Chapter 27 - sier

My sister, nearly in tears, had buried her face in my chest.

"Is something wrong with me, Tony?" she asked between shaky breaths. I held her as we sat on her bed together, patting her shoulder, comforting her like a big brother should.

"No, Emma, no. There's nothing wrong with you. So you're attracted to women, too? You experimented a little? So have millions of others like you. There's nothing wrong or right about it. It just is."

"But the Church says—"

I cut her off, gently. "Now come on, sis. You and I agreed before that the Church has no business telling anyone what to think about any of this. Not with their record. You're not going to buy into that now, are you?"

"But Mom and Dad do. What if they find out?"

"But that's not going to happen, is it? You don't have to tell them anything. They'll never hear about it from me, I promise you. Unless you want to tell them, and then I'll stand beside you all the way."

I had come back to visit my family home to try to explain to everyone why I was not going to be married anymore, after five years with Dianna. As if I understood it myself.

And now I had walked into a different crisis. It would have been almost a relief from my own, were it not my baby sister in distress.

"Look," I continued, "not saying you should necessarily, but suppose you decide you like guys more. You're going to have plenty to choose from this fall. Then this never has to come up at all. Only you and I will know, and I would rather die than reveal a secret of yours.

"Yeah I know, you'll have plenty of women to choose from too. If you want to date them, and you want to be open and honest with the world about it, that's the time you will want to tell Mom and Dad, and I will be with you. You just call me. The world is changing, Emma, and even they will have to admit it's for the better. Don't give up on them. You might be surprised."

She sighed and lifted her head to look at me. Her curly blonde hair fell back to the sides, revealing the beginnings of a smile returning. "You make too much sense, Tony. It's hard for a girl to get a good cry going. Thank you. You are the best brother anyone could ask for."

Then she leaned in to kiss me quickly on the lips, in her familiar way. It was always just a quick peck, a sweet sisterly gesture. I think she started doing that when she was thirteen and I had just graduated from college. Maybe it was at my wedding. But now she was eighteen and this time was different.

This time she kissed me for long seconds, as her soft lips bloomed against mine.

When she pulled back, she said, "I'm sorry Tony, I didn't mean to do that, I mean, I did mean to kiss you, but I guess I must have been thinking of someone else. Don't think I'm bad, please."

"It's all right, sis," I told her. "I can imagine your feelings being all mixed up right now. I remember being your age. It was simpler for me, but I was still a mess sometimes, just over which girl I wanted to go out with. Don't sweat it, and I won't."

"Okay, big brother. Thanks again. I'm gonna stay here and think things over some more. See you at dinner?"

"Sure."

I got up, releasing her from the embrace I suddenly realized I had kept her in for a good minute. I gave her a quick wave at the doorway, left her bedroom and walked down the upstairs hallway toward my own. How could I explain to anyone, even myself, why her kiss had started a flame burning inside me? Should I ask the world not to think I was bad?

I've loved her since the day she was born.

Dad woke me up that night before driving Mom to the hospital. It was one in the morning and I was supposed to stand watch over the house while they were gone. What I was going to do if anything happened during the night was a mystery to me. I was nine. I suppose they wanted to feel like someone was there, and I was the oldest.

So I sat at the venerable, scarred oak dining table and played the radio, softly, and read some. When I tired of reading for a bit, I tuned across the AM band and listened for stations from far away. They were distinguished by the way they would fade in and out, sometimes slowly, sometimes so rapidly, like a guitar tremolo, that I could hardly make out what the program was. Sometimes two or three stations could be heard on the same frequency, their programs mixing together into a jumble, with strange whistling sounds that I later learned were caused by the mixing of their waves with those on adjacent frequencies. It was a thrill when a station identified itself as being two, three, four states, or even half the continent away.

The sun was up, the signals had faded out, and I had gone back to reading when Dad returned.

"Mom hasn't delivered yet," he said, and was gathering up some things to take back with him.

My brothers were up, having been awakened by the sun and Dad's arrival. There was Matt, eight, and Scott, six, both with Mom's blond hair. They came downstairs and looked at me, silently questioning.

"Mom's at the hospital having her baby," I said. "Dad had me stay up all night and watch for you guys."

"What for?" asked Matt.

"I guess if you got sick or something, I don't know."

"I hope we have a sister. There are enough of us boys," said Scott.

"You think you should have been a girl?" Matt taunted him.

"No, butthead. You should have been a girl."

"All right, knock it off, you guys," I said, exercising my great authority of nine years. "I'm going to take a nap. Try not to beat each other up and wake me up if you get sick or something."

Mom brought Emma home two days later. For the first time I was old enough to be allowed to hold a new baby. Mom showed me the right way to do it, making sure to support her head, and placed her onto my waiting arms.

She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her tiny face with its perfectly formed features, topped by a wisp of golden hair, almost made me shiver. I thought of this infant in my arms growing up to become a running, playing girl, then later a woman. I thought about myself having started out this way, as a bundle that would fit on someone's lap with room to spare. I was filled with awe for the few minutes I held her.

When she started walking, Mom and I would help her practice. Mom would stand her up on the living room carpet, Emma dressed in her pink onesie. I would sit on the floor five feet away and hold out my hands. She would let go of Mom's hands and start off, a little unsteadily, one step at a time, across the gap. When she reached me, she would grab my hands and laugh with joy. Once she started talking, she quickly learned all our names and would say, "Tohhhh-nee" when she reached for me.

Two years after she was born Mom and Dad gave her a sister, Janie. It was exactly like they decided she should have someone closer to her age to bond with, after six years since the last boy. I have often thought that the original coining of the phrase "don't ask, don't tell" was to describe the practical Catholic's attitude toward birth control. They may believe, as they are taught, that children are a gift from God, but many a couple, just between themselves, aren't shy about asking God to hold off just a bit with the next gift. Just a few years. What the Pope doesn't know won't hurt him.

Janie was another beautiful baby, with Dad's darker hair and strong features. My brothers and I loved her right away, but she was destined to be Emma's special companion. Once Janie could walk, the two of them would seldom be seen apart until school separated them. They competed, and sometimes fought, but at the end of each day they were each other's only sister. She was named Jane as far as the authorities knew, but to her family, friends, and lovers she would always be Janie.

I was seventeen, and my radio listening had moved up from the AM band to the short waves. I had saved money from summer jobs and bought an old Hallicrafters S-120. The programs I heard now came from places like Havana, Quito, London, Hilversum, and Monrovia.

I remember one evening in late spring. I was tuning around when Emma came into my room.

"Tony, what are you listening to?"

"It's the radio, Emma. But it's radio from very far away. You want to listen with me? Come sit by me so you can see."

I had a second chair for visitors at my listening desk. She climbed up into it. According to my listening log and notes from the World Radio TV Handbook, I had tuned into the Spanish service of Radio Brasil, beamed at the Americas.

"What language is that?" she asked.

"They're speaking Spanish," I said, pointing at the world map on the wall next to the desk. "This station is in Brazil, in South America. Now, in Brazil, most people speak Portuguese, but the station is transmitting to this whole side of the world, and most other people in South America and Central America speak Spanish."

"Where are we, Tony?" She meant on the map.

I pointed to our location inside the United States.

"We are here, in the United States, in North America. This radio station is here, in Brasilia. You see how far away it is? You know the world is like a ball, right? Well, Brasilia is almost a quarter way around the ball from us."

"Wow, that's a long way. How big is the world?"

"You know how far it is to Aunt Mary's? That's about ten miles. From here to Brasilia is about five thousand miles," I said, estimating the distance on the fly. "To get to the other side of the world, we would have to travel about twelve thousand miles."

Her ocean-blue eyes got wide. "Wow! That's big! And we can hear them talk that far away?"

"That's right, on the radio. You can hear people all over the world."

"That's like magic. Do you know magic?"

"Nope, this is just ordinary stuff. You'll learn about it in school."

"Okay."

We listened for a few minutes. The news program gave way to music, a lively samba.

"Ooh, this is good!" she piped. She clapped her hands in time with the rhythm.

"Dance with me, Tony!" She was laughing as she dropped out of the chair and held out her hands.

It was too much. I didn't know the first thing about dancing to a samba, but that hardly mattered. I took her hands and we did the little-kid dance, just circling around each other like planets around their gravitational center. I made sure to change directions every few times around so we wouldn't get dizzy.

