New Story Title: SIBLINGS WITH BENEFITS(incest/erotica)
Megan’s brother knows just what his big sister needs.
. Enjoy…
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As I sat in the lobby of TF Green airport, sipping coffee I tried to keep myself from sinking into the depression that I had been mired in for the last couple of weeks. I was back home in Rhode Island where I had spent 33 of my 39 years/ and my younger brother Mark whom I hadn’t seen in six months was on his way to pick me up. Problem was it was hard to be upbeat when you were as utterly exhausted as I was. The cause of this wasn’t just my two hour nonstop from Chicago turning into an hour delay at O’hare and a three hour layover in Philly but due mostly to the latest bout of insomnia I’d been suffering from for the last two weeks.
Usually these spells which I’ve suffered from since the tender age of 10 are brought on by stress, in which case I should have seen this one coming. For the past two months I’d been painting 12-15 hours a day to get ready for an exhibition where I was the featured artist and in the interim had suffered the end of yet another failed relationship. This had been a recurring theme for me over the last ten years. After having never gotten into anything serious all the way up through my twenties and early thirties, which of course were also the years that I had spent battling drug and alcohol addiction, I had since attempted to find that elusive special someone with disastrous results.
The most recent of which was Laura, a thirty year old photographer whom I had met at one of my exhibits almost a year ago. Don’t get me wrong I am not a lesbian in the true sense of the word or even bi on a regular basis, but over the years there has been the occasional woman who just seems to catch my interest. We had been living together for the last six months but eventually Laura, like the others before her had complained I was cold and distant, having heard that same line so many times before I guess I can’t deny it, but considering some of the things I’ve been through I do the best I can.
Trying to get my mind off of those things I got up and tossing out my coffee cup walked around a bit. I hadn’t texted Mark to come get me until I landed so I had a few minutes and I couldn’t sit still. The thing about insomnia is the more tired you get is the more wired you get. As I wandered around the lobby I enjoyed the looks that I was getting from the few people still wandering around at ten pm on a Friday night.
Normally my appearance is not all that remarkable, I am a tall , slim very attractive, brunette. My most noticeable feature being a pair of amazing crystal blue eyes that most people think are contacts. Today however I had a private showing at The Black Flame, a notorious Goth club where Black Masses are held in secret every Friday night, well secret to all but those who attend. The showing ran late and unaware there was a delay I raced to the airport without taking the time to change so needless to say I was quite a sight especially for boring old little Rhody.
I had straightened my long normally curly jet black hair (which I will admit to coloring over the last couple of years) so that it hung more than halfway down to my waist, that along with my heavy black eye makeup was a sharp contrast to my fair, no let’s be honest, ghostly white complexion. My right arm from the tip of my shoulder down to my elbow was covered by a huge green and black tattoo of the Greek gorgon Medusa, the coils of her serpentine body wrapping around the inside of my arm as well, I was wearing a sleeveless tight black top that was held together by a row of metal hooks in the front, and although my skirt was ankle length, the slit up the side ran almost all the way up to my hip, the ensemble was completed by a pair of knee high black boots with three inch heels. I certainly didn’t look like your typical woman pushing forty coming to see her brother.
Not that I was typical in anyway and nor for that matter was my brother Mark, as the two of us had not exactly had an easy path to where we are now. As I finished my little tour I sat back down and as was impossible not to do when visiting home I caught my mind drifting towards the past. Whenever I allow this to happen I am reminded of a quote from Milton’s Paradise Lost: “Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.”
Mark and I had been separated at a very young age when our mother had to give us up and through a twist of fate were reunited in a foster home when we were older. I was almost eighteen at the time and had been adopted by Doug and Denise Hanson whom I have since been happy to call mom and dad. Upon getting news from a social worker that they had located my younger brother, Mom and Dad immediately got him placed with us despite the fact he was almost sixteen and had been considered a problem child.
