I was enjoying myself so much I wouldn't even have noticed her verbal slip if she hadn't mentioned it. I lasted a few more minutes, during which time Cathy came at least once more, raking her fingernails down my back and bum and wailing my name, before I surged into her, mashing my mouth onto hers as I climaxed. I continued to kiss her and, as we came up for air, she whispered, "Hm, serve you right if I did have bloody HIV", then we both collapsed in giggles. As I moved off Cathy to lie beside her, she leaned up on an elbow, trailing her fingers lazily through my sparse chest hair, and murmured, "Jesus, I really needed that. I get the feeling you did, too." She chuckled and, maybe thinking back to her mistake when she climaxed, she kissed me and said, "It was lovely. No mistaking you for Steve in bed." I didn't really want to hear my former sister talking about what my brother had been like between the sheets, and a frown must have crossed my face. Cathy's eyes fell and she whispered, "Sorry" and padded to the en-suite bathroom. I heard the sound of water splashing, and Cathy emerged, running a towel between her legs, possibly to show me she'd freshened herself up. Then she got back into bed and pressed her now cool body to mine. I cuddled her, rubbing warmth back into her arms and back, and kissed her deeply, to show I wasn't upset, then slipped a hand across her stomach and the soft mat of her neatly trimmed pubic hair. She sighed as I eased a finger into her and began to stroke it around. Pressing her forehead against my cheek, she murmured, "The thing is, Danny, Steve was such a good husband in so many ways, but he was, well, quite conventional in others. There were things he didn't like doing..." I wasn't angry that time; I guessed what she was hinting at, and began to lick my way down her body. She shivered and giggled in nervous anticipation, resting the flat of her hands on the top of my head. Positioning myself between her thighs, I gazed at my target. Her pussy was as beautiful as the rest of her, hairless with puffy lips, slightly red from our lovemaking and the towel she'd used. She twitched as I eased them apart with my fingers, then I blew gently on her inner flesh and she squeaked. I glanced up and saw her tightly grasp her boobs, kneading them. I inhaled deeply – she smelt of lavender soap – then took a long, languorous lick, from the very edge of her tightly puckered bum hole, up her perineum and the length of her gash, pushing the tip of my tongue into her. She moaned loudly and squirmed. I eased the hood off her little clit and began to poke and lick it, sideways-on which gave my fingers lots of room to work into her and scooch around. Her moan turned into one long growl of pleasure as I tongued her clit, occasionally dropping it down into her hole as I fucked her with my fingers, stroking them around her tender flesh and her labia. She was surprisingly tight, and I loved the sensation. As she really heated up she started to rock from side to side, and her legs curled up around my head, trying to pull me more deeply into her. When I sensed she was about to cum I swapped my hands and face over, driving my nose and tongue into her as I tweaked her clit with one hand and pushing two fingers up her bum and reaming her with the other. I'd never had that done to me, but I've found some girls go crazy with the feeling the double penetration gives them. Cath did, bucking around wildly, and I heard a long, muffled scream and knew she'd clapped a pillow over her face to try not to wake Josh. I felt her muscles clench and her pussy flood with the sweet, rich taste of her release then she flopped back with a huge sigh. I moved up the bed and kissed her deeply, giving her a taste of herself. Her eyes seemed glazed – she looked almost dazed – but she gave me a lopsided smile and murmured, "Oh God Danny, I do love you." I teared up at that, and hugged her so tightly I was in danger of crushing her. I did manage to get some sleep that night, but not much! I was woken at around seven in the morning by the most wonderful feeling, and looked down to see Cath stroking her tongue up my balls before taking my cock into her mouth, a finger worming its way into my bum. We could hardly bare to be away from each other after that first time. We left it a few days before we told Josh I was coming to live with them, although I think he'd already worked it out by then. We left it a while longer to tell my parents but, to my relief, they were delighted for both of us. We told them and Josh together, on Cathy's birthday, that we'd shortly be giving him a new baby sister. I think my six-year old nephew was the only one of us who didn't shed any tears that day! We've decided to get married next year, and my old flame Natalie Groves has already agreed to be a bridesmaid – after all, she did play a part in bringing us together! Neither of us will ever forget Steve, of course, and we'll always love him, but I'm so grateful that I can now love Cathy as I always wanted to. I've never felt so happy and fulfilled, she Josh and I are a real family, and just knowing she loves me as much as I adore her carries me through every long second I'm apart from her.