The tune ended and she, energized, cried "Yay! Gotta go now! See you later!" Gravity was suddenly abolished and she went off on a tangential path that led straight out the door of my room.

"Bye!" I called after her, but she was already gone.

She would be back though, many times over the next year, to sit and listen with me. This is one of my favorite memories of her.

I met Dianna in my second year at State U. She showed up in the Philosophy class that I was taking to satisfy my general education requirements. She was obviously bright, often asking the lecturer penetrating questions that led to lively class discussion. She was also stone gorgeous, with long dark hair framing a classic face with hazel eyes and high cheekbones, and a curvaceous body that she usually hid, with only partial success, under a buttoned-down style of collegiate dress.

The question of how to meet her arose. She may well be out of my league, I told myself, but this was college. At least give it the proverbial old college try.

I hit on the ploy of chatting her up after class about some point of the lecture or about a question she had raised. It might have been obvious, but I did hold an advantage: I was doing well enough in the class to be able to make reasonably intelligent conversation about the content.

My first chance came early in the semester. The professor was discussing Pythagoras, and mentioned the golden ratio as one of his discoveries. Dianna raised her hand and said, "I read the reference cited in the lecture notes, but the explanation there of how the golden ratio is defined doesn't make sense. Is there a way I can understand it easily?"

The professor, probably not interested in the mathematical details, sidestepped the question by handwaving at other references. She seemed to accept the answer. But I happened to know this one.

After class ended I approached her.

"Hi, Dianna, is it? I'm Tony. About your question, I think the explanation in that reference had some words missing, but I remember this from geometry that I took last year."

I had a pencil and paper out already, and was drawing a rectangle with its longer side horizontal.

"Suppose this rectangle has sides in the golden ratio. What that means is, suppose I draw a square on top of it that just fits, that is, its side is equal to the longer side of the rectangle. Now ignore the line that was the top of the rectangle for a moment. There is now a larger rectangle, and this one has the same proportion as the original rectangle."

I was drawing on the paper to illustrate, but also watching her face. She was interested in what I was saying.

"From this drawing, you can set up an algebra equation to find what number the golden ratio must be. It turns out that the answer contains a square root—another concept that Pythagoras discovered."

"Hey, that's interesting! It fits, doesn't it? Thanks Tony, I like your explanation."

Now, did I make my move then? No. There's obvious and then there's too obvious. I gave her my best smile, wished her a good day and moved on. The result was that she now saw me as someone to trade ideas with. My best chance would come later.

One day when the class had been covering Aquinas, she remarked to me that it was interesting to see where the attitudes of the Catholic Church toward science and knowledge had come from.

"I was raised Catholic," she said, "and it was always clear that the Church had no problem with things like evolution, cosmic time scales, the age of the Earth, and so on, unlike some of the evangelical Protestants right up to today. And it's really because of Aquinas."

"Oh, it so happens that I was raised Catholic, too," I said. "Raised" was serving as a code word for us, as often happens. "That was always my experience as well. Where did you grow up, Dianna?"

"I'm from St. Paul originally," she said with a sudden smile, "but my family moved near here just two years ago, after I finished high school. It made going here an easy choice. What about you, Tony?"

"My family is from Greenville. They've been there for two generations back. So this is my first time in the 'big city'."

"Greenville's not so small. I've been there."

This was it; we were talking about ourselves now. I invited her to go for coffee with me at the student union. Fortunately she was free the next hour. She was so different from the girls I had dated in high school. Her interest in ideas was passionate. She was an English major, and was resigned to the fact that her employment options would be limited. It was the life of the mind that mattered.

"I'm so glad I got my party phase out of the way my first year," she said. "It was fun for a while, but it got old, and there's so much more going on here that I can spend my time on."

I was on the same wavelength, as an Anthropology major bound for graduate study, and made sure she knew that. At the end of our coffee date I asked her to dinner.

On our first real date, we talked about philosophy and about our life experiences and plans over tapas at a cozy pub just down the hill from campus. She wore a dress that showed her stunning figure to best effect, quite unlike her usual school clothes. We were seated near the enclosed fireplace that was the centerpiece of the room, soaking in its cheery glow and warmth. We lingered late, killing a bottle of wine in the course of increasingly personal and revealing conversation.

I remember her asking at one point, "Do you ever get the feeling, when you're very involved in some activity or scene, that right now is a memory that you'll keep for the rest of your life?"

I said, "I have had that sometimes, and you know, I always do remember it. The trouble is, it doesn't always turn out to have been an important or crucial moment. Just a moment that struck me at the time."

"But sometimes it is important, and I think those you always do remember."

We talked until almost eleven, then returned to her dorm lounge, where we found a secluded corner with a comfortable sofa and shared several tentative, then warm kisses before saying goodnight.

I called her the next day. We were off to a great start.

When I came to pick her up on our second date, she hugged me and took me upstairs briefly to meet her roommate, Dora, a nice young woman whom I unfortunately remember nothing else about. Dianna was showing me off! Or else, and more likely, getting an outside opinion. Either way, a good sign.

We walked over to the Theatre Arts building to see a student production of Much Ado About Nothing, which was delightful: everyone on stage was putting their whole heart into their performance, relishing every little jibe and joke in the dialogue and comically overstating the physical actions with glee. Afterward we sat together over a beer at Patrick's, and she filled me in about some bits of Elizabethan innuendo that I had missed.

Near the end of the evening, as we were supposedly headed back toward the dorms, she slipped her hand into mine and we went for a stroll around the campus, trying to make our time last. Underneath the bell tower we stopped and she turned to me, taking both my hands.

"Tony, I feel so at home with you," she said. "I can see us becoming close so easily. If it's not too early for you, can you tell me if you feel anything like the same way about me?"

"Honestly? I used to dream about meeting someone like you, Dianna. We can take it slow if you want to, but I see you in my future."

"I sure hope so," she said. Then she put her arms around me and drew me into the sweetest, tenderest kiss I had ever experienced.

We found our way to my dorm, where I arranged to get my roommate out of the way for an hour. We put that hour to good use with our first hot and heavy session. We nearly wore out each other's lips, and I explored her firm young breasts with my hands, and then, as we both undressed to the waist, with my mouth, as she ran her hands through my hair.

She tongued my nipples and stroked my erection through my pants, as my hand found its way up her skirt to her heated center. I stroked her through her silken panties, hearing her breath come in ever faster gasps until she shuddered and crushed herself against my hand with a muffled cry.

"Oh Tony, thank you," she sighed.

"My pleasure, babe," I replied softly. "Can that be a down payment?"

"Of course...but, what about you?"

She was still grasping the pulsing bulge in my pants.

"Don't worry, Di. I'll be okay. We don't have much time left anyway. But, maybe soon?"

"Oh yes, soon."

I had spoken my truth to her under the bell tower. She was someone I had only before met in dreams—intelligent, warm, beautiful, and affectionate—and her affection was directed at me! It was almost too good to be true. I alternated between feeling unworthy and wanting to offer my whole life to her, to do with what she would.

I think the technical term for someone in my condition then is 'hopeless'.

By our fourth date, we were ready to consummate our relationship. Dora was home for the weekend, giving us the perfect opportunity.

Neither of us was a virgin, and thank goodness that we didn't have that awkwardness to deal with. Just the pleasure of exploring each other's bodies, fully naked together for the first time. She was as glorious as I ever imagined, and her passion for me could not have been anything but genuine.

When the moment came, she firmly grasped my erection and guided it into her steamy well, like we had been making love for years already. The look of pure pleasure and lust on her face as I entered her sealed it for me; I now realize that I fully fell in love with her at that moment.

Afterward we lay together in blissful lassitude, in one of those moments that are truly remembered for a lifetime.

On Sunday afternoon, after another night together, and another morning spent effortlessly in each other's presence, wandering through a campus coming alive with signs of spring, I sat with her on a bench.

"Dianna, I know we've been together just a short time, but it feels so perfect to me. I can't imagine ever not being with you now. I love you. Let's finish our degrees first, but when we're done...will you marry me?"

"Oh, Tony," she gasped. "I—I think I must be dreaming. I mean, yes, yes I will! It's just such a surprise. Of course I'll marry you, darling. You're the only one for me."

And my hopelessness was complete.

I hadn't money for a fancy ring, and anyway, diamonds? No. I bought her an elegant, tasteful ring with a small opal—her birthstone. Only she and I knew what it meant, and that was fine with us.