In the time we had been apart neither of us had gone through unscathed. I had been sexually molested for almost two years before being placed with mom and dad at the age of twelve. I was told later on that because of it I could never have children and even now thirty years later am still plagued by brutal nightmares which don’t help with the insomnia any. On Mark’s end he had bounced around for a bit and ended up in a home where he was beaten so badly his skull had been cracked, putting him in the hospital which is what led to us ultimately finding him. It goes without saying that Mark wasn’t too well off and it was almost a year before he would even speak on a regular basis he also suffered from severe night terrors, and to this day cannot sleep in total darkness.
As for today however, both Mark and I have done quite well for ourselves. After finally becoming abstinent from drugs and booze at the age of 34, I have made quite a name for myself as a painter in the underground Goth scene. At my last exhibit I sold three paintings for $10, 000 a piece and at the showing today, I received a $5, 000 deposit from some rich poser who was going to pay me another $20, 000 for as he called it “A Megan Decosta Original.” In case you’re wondering my parents are extremely religious and my paintings could put Bosch to shame so I use my birth mothers name as my professional alias.
On his end Mark has also done quite well for himself, despite spending his early twenties drinking like a fish, and fucking- as well as fighting- like an animal, Mark graduated Summa cum Laud from Suffolk university and is currently a senior partner with one of the best Law firms in New England, where he has become one of the top prosecutors in the private sector, having to date never lost a conviction. In addition Mark has obtained some local notoriety. Dubbed by the press as “The Bad Boy” attorney as much for his wild past as his almost legendary nightlife Mark has it all, looks, money, connections and of course women, his pick of them. My brother has a mantra “Every woman wants him every man wants to be him.” Sometimes when I’m around him it’s hard to argue that it’s not true.
Of course this is what the world sees. On the surface we are as good as it gets, underneath however the two of us are more than a little broken. Both Mark and I like a lot of abused children live with a constant fear of rejection and a feeling of emptiness that can never be filled although we’ve tried. I spent years trying to drown it in drugs and alcohol, now that addiction is in check, its working my ass off and spending brief periods of time pretending to be happy with someone who cannot possibly understand me. For my brother its pure excess, Mark works out two hours a day, holds three different black belts and works 60+ hours a week, with a sex life that consists of a series of 20 year olds that he refers to as pets, trust me I am not the only one with issues here. A couple of years ago Mark put it best when he said that he was like an Easter egg that someone had saved for awhile. Sure it was pretty on the outside but if it cracked you wouldn’t want to be around to see what was inside.
Speaking of the devil, or as he puts it sometimes “Just one of his servants.” I saw Mark come around the corner and enter the lobby. As I watched him I couldn’t help but smile and enjoy the show. Extremely attractive people have an air of chaos about them, Eyes widen, jaws drop, and people receive dirty looks from their spouses when they’re caught staring. My brother was one of those people, as he sauntered through the lobby every woman regardless of age turned to look as he walked past and the best part of it was that in just faded jeans and a tank top not one of them knew that in addition to the looks he was a six figure a year attorney. Mark saw me and as he came over I stood to greet him.
“Well hello my beautiful little brother.” I said reaching out to embrace him. I meant to just give a quick hug, but found myself squeezing him tight and holding on, realizing just how much I had missed him as well as how badly I needed him right now.
“Hey big sis.” Mark said softly in my ear, as he spoke I felt a sense of relief flood through me. I knew everything would be okay now. Ever since we were reunited, no how bad things got or how many people I alienated Mark was the one constant; he was everything to me, my brother, my best friend and the one person who had never given up on me. I finally let him go and stood back to look at him.
“Damn I’m glad to see you.” I told him and smiled, now despite my dark persona and appearance I have been told that I have an infectious smile, blessed with the type of full lips most women get injections for, my smile is actually a bit lopsided, but is genuine and always touches my eyes. It was the type of smile people that always caused people to smile back. Which is exactly what Mark did, flashing me that killer smile that had spread more legs than a gynecologist.
“Same here Meg, it’s been awhile.”