I found us a little efficiency apartment a block away from campus and we moved in. There were never going to be enough opportunities for us to be together in the dorms. What an exciting time that was! We had to discipline ourselves to have quiet evenings for studying. That was part of our shared life, too, and we treasured it. Our plans were to get married after graduation, just two years away.

All that remained was to tell our parents. Both of ours were devout, but we were both thoroughly lapsed and out about it with them, so it wasn't that much of a struggle. They could hardly threaten us with damnation for "living in sin" when we believed in no such thing anyway.

After an idyllic two years, the May of our graduation year arrived and our university proclaimed us well and truly educated. Two weeks later we had our wedding in a local park with family and friends. The older part of our families were probably just relieved we were finally getting hitched and removing an embarrassing topic of discussion between them and their peers. Our officiant was a Unitarian minister whose daughter Dianna knew, a fresh embarrassing topic for some. Not that we cared. It was our life and our time.

Later that year we would move two hundred miles away, to the city that was home to the school were I had been admitted for graduate study in Anthropology. Dianna was job searching there in anticipation.

What do I remember from the next five years?

Moving into university married housing, just across a creek from the main campus. It was extremely reasonable rent and I was within easy walking distance. Dianna could use the car all she needed.

The low cost of living, with no end of events on campus we could attend. Life was a lot like what we had as undergraduates.

The intensity of my course work. It was a flood of required reading and analyzing what I had read. I would be taking qualifying exams after two years; my performance on them would determine if I could continue in the program.

Working as a teaching assistant, covering recitation sessions of undergraduate classes, grading assignments, and proctoring exams. I received a stipend for this that covered our expenses, if leaving little for extravagances.

The sunny Saturday we reclined on a blanket in the park, just enjoying being there and each other's company, indulging in a little public display of affection. At one point she sighed and said, "Thank you for bringing me here, Tony." She meant the city, our new home.

Her taking the car and driving back to see her family the next weekend. She missed them so much. It was not a problem for me: I had a lot of reading to catch up on.

Going with her to visit my family over Christmas break. They had come to love Dianna, and thought we were the greatest thing going.

Her difficulty finding a good job. I reassured her: take your time, find the best thing you can, we don't need much right now and aren't hurting.

The job she finally took, as a tech writer for a software company. At entry level, so it didn't pay hugely, but it helped a lot.

Weekend mornings spent in bed, keeping the spark alive.

The bills that started to pile up.

Studying for quals in our tiny bedroom in the evening, to have a quiet place while she did yoga to video classes in the living room.

The relief of passing quals and finding a professor with an interesting research program who had a place for me as a research assistant. I could join his group and find a dissertation topic in his area.

Choosing my topic and getting it accepted, a huge cause for celebration. We went out for Italian food with two of my classmates and one of her friends from work. They split the check.

Being away for conferences, more conferences, and finally for three months of field work gathering data for my dissertation.

Coming back from field work to find things changed. Dianna was no longer as happy.

A sunny Saturday in the park, like earlier ones but not like them. Tension in the air, irritation with small quirks that were acceptable before.

The breakdown that same night, all her turmoil coming out. You're away so much, you don't pay attention to me, where are we going after you finish, why am I even here? And finally the bombshell that meant our marriage was over in all but name, unless I could save it.

Me? It's all up to me?

Pleading with her: What do you need from me? I'll do it, I'm working on it, I need some time. All to no avail.

Changing my tune in frustration: No, I don't want to lose you, but I won't beg. You have to see things my way too. Let's work this out.

The impasse that could not be broken.

Moving with her across the courtyard into a two-bedroom apartment. Still tiny, but at least I no longer had to share a cold bed with a sudden stranger until she could afford to move out.

The day she finally moved out. I cried and looked into the bathroom mirror at my ugly, contorted face.

The feeling that everything I had been living for was collapsing in on me.

I drove toward my parents' home in my beat-up graduate student special Toyota, enjoying what I could of the bucolic scenery. I had already broken the news to them by phone. This visit was needful, but I could not look forward to it with pleasure.

I arrived at the outskirts of town and passed by the old familiar landmarks. They appeared drab and gray now, not the charming features of a small Midwestern city they had seemed on previous visits when she was with me. Maybe this was how they really looked.

I parked at the house and went in. We had never bothered to ring before, knowing we were welcome.

They were there, Mom, Dad, Emma, eighteen, and Janie, now sixteen. Matt and Scott lived on the West Coast now, too far away to visit much. I received hugs from them all in turn.

"I'm so sorry, Tony," they all said, nearly the same words.

"I don't know, Mom," I said, after we had settled into the open kitchen and dining area, always the gathering place in our home. I was seated in a chair at the family heirloom table.

"I thought everything was fine. Then I got back from my field work, and she was unhappy. I spent too much time away from her. Well, I had to. It's part of my program. I have to do research. But she felt neglected.

"I should be more outgoing, she said. I spent too much time alone, reading, writing. What did she think my grad school was going to be about? It's an enormous amount of work, much more than a full-time job. I did as much as I could with her, went out with her to a party now and then. Dinner out, movies, you know. But it wasn't enough.

"I think she's envious of my life, really. She used to love it when we were both in school. We'd be working side by side the whole evening after dinner, just taking little breaks to touch base with each other. Her job isn't that interesting, and the pay isn't that great. I mean, it's enough for us, together with my stipend. Of course we're not getting rich. So she's frustrated. Is that a good reason to want out? I don't understand. We even tried counseling, but that didn't work. I'm at a loss."

"Do you think she could get into a graduate program there, too? Seems like that's what she's missing," Mom said.

"She probably could. She graduated with high honors, she could do it. It would be a stretch, but we could survive without her salary. We've done it before, we always supported each other however we could. Part-time jobs, whatever. I asked her. She just said 'no'.

"What really hurt, Mom, was that she finally just came out and told me, 'I'm afraid I don't love you anymore'. What can I say to that?"

It was all coming back to me, the pain, the tortured nights with little sleep, the tears shed, the angry words. I hoped my voice wouldn't crack, but I was sure it would any second.

"If she needs to be free now to get where she wants to be in life, I can't stop her. I shouldn't stop her, it would just prolong the suffering for both of us."

"So, it sounds like you're going through with it?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's over now. I don't see any going back. We're doing it pro se, not getting any lawyers involved. Can't afford them anyway. We just have to make out a separation agreement and some other papers, and file them. At some point the judge will grant a legal separation, and after a year we can be final."

"I'm sorry, Tony," she said. "We always loved Dianna, and we were so happy for you being together."

That's when I cracked. Oh Jesus. Don't let me do this. Let me keep it together, please.

Mom came to the table from the kitchen area and put an arm around my shoulder. I felt Emma's presence too, as she put her arms around my neck and hugged me from behind. Still I let out three or four strangled sobs before I could get control of myself again.

"It's all right, son," said Mom. "I know, it must hurt."

"No, I'm okay, Mom," I said, catching my breath. "It does hurt, but I can handle it. Mostly. Thank you for caring."

Emma patted my shoulder. That was a comfort.

"I'll be here for the week," I said. "It's spring break. Grad students get to have a vacation sometime, too."

"You're more than welcome, Tony," said Mom. "Your room is ready for you. Just like when you left it last time."

I went upstairs to unpack. My old bed was still there, freshly made up. A fresh pang of sorrow went through me, remembering that Dianna had slept there with me when we visited together.

My study desk and listening desk were there. I had long since traded the Hallicrafters for a Grundig portable receiver that put the performance of the old vacuum-tube radio to shame. It was packed in my suitcase, which I now opened to hang up my clothes. That only took a minute. It took a minute more to get out the radio, set it on the desk and give it a quick check to make sure it had survived the trip. Maybe a little listening later tonight would take me back to happier times.

There were footsteps coming up the old stairs. A moment later Emma peeked into my open door.

"Tony?"

"Hi sis. I just was thinking I wanted to talk to you. Just to say thank you for caring, too. It really means a lot to me."

"You were always my favorite brother. I can't help but care."

"I would have thought you would be closer to Matt and Scott. They're more your age."

"Not that much," she said. "Anyway, they were always immature for their age. I wanted someone to look up to. That was you. And you were always there for me too, even after you went off to school. I remember how you came home for spring break and helped Janie and me with getting our Geocaching badges for Scouts that year."

"I remember that," I said. "Your leader wasn't too clear about how to use the GPS function on your phones, right?"

"That was it. But anyway, what I came up for was that I need some brotherly advice. I know it's a terrible time for you, and I'm sorry to lay my troubles on you now, but I'm kind of in a bad way right now. I can't talk to Mom or Dad."

Oh no, she isn't pregnant, is she? What an awful mess that would be.

It was like she had sensed my thought.

"No, it's not what you might be thinking. I'm just very confused about stuff that's been happening to me. Can we go to my room? We won't be heard as easily there."

"Sure," I said. "Hey, if you can take my mind off my own stuff for a while, it's a fair trade. Lead on."

We walked past the stairs, past childhood photos of ourselves and the others, down the hallway to the far end and Emma's room.

She shut the door and sat down on her bed. She was wearing jeans and a crop top. It wasn't one of the really short numbers, but I found the sight of her exposed skin and occasional flash of her cute navel a bit distracting. Come on dude, it's nothing you haven't seen before. She's your sister, for fuck's sake.

I took the chair in front of her vanity. "What's up, sis? Boy problems?"

"Not exactly. But I can start there. So once I turned eighteen in January, I decided that since I was finally legal, I might as well ditch the cherry. You remember Brad?"

"Dude with the neckbeard and glasses? He was the sacrifice?"

"You joke, Tony, but you're not that far wrong. Don't let me get ahead of myself. What I'm saying is, it was pretty good. I didn't...you know, but it felt good. He left me wanting more, I guess is what I'd say."

"You two were safe, I trust?"

"Oh yeah, rule number one. Safety first. You told me that, didn't you? But anyway, the next thing that happened was, he kind of lost interest in me. Was I that bad?"

"Some guys are like that, Emma. Once they've gotten you into the sack, their mission is complete. Time to move on. It's pretty disgusting behavior, but it's out there. I'm sorry, but it sounds like you've had your first taste of it. I hope it's your last. Anyway, I always thought you could do better than that guy. Anyone new in your sights?"

"Yes and no. This gets into what's really got me upside down now. I was dancing with this girl down at the all-ages club last week. I knew her slightly from school. She's in my class and is a little older than me. You know, we were dancing together because no guys were asking us, right? But then she started putting the moves on me, and Tony, I was getting turned on to her. I mean, I hardly knew what to think. I still don't.

"She asked me if I would go out to her car with her. I went, I don't really know why. I guess I told myself that maybe she just wanted to smoke a joint with me or something. But instead she drove around to the back of the parking lot where it was dark and no one was around.

"She asked me if I had ever been with a girl before. I said no. She asked me if I thought I might want to try it. I managed to get out something like 'I don't know'. She told me I was beautiful and I really turned her on. She asked me if she could kiss me."

Emma's voice was starting to shake. I needed to comfort her, let her know it was okay to tell me the whole story. I went over and sat next to her on the bed. I put my hand on her shoulder and she buried her face in my chest.

"I must have said 'yes', because she leaned over and kissed me. Tony, it felt good, it felt like it did when Brad used to kiss me. I think I must have kissed her back some. She was feeling my breasts then and it just felt better. I was getting aroused.

"Then she touched me...down there, through my pants. She hadn't asked, and then I got scared and told her to stop. But still, it felt good for the second before I realized what was happening.

"She apologized, said she had gone too far with me before I was ready. She said, 'You can come back inside or you can leave now, it's okay, but if you ever want to try some more, I'll be around'. So I left then and came home. Luckily no one saw me come in because they would have known from my face that something was up.

"Is something wrong with me, Tony?" She was near tears by now.

So I explained to her that what she was going through was nothing very unusual, that it wasn't a question of right and wrong, that I would never tell anyone unless she wanted me to, and that she had my love and support no matter which direction her life took her.

Then, as I was leaving her, she kissed me in a quite unsisterly fashion, and I suddenly realized that I had my own dilemma to work out. Because I had liked it. Very much.

Back in my room, I had time to kill and not that much to do with it except think. I supposed I would need to work through this sometime. The question at hand was whether there was something wrong with me. Was I really becoming attracted to my sister?

Had it had been just a momentary thing, the kind of mental glitch that everyone experiences from time to time? If Emma had not had her faux pas with me, it would not have happened at all. The problem with this hypothesis was, why had I been bothered by the way she was dressed? I had plenty of female cousins who often dressed at least as provocatively, and they had never 'bothered' me in that way.

My second thought was that it was my general depressed mental state that was playing with my emotions and crossing wires in my libido. I knew I had become rather sentimental since Dianna left, able to be moved to tears by sad movies that I could sit through stone-faced before.

This one was harder to dismiss. I would have to go with it for now, since the third alternative—that my attraction to my younger sister was genuine—was not one I was willing to face.

Having reached this rationalization, I was content to relax and try to clear my mind of negative thoughts. I continued to relax until I dozed off, and slept until Mom called us down for dinner.

It was a more elaborate affair than I was used to at home, a real family dinner, no doubt in honor of my presence. Dear Mom, still taking care of her family after all these years, working over a hot stove in her sweater and slacks, a lighter streak of gray now showing in her golden hair. I made a note to get Emma and Janie to help me put together a dinner for Mom and Dad at least once this week.

Dad was there, jovial on the outside as always, with a hint of something more serious deeper down that he never spoke of. A little more gray, a few lines on his face, a few extra pounds added as often happens after a certain age.

Janie came to the table wearing a t-shirt of some boy band. Her dark hair was longer than last time I had seen her, and she was wearing glasses now. I asked her about them. They were just for a minor correction, she told me, and anyway some boys liked them.

Emma was the last to appear, wearing the same jeans and crop top, and suddenly my rationalizations were right out the window. She was adorable from head to foot, from blonde curls to painted toes, in just the same way I would find any young woman on the street who looked as good. I found myself longing for her body naked against mine, those young, tender breasts that filled out her top so well pressing against my chest.

Well, this is a fine fix you've gotten yourself into, you perv. And you're almost ten years older than she is too—a dirty old man as well.

I swore to myself in that moment that this was as far as it went. If somehow it was my misfortune to feel this way, it would have to be my deepest secret. No one could ever know—not her, not our parents, no one. Just as I would keep the secrets of hers she had told me that afternoon.

We had vegetable soup as a starter. It was from a can, but that didn't matter. It brought back memories of that very same soup on chilly fall days in childhood. It was perfect.

Mom was saying, "Tony, do you think you can help Emma with the garden while you're here? We made it bigger last year, and it's going to be harder to get it all tilled and ready to plant."

"Sure, Mom," I said. "Emma, you want to work on it tomorrow? It's supposed to be nice out. You're off from school this week, right?"

"Yes, school's out this week," she replied. "Be good to get outside and do something. It was a long winter here."

The garden had been Emma's project, inspired by one of her Scout activities. Mom and Dad would help with it, but she kept them away for the most part: they worked enough as it was, and the supply of fresh vegetables her plot provided all summer was her contribution to the family.

A little hard work would be a good distraction from my various troubles.

After dinner we played board games. Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit, both staples of years gone by. Old rivalries were rekindled; Emma and Janie went after each other pretty hard, with lots of teasing and inside jokes. Janie won at Monopoly; we all teased her, telling her she would grow up to be a tycoon and rob the rest of the country blind. No one, however, could beat me at Trivial Pursuit. I told them it was natural; the name of the game was itself a synonym for a college education. This got the biggest laugh of the evening.

When the games were exhausted, it was almost ten. I excused myself and went up to my room. I connected up the old antenna that ran out to the maple tree and switched on the Grundig to see what might be out there tonight.

I remembered listening years ago when the shortwave bands had more stations that told a story about their countries, with their local news, music, and culture. There was propaganda, for sure, but there were also voices with a sincere positive message, showing the best of what each country had to offer. Now those voices were fewer, as country after country cut back or shut down its national external broadcast service. With the Internet, who needs it? was the rationale. But that left the bands open for ever more political and religious propaganda. In the latter category, one ranting nutcase in particular seemed to be on the air every hour of the day and night, on some frequency in every band, and sometimes more than one. The last time I had listened he had been raving about "blood moons", and their supposed prophetic meaning. It sounded like something out of the middle ages. Dude, we call those "eclipses" these days, and they are quite well understood.

I tuned across the bands, as always hoping to hear something different—new or distant or interesting. It was still possible, sometimes. It was why I was still listening. Finally I found Radio Romania International, broadcasting a folk music program. A good soundtrack for putting the world on hold for an hour.

Around eleven-thirty I shut off the radio and thought about going to bed. I hit the bathroom, came back and started to undress.

There was a knock on my door. "Tony?" It was Emma.

"Just a minute." I put my shirt back on and opened the door.

She was in a short white satin nightgown that seemed to have nothing underneath it but her. The sight of her almost made me gasp, she was such a vision of sexiness. Her breasts moved beneath the gown like ghostly shapes, made visible by the way the fabric flowed over them. It flowed in the same way over the curve of her hips. I was struck silent for a panicked second.

"Hi, sis," I finally got out.

"Hi," she said. "I just wanted to say thanks again for the talk this afternoon. I feel much better now. I guess whatever happens is going to happen, and I'll make the best of it. So you made a difference. Oh, and I'm going to be more careful whose car I get into. That part was foolish, I know. Anyway. Can I give you a hug?"

"Sure," I said, and held out my arms, half excited and half full of dread.

She flowed into my arms and pressed herself against me as her arms circled my neck. I prayed—to whatever I still prayed to in moments like this—that the swelling in my groin would not be noticed. I felt the desire for her go through me like an injection into a vein as I held her.

"You're the best, Tony," she said, letting her hands slip down to my shoulders as she leaned back. "Oh, no tongue tonight, okay?" She got up on tiptoes and gave me one of her quick kisses. She giggled and slipped out of my embrace.

"'Night, Tony," she said, grinning.

"'Night, Emma. Pleasant dreams."

It took a long time to get to sleep.

It was the kind of spring day that started off cool but promised to be sticky by noon. Emma's garden plot was now twenty feet by fifteen, and would need to be tilled and mulched. It was still several weeks until planting was safe from frost, but getting it done early made planning and planting much more pleasant. And I was there to help now, so it would be done now.

Emma and I spent an hour clearing off and hauling away all the sticks, twigs, and leaves that had accumulated over the fall and winter. We both wore cutoff jeans, but while I had a t-shirt Emma wore a tank top, and not a very loose one. Just another part of my punishment. Go ahead world, rub my nose in it. Her bare legs, smooth and shapely but strong, were another nail in my coffin.

"What's going to happen with this next year?" I asked her. "You're not going to want to be here over spring break, are you? Or at least not be obligated to be here?"

"I don't know. I hope maybe Janie can take it over if I'm not here."

"I don't know if I can be here either. Who knows what's going to happen a year from now. Dad can't handle tilling this big a plot. I don't want him to try, anyway."

"I guess if nothing else works out we'll hire it done."

At this point it was time to get the rototiller from the garden shed. I filled the gas tank from the can and checked the oil level. Dad had been able to till up the plot when it was maybe two-thirds this size. But that was just about his comfortable limit, and I was not going to see him taxed any more than that. I could handle it, at least this year.

It was fifteen minutes of fairly unpleasant work, but when it was done, it was done for the year.

Now for the mulch. Emma always got it from the recycling center, which had an enormous pile of wood chips, free for the taking. She had already borrowed the neighbors' pickup truck. It would take about three loads to cover the garden.

We agreed I should drive. We got into the cab and I started out. This would be a good chance to try to figure out what was going on with her.

"So, Emma," I began, "Since we're alone here, would you mind if I asked you a question or two about what we talked about before? Just so I have a better picture in case you need help?"

"No, that's fine," she said. "You already know the big stuff, no point in holding back now."

"Okay, that girl, the one you got turned on by, was she the only one? Do you usually look at women and say, 'I like that one'?"

"No, she was the only one so far, but it was pretty strong. I mean, she was hot looking, dressed really sexy, and she was flirting with me out in the open. It just did a number on me. I guess it made me think for the first time about...you know, being with a woman."

"But that doesn't happen often now, or at all?"

"No, it doesn't. I just need the right combination, I guess. It's like with guys. I still like them, you know. But I don't want to climb into the pants of every one I see. It has to be the right person."

"Not like me, then," I said. "I don't know if I'm representative of all men, but I can imagine doing it with just about any woman I see, if she's at all attractive. It could get me in all sorts of trouble if I didn't just ignore it most of the time."

"Any woman? What about age? How young do you go?" She was asking the questions now.

"Well, this is where the trouble comes in. Too young is too young, but my eyes can't tell who is definitely over eighteen and who is just under. So the ones in the gray area and below have to be ignored extra hard."

"But you do like them younger than you?"

"Hey sis, you're talking like I'm an old man or something. If I'm not going to be married anymore, I'm going to have to play the field. Now, I do prefer an emotionally mature person, but that's a separate thing from age."

"Yeah, I hear you there. You know, I thought you and Dianna looked good together, but after what you told us yesterday, I think she didn't deserve you. Not being able to wait three months for you? Come on."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

"Hey, you're my brother. I'm on your side."

We had arrived at the recycling center. I backed up to the wood pile and parked. We got out, I dropped the tailgate and we grabbed the shovels from the bed.

The next two hours were spent in hard work, as we shoveled hundreds of pounds of wood chips into the truck bed, drove home, shoveled them out onto the topsoil of the garden, then drove back to the recycling center for the next load. Emma held her end up, moving as much weight as I was and getting just as sweaty. I paced our work to try not to get exhausted, but we were still too tired after the first load for much more conversation. But I was not too tired to notice how her top plastered itself to her lithe young body when it got wet with sweat, or the trickle that ran down her neck into her cleavage.

After we had unloaded the last truckload of chips, we broke for lunch. Emma made us sandwiches and we sat at the dining room table.

"All we need to do now is spread out the mulch evenly. Not that hard," she said.

"We'll take it easy. Plenty of time now."

"We're a good team. No way I could have done this without you."

"Sure you could. It just would have taken you twice as long."

Another hour later we were done. I told her to take the first turn in the shower, went to my room and closed the door to strip out of my sweaty clothes. I stood there and let the air dry me off and cool me down while listening to the water run in the bathroom next door.

When the water stopped, I put on my robe and waited. Before long she knocked at the door and called, "It's all yours!"

"Thanks," I called back. I stepped out of the room and started to turn to enter the bathroom, but before I got fully around my eyes caught the motion of her walking back to her room. I turned my head back and saw her there, covered only by a poorly-draped towel. The backs of her smooth thighs were fully revealed, all the way up to the lower curve of her butt cheeks. I knew I should look away, but I found it impossible not to stare longingly at those captivating legs.

Then she dropped something on the floor, and bent over to pick it up. Oh my god. The holy of holies was opened up to me. Her tidy little just-legal pussy, plump lips cleared of hair and pouting at me. The neat tuft of fur below on her mound. I was instantly erect.

Quick, don't let her see you looking! I turned back toward the bathroom and went inside just as she closed the door to her bedroom.

I quickly hung up the robe and got into the shower. I looked down at my cock, still fully hard. I had been taught at an early age that lusting after a woman was as bad for my soul as actually having intercourse with her—if not in so many words. So if I were to grab my hard cock and start pumping now, while thinking of her, would that be the moral equivalent of fucking my sister?

Then I stopped myself from this line of thought. I didn't believe any of that nonsense any more, I told myself. Still, it had a certain logic to it. I did not touch myself, but instead turned on the water. My cock started to deflate, slowly.

Then there was a quick knock on the bathroom door.

"Sorry, gotta pee," called Emma.

"Why didn't you go before?"

"I forgot."

"Can't you go downstairs?"

"I'm not dressed. Anyway, I can't see anything, and neither can you."

That was true, but only to a point. The shower door was rain glass, so it was hard to make out any details, but I could tell that she had discarded her towel altogether to sit on the toilet. I got a distorted image of her nude body. I even made out a nipple through one relatively flat area of glass. Who knows what she could see of me.

"Make it quick, then. I'm not staying in here all day."

"Promises, promises."

She was actually teasing me. Flirting with me. A lot of the past day with her started to make sense.

I presumed she peed; I couldn't hear it over the shower noise. I heard the flush, and the shower suddenly went hot as the fill line depleted the cold water pressure. These old houses with their antiquated plumbing.

"Okay, I'm gone."

She picked up her towel, wrapped it around herself, and moved to the door.

"Don't forget to write," I called after her, as the door opened.

I finished, got out and started to towel off. I was going to have to confront her soon, because this had to stop.

Today was Friday. Janie would be going to Scout camp for the weekend. Mom and Dad were going on a date night tonight. Still a loving couple after all these years, bless them. Mom had told me not to expect them until late. I would be able to speak with Emma with total frankness with no chance of being overheard.

I made a light supper for Janie, Emma, and I while our parents prepared to go out.

Janie asked, "What are you guys going to do tonight with the house to yourselves?"

Emma answered. "I'm looking forward to a nice quiet evening, maybe read some or watch some TV."

I nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I have a radio I can tune around."

Soon enough all three had departed and Emma and I were alone.

I waited for a good time to raise the subject. At around eight-thirty Emma was sprawled out across the living room sofa with a book, in a pair of shorts that made her legs go on for miles. It had to be now.

"Emma, can we talk for a bit? I have a question or two for you."

"Sure bro, what do you want to know?" She marked her place and set the book aside.

"Okay, this might be a surprise and sound weird to you, but maybe not, and I need to know. Have you been flirting with me since I've been home?"

"Mmmm, maybe. Tell me what I did that you noticed."

"Well, if you're going to be coy, okay. First you started to kiss me like a boyfriend instead of a brother, yesterday. Then you came to say good night in your nightie, which is very sexy, as I'm sure you know. Then today, you were very interested in whether I liked younger women. Then you flashed me in the hall after your shower. Finally there was the bit with you wanting in the bathroom when I was in the shower. So, sis, what gives?"

"Tony, you know all those things could be totally innocent. Like, yeah, I had an accident with my towel on the way to my room. But it made an impression on you, didn't it? Did it get you all hot and bothered? I think that means my flirting, if that's what it was, paid off. Did it?"

"Okay, you've got me there," I admitted. "I got turned on to you. But Emma, it's not right."

"Who said so? And why should you care? I know the practical reason, but I'm not having any babies with anyone any time soon. I've got these pills that make my periods nice and regular. And you're the one who was always so unconventional and all. You got married outside the Church. That had the folks going in circles for a while, let me tell you."

"They got over it."

"Of course they did. I'm just saying there's no good reason why you should feel bad if you're turned on by me."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Who are you and what have you done with Emma? You know, the one who was so upset just yesterday that she got turned on by another girl?"

She shrugged. "Well, you're very persuasive, my brother. Anyway, we're talking about you and me, who've known each other my whole life, not some girl who I barely knew at all."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Tony, I admit that I've been trying to get you to notice me. You don't know how happy I am that it worked"

My mind was reeling. This couldn't really be happening, could it? Was I imagining her saying those words?

"Look, sis, are you telling me you want me that way?"

She sat up and patted the sofa cushion next to her. I sat down, with some apprehension. Then she replied slowly, keeping her blue eyes on mine.

"Tony, you are the only person who does it for me now. I felt it when you came in the door yesterday. Maybe I've known it for a long time. And you feel it for me too. We have a chance tonight. Why don't we take it? No one will ever know. I think you were telling me something about secrets yesterday."

"We couldn't hide such a thing forever, if it happened."

I was trying to talk her out of this, but it sounded half-hearted even to myself.

"Couldn't we? Tony, I need you. Brad just wanted to get into my pants, I guess. Probably so did what's-her-name. But I know you love me and you wouldn't let me down. I need you to give me what Brad couldn't. I feel like I'm still a virgin. Please, Tony..."

She had put her arm around my shoulders and pulled herself closer to me. Her soft breast was pressed into my side and her lips were next to my ear. She lowered her voice almost to a whisper.

"Please, Tony, love me. Make love to me. I want to feel like a real woman. I've waited so long."

My heart jumped in my chest. Blood was rushing to my sex. Still, I answered slowly, carefully.

"Emma, I love you. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what could happen. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong. Any of them would be terrible for us, maybe the family too—"

"I'm not saying I'm not afraid, too," she said. "But when you want something, need something as much as I do you, it's not so important. I promise you, whatever happens, I will still be your loving sister. You can't lose me. Please, just let me..."

With that she pulled my face to hers and kissed me again, the way she had the day before. Her lips were warm against mine, her breath sweet as they parted and her tongue found mine. This time I returned her passion, driven by the desire that she drew from me.

When we separated, she said softly, "Will you come with me up to my room?"

"Yes," I said.

I followed her up the stairs, watching her hips sway with each step. My heart was pounding now.

We came to her room, stepped inside and closed the door. Instantly I was in her arms, her mouth insistent against mine. I grabbed her waist and pulled her to me. Her breasts were crushed against my chest. I returned her kiss with a heat that I had barely known I had.

When I put my hands to her face and pulled her away, she put out her tongue and licked her lips suggestively. I held her face there and looked directly into her wide-open eyes.

"All right, little sister, you asked for this," I said. "You wanted it. I'm here to give you everything you want and then some. I don't believe in doing things by halves. Now why don't you show me those pretty titties you've been flaunting at me since I got here."

"You'll have to undress me first," she retorted. "That's one of the things I want. Show me how a man does it."

"You've got it."

I let go of her face and went for the top button of her shirt. It came open easily, revealing more creamy skin. The second button parted to show me the tops of her breasts and the crevasse where they were pushed together by her bra.

The third button presented me with the bra itself, a flimsy-looking lace-trimmed number in blue. She had dressed for this occasion, it seemed. I slipped my thumb under its top edge, feeling the soft and springy give of her breast.

"Keep going," she said.

I went faster now. By the sixth button, the shirt was all but undone and I was enjoying the view of her flat, taut midriff. And down there, under the very last button, was her navel, a delightful little button itself.

The shirt was loose now, and I pushed it back off her shoulders and down her arms. She straightened her arms behind her to let it fall.

"Now unhook my bra, big brother," she said, "You do know how to do that, don't you?"

I had my arms around her back and the bra popped before she finished the last sentence. She now held her arms forward and straight, and I pulled the straps down them, finally freeing her breasts. They bounced a bit as their support was removed.

"Well, are they as pretty as you thought?" she asked.

"Much prettier. Maybe the nicest I've seen."

They weren't huge, but more than a handful each. Her areolae were brownish-pink, at least two inches across. Her brown nipples were also large and long. I cupped one boob in each hand, feeling their heft and bounce. I ran my thumbs over her nipples.

"Go ahead, suck them," she said. "Suck my titties, big brother."

I sucked them all right. I sat her down on the bed and knelt in front of her. The height was perfect, and I took one, then the other hard nipple between my lips and pulled, licked, and nibbled at it. She had her head back and was making soft sounds, punctuated now and then by a sharp 'Ohh!' when I hit her sensitive spots just right.

At the same time I was sliding my hand up her thigh, under the leg of her shorts. Her inner thighs were as soft as baby's skin. When I reached the crotch of her panties, I found them already damp. I slid one finger across the moist fabric at just the right place. She sucked in her breath sharply.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "You're so good. I knew it."

Then she was grabbing at the hem of my t-shirt, wanting to pull it over my head. I freed my hand from her shorts and held both arms up. I took my mouth away from her breasts only long enough for the shirt to come off. She tossed it aside.

I brought the hand that had been in her pants to her breast, cradling it while I sucked the hard nipple. I detected the faint hint of her arousal coming off the finger that had stroked her through her panties. I hadn't thought my cock could get any harder, but there it was.

I pushed her back on the bed, her amazing breasts bouncing on her chest, unzipped her shorts and quickly pulled them off. Her panties were a match for the bra: thin, blue, and lacy. The crotch had a noticeable wet spot, which I pressed the tips of two fingers against and traced upward along her hidden slit. She moaned, and the lips became more visible as the wet spot spread and the thin sodden fabric clung to the folds of her pussy.

I kept rubbing her through her panties, watching her thrash her head back and forth and moan and sigh. She was making the most incredible sounds, but I was waiting for only one from her. And soon enough, it happened.

"Oh god...take them off. Please, take them off!"

I peeled them off her and slid them down her thighs. Her pussy, glimpsed before in the hall, was simply beautiful. Her puffy lips were shaved bare, leaving a neatly trimmed patch on her mound. Her pink inner lips were wet with her arousal, and her clit was visible at their top, peeking out of a prominent hood.

"God, Emma, your pussy is gorgeous," I told her. Did I ever dream before that I would be saying this to my little sister, who had grown up to be a temptress? It was crazy.

"What are you going to do with it, big brother?" she said, teasing me again.

"I'd like to suck it, to start with."

"Oh, yeah! No one has done that before. You can be the first."

"Great. Are you ready?"

"Yes! Come on, eat my pussy!"

Her aroused aroma filled my head as I approached her wet furrow. My tongue touched down on her and I began by licking circles around her opening, across and along her engorged lips. Her breathing became faster and more ragged. I took one pink petal between my lips and ran up and down its length, pulling out and stretching it at the bottom. Her hips were starting to buck.

Her taste was something from a forbidden garden, like ripe fruit laced with a musky hallucinogen. I moved over and sucked the other wet, puffy lip into my mouth. She was trembling now, almost ready.

"Oh god, what you're doing, I'm so close, lick me now baby, please!"

I licked her from bottom to top, rimming her dripping opening and running my tongue up and over her wet, swollen clit. Over and over, up and down, a proper tongue lashing for her naughty pussy that had teased me so.

"Oh my god, I'm gonna come, coming now!"

Her hips convulsed and she let out a little scream as she climaxed. She was suddenly the active partner, wildly fucking my tongue with her slit as she bucked against me. She continued for what must have been half a minute, ending in a second orgasm that make her stop and rest.

She lay there, panting and moaning, until she could speak again.

"Oh god Tony, you made me come. You are the first one to make me come. It was the best one ever. So good!"

"It was my pleasure, baby girl."

I climbed up on the bed next to her and kissed her. My mouth was coated with her nectar, and she kissed me back avidly, licking my lips and sucking my tongue.

"Mmm, I can taste me on you. Tastes good. If this is what a woman tastes like, I might have to try it sometime."

"That's okay sis. I'm not trying to convert you to all-hetero. Don't think it's possible anyway."

"Speaking of hetero, let's get your pants off now. I want to see your cock."

"I thought you'd never ask."

I turned over and unbuttoned my shorts. She got up on her knees, pulled down the zipper and got them down my legs. My boxers bulged out over my rigid pole.

"Ooh, nice," she said. She grabbed the bulge and started pumping it. The boxers were microfiber and felt smooth and silky sliding over my erection. It felt great. A little too great.

"Baby, I could come like this. Have mercy, little one. I have to last longer."

"Okay," she agreed. She pulled the waistband up and over my cock, then down my legs to join my shorts on the floor.

"Wow, this is big. Really big. Is this thing gonna fit in me? You're way bigger than Brad."

Yeah, I felt sorry for Brad. A little. I'm not that much above average.

"Oh, it'll fit, don't worry." She was now stroking it slowly, obviously enjoying the sight of it.

"Such a nice looking tool you have. Now I know why you're my big brother."

I groaned.

I'd like to suck it," she said, "but I'm not sure it will fit in my mouth, either."

"I'd really love for you to try, sis. Anything you can get in, I'll appreciate."

"Hmm, let's see." She brought her head down and took the spongy, sensitive crown between her lips. The sensation rocketed straight to my brain.

"God, Emma, that's great. You're doing fine, keep going."

The feeling of my cock sliding little by little into my sexy, naked sister's wet, warm mouth was matched by the sight of her stretching her lips around its girth to take it in. It was so amazing, I seriously thought I might have to make her stop before I came right there and then. But I hung on, loving every second.

"Baby, you can't imagine how good this feels, what you're doing to me. You are going to be a great cock-sucker. Do it, sweet girl. Suck my cock!"

She had started to slide me in and out when I was about halfway into her mouth. Meanwhile her cute little ass was in the air off to my side, swaying back and forth to her mouth work. I got my hand under there and found her sopping slit. Seconds later I had a finger inside her, moving in and out in time with her moves on my cock. She was making muffled sounds that added to the sensations her lips and tongue were giving me. She squeezed my finger tightly, and I did wonder how I was going to get my cock in there.

Then she took me too deeply for her on one stroke, and gagged. She spit out my cock, dripping with her saliva, and coughed, squeezing my buried finger even tighter. We both dissolved in laughter.

"That's okay, sis," I said as we recovered. "You did great for a first-timer. That was your first blowjob, am I right?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"It will get easier. Now, what did you really bring me here for?"

"I want you, Tony."

"You want me how? What do you want from me?"

I let my finger slide out of her. I brought it to my lips and sucked on it lasciviously, loving the taste of her.

"I want you...your cock..."

"Where do you want my cock? What do you want me to do?"

Narrow it down, and eventually you'll get an answer.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Good. Now, how do you want me to fuck you?"

"Would you let me be on top of you?"

"Let you? I'd love to have you on top of me. Come on, baby, saddle up!"

I lay back on her bed and grasped my erect cock at the base, holding it in place for her. She straddled me, and squatting, brought her wet pussy in contact with me. Swiping back and forth, I found the place and pushed up into her moist heat. She was tight, so tight, as I had anticipated. She pushed down, and the head entered her, popping inside to be squeezed and welcomed.

"Oh, it's so big! I don't know..."

"Go slow, you're in control. Stop if it hurts."

She slowly lowered herself onto my cock, maybe a quarter-inch at a time, letting her vagina stretch open bit by bit to take me in. She was so tight, but her slick juice was flowing to ease the way. It took all the control I had not to blow right there, with the sensation and sight of my cock being slowly swallowed by my sister's tight, hot pussy.

At last, she touched down on my mat of hair, my cock completely inside her, in the hot embrace of her sex.

"You took it all, Emma. I'm in you."

"Oh yesss, it's so good!"

I fondled her breasts, palming the hard nipples, then pulling at them with thumb and finger. I ran a hand down her flat belly, as if I could feel a bulge from my embedded cock.

She bent forward and kissed me tenderly.

"I love you so much, Tony. Now, fuck me. But go slow, please."

My hands were now on her hips. I raised her slowly, letting my shaft slip halfway out of her, then pushed it all the way back in.

"Oh yes," she sighed.

"Yes," I echoed.

I carried on slowly pumping into her, and her sighs turned to moans as she encouraged me to go faster. Soon she was thrusting down at me to meet my strokes, her pussy thumping against my mound when we met. Her face was a mask of lust, her mouth open and eyes wild.

"I feel like I'm gonna come again! Please don't stop! Faster!"

"Yes, come for me baby! Come on my cock. Fuck me Emma!"

"Uhh, uhhhh, uhhhhh—"

Her sounds were climbing up the scale as our bodies crashed together with increasing force.

"Yes, coming, uhhhh, uhhhhhh, aaaaaaaahhh!

Her body froze at the high note of climax. Her mouth was wide and she stared into space. I gave her two more hard thrusts to make sure she got to the top. Her walls were pulsing, caressing my shaft.

Then she collapsed onto my chest, breathing hard. I stroked her hair with one hand while the other arm held her close to me.

"Ohhh, so good, so good Tony," she breathed.

"Yes, so good, sweet baby girl," I murmured in her ear.

I was on fire though, and needed to come, badly. I quickly rolled us over so I was on top. I got up on my knees and pulled her hips into position, then slid my throbbing cock all the way back into her slick, hot tunnel.

"Yes, baby," she cried. "Fuck me, come in me, do it!"

I fucked her hard then, feeling the come rise inside me. In a matter of seconds the fire overtook me and I gave her my own howl of pleasure as I loosed the flood of semen deep inside her. Each spurt was an excruciating spasm that jolted me completely out of myself. I thought it would go on forever, the overwhelming sensations of filling my sister with my seed.

Finally, though, it trailed off and it was my turn to collapse onto her.

She held me there against her, until I had recovered my breath.

"Oh baby, that was so wild," I finally managed. "I came so hard. You did that to me. You are wonderful. I love you. How do you feel about that?"

"So happy, Tony. This was better than I ever imagined. You are awesome."

I turned off her onto my side and my softening dick slipped out of her. We cuddled together then, naked and unashamed. I stroked her hair and face tenderly.

There was a sound downstairs. The front door was opening. We looked at each other, eyes wide. It was the moment when the car careens around the corner and heads right for you as you cross the street.

"They're home," she whispered, with more than a hint of panic. "They're early, it can't be later than ten. What do we do, Tony?"

I was fighting down panic myself. But the back room in my mind was generating the plan we had to follow. I told it to her as fast as it was shown to me.

"We have to get dressed, quickly. And you can't stay in here, the room smells of sex. Emma, listen and do what I say, please. Grab your clothes and fresh underwear, go in the bathroom, clean up the best you can and dress. Then come visit me in my room. I'll be dressed too and it'll look innocent in case they come up to see us."

"Okay."

I rolled off the bed, careful not to make too much noise, picked up my shorts, boxers and t-shirt, and peeked through the keyhole. The hallway was clear. No one on the stairs.

"Follow me now," I whispered urgently.

I turned the knob, swung the door open without noise, and quickly but quietly padded down the hall, naked, to my room. The door was open, and I watched in the doorway, waiting for her to follow.

Long seconds went by. Hurry! I thought at her, my nerves screaming their signal of fear.

Then she was closing her door and coming down the hall, also naked and carrying her clothes. She slipped into the bathroom, closing the door softly. Then I closed my door too.

I breathed deeply, trying to calm my nerves. We were almost safe. I found a tissue and wiped away the fragrant wetness of our coupling, wadded up the tissue and stuffed it into a pocket of my suitcase. I got another and wiped my hands. Best I could do. I dressed quickly, already mourning our too-short time together.

We needed a pretext for her visiting my room. I looked around the room and thought for a few seconds. Then my eyes landed on it. The radio. Of course! A return to the innocent past. It was perfect.

I switched on the Grundig. It came alive with music from Radio Romania International, the last station I had it tuned to. Good.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom and water ran in the sink. Half a minute later, Emma knocked on my door.

"Tony, are you decent?"

"No, but I'm dressed. Come on in." I opened the door to her.

She was back in her shorts and shirt. She came inside and closed the door behind her.

"Coast is clear for the moment," she said. "That gives me time to thank you."

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me deeply. I returned it with all the passion and tenderness I felt for her.

She let go of me and said, "I opened a window in my room before I left. That should take care of the smell, as much as I loved how it got there."

"Smart move, sis. Now we have to open the door again, and you come sit with me and we will listen to the radio together."

"Just like we used to do when I was small. I remember that."

We listened to the music and the commentary, trying hard not to touch each other. It was about three minutes later that Mom came up the stairs to find us.

"Hi, you two," she said. "Listening to the short wave again, huh? I remember Emma used to love listening to that with you, Tony. What was she, seven or eight? It was so cute.

"Anyway, we both hated the movie we went to after dinner, so we walked out and decided to come home and just watch TV. Maybe we'll go to bed early tonight."

"Okay, Mom," I said. "Sorry your evening didn't work out like you planned."

"Oh well. Sometimes things work out, just not the way you planned them. I'll say goodnight now and go keep your Dad company again."

"Have a good night, Mom," said Emma.

"Good night, Mom," I chimed in.

"Good night. Sleep well, both of you."

We stayed silent while Mom went back down the stairs and for a minute afterward.

"I was afraid something like this would happen," I said finally.

"What, that we would do it?"

"No, that we would almost get caught doing it. Can you imagine what a disaster that would have been?"

"I know. But at the time I didn't care. Not so much, anyway."

"I guess I didn't either. That's the danger...you get carried away and then, boom!"

"I'll say," she grinned. "I sure went boom!"

"You know what I mean. Emma, dear one, I'm afraid we're not going to have another chance. I'm only here for a few more days, and the odds of getting an opportunity even as dangerous as this one are pretty long. I'm going back to school and so are you. Then you're going to college in the fall. It's just not going to work."

"I think I knew that too," she said. "But I still didn't care. I needed to have you, if only for now."

"I needed to have you too. I just wouldn't admit it to myself."

She brushed her hand over the side of my face.

"I guess I'm a nasty old cynic now that Dianna's gone," I went on, "But I feel like love is an illusion. I mean, it's real too, but it's still an illusion. It's real because you can feel it, but the illusion is that it can last, and be the same forever."

"What about Mom and Dad?" she asked. "Almost thirty years for them."

"There's always an exception. And you know we're lucky to have them."

"I know," she agreed. "And you may be right, but even if it can't be like that for us again, I'll always love you, even more than before."

"And I'll always love you too. You're my baby sister. I held you in my arms when you were two days old."

"Would you hold me again, Tony? Just for a minute?"

"Sure."

I put my arms around her and she hugged me close, sitting side by side with me.

"If Mom comes back up now, we're just having a nice brother and sister moment," she said.

"Of course."

When the moment was over she wiped her eyes. I needed to do the same.

"Well, I'll say good night, now," she said. "It's been quite a day."

"You're tellin' me."

She laughed.

"Okay. Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Emma. Sweet dreams."

"I'm sure they will be. Oh, wait."

She leaned over and pecked me on the lips.

"Now it's good night."

Emma and I did not have another chance to be together, as I had predicted. Even if we had, I think it would have been anticlimactic. Nothing I could imagine matched the feeling of that first and only time.

We had more family time together, the five of us, and I did enlist Emma and Janie to work with me and cook a nice dinner for Mom and Dad. They were so appreciative; it was another thing that soothed my battered heart. The little things that mean a lot.

Then it was time for me to leave. I promised to be back for Emma's graduation, only a few weeks away now. Among the hugs I got from everyone, Emma's was a little longer, a little tighter. She kissed me on the cheek, and when she released me, there was a look in her eyes that I understood. I sent it back to her. Take care little sister, until we meet again. I love you.

I arrived back at my apartment to find a message from Dianna on the house phone. I was relieved that she had not tried to call me on my cell while I was visiting.

I called her back.

"Hi, Tony. How was your visit? How is everyone? Good. I just wanted to ask you if I could come over. Just to talk. Would tonight be a good time? Okay, I'll be there at eight. Bye."

She was there right at eight, beautiful as ever, even just in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Hello, Dianna. Nice to see you again," I said. "Have a seat, won't you? Coffee? Pop? Anything?"

"No, nothing, please. Just sit with me for a few minutes, Tony. I have something I need to say."

next to her on the old, dirty futon we had brought with us from our apartment at State.

"Okay, go ahead. I'm listening."

"Tony, I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake with you. I was unhappy before, but I think now that I blamed it all on you, and that wasn't fair to you at all. I wish I had given us more of a chance. I think we could have worked through things and come out stronger. Do you think there's any way we can go back and try to make it right again, maybe try counseling again? Can we save our marriage after all?"

My mind quickly flashed back to our early days together, all the joy and excitement. That first Sunday together, wandering through the greening campus, our hunger for each other sated for the moment. Our shared life of study and passionate lovemaking as a new couple. That first Saturday in the park here, embarking with hope on a new life. If I said "yes", could it bring all that back? Or even a faded photograph of it with our older and wiser selves somehow superimposed?

God, or the Universe, or Nothing, was not going to make things easy for me. She was sincere; her voice was strained and her eyes were wet. But, damn it all, I had to speak my truth to her straight.

"Dianna, I'm sorry, but you can't seriously expect me to go back now, after all the hell you've put me through. It's been a year and a half of my heart breaking every day, wondering if it was really something I did, if there was something I could have done differently, or if I was just a damaged person and not worthy of anyone's love. Sometimes I could barely do my work. I was just going through the motions behind this dull haze of pain. When you finally left, it hurt bad, but it was a relief too. Like we could at least put it behind us and get on with our lives."

Her tears were flowing now.

"I know," she said, "and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tony. I thought this was worth a try, though."

"I appreciate that you cared enough to try. But it's really too late now. I can't go back, I have to go forward. Di, in some way I'm just starting to figure out, I'll always love you. Maybe someday, after all the wounds are healed, we can sit together like this and laugh about the good times and celebrate what we had. I would like that, but it's going to take some time first."

"That's fair. I would like that too. And I'll always love you, too, even if we can't have it like it was anymore. So, do we go ahead and file the papers and let the healing begin?"

"I think that's the best thing, yes. And I'm sorry too."

"Okay. Well, I'll say good night and let you finish unpacking and get your rest."

We went to the door, hugged each other for an aching moment, said "good night" and she was gone.

I poured myself a drink, put a CD into the player, turned the volume up, and sat down again. The brooding opening strains of Dvorak's Symphony No. 9, "From The New World", filled the tiny apartment. A turbulent crescendo was coming, followed by some more hopeful melodies. Then, the Largo movement would offer up a place of serenity. Tomorrow was a work day, with papers to be reviewed, a seminar to attend, and a dissertation to compose, but I was already unpacked and it was early yet. The world would wait, where nothing seemed permanent, all was in flux, and where that was the price paid for the possibility of surprise.