Unfortunately my actions had strained my father and I’s relationship more so than it had with mom. A huge part of that was that Dad was aware of much more that had went on. My father had bailed me out of many situations and always gave me the “don’t tell your mother”. It was a chain reaction, mom knew some, dad knew more, and Mark? Well he had seen more than even my father could imagine. As I stayed in my father’s embrace I couldn’t imagine the pain I had put him through. I remember standing there next to dad in court, my head down in shame as the judge not only read off the charge of prostitution, but mentioned that it had not been the first time. Hallmark doesn’t make father’s day cards that celebrate occasions like that.
We sat around the parlor for awhile and I kind of repeated some of the same things I had already said to mom including Laura which dad was more than okay with. My father isn’t quite a bible thumper but is pretty devout and considers homosexuality a sin. As a matter of fact one of the first-there were a few- times he had thrown me out of the house was when he had found out I had been seeing Betty as more than a friend. Of course the fact he had found out by walking in on us may have added to the emotion of the moment. After a half hearted “that’s too bad” about Laura, the conversation moved on to Chicago in general.
By then it was after six and mom offered to cook. After dad made a crack about he thought the point was to get me to stay, I offered to take them out to his favorite place Twin Oaks. Over dinner I told them about Walsh and they were both beside themselves. I did notice however that when mom made the comment that it was wonderful that both their kids were so successful that dad gave her a look. I always thought it was sweet mom called Mark her son. He hadn’t come to live there until he was almost sixteen and was out just shy of twenty, but that didn’t matter to mom. If I was her daughter and Mark my brother, then of course he was her son.
Dad on the other hand had never really bonded with Mark. Don’t get me wrong dad tried to be good to him and genuinely felt terrible about what Mark had been through, however there was something about Mark that dad never really trusted. Eventually dad told me that he had just felt that they had gotten Mark too late. That unlike myself who for all I had been through still came to live with them fairly young with a chance at a normal life, Mark was already damaged beyond repair. Dad used to say that when he would look into Mark’s eyes he got the impression that there was something dark behind them, that he wasn’t quite right. Four years later after the Max incident dad had looked like a prophet.
Once back at the house dad disappeared to watch the ten o’clock news as he had every night for god knew how long, and mom and I sat in the kitchen. When mom started nodding off at the table I told her to go to bed. She looked like a disappointed little kid saying she could stay up. I told her don’t worry about it, I was there until Tuesday, so we would have plenty of time. Mom gave me a kiss and headed off to bed. I drifted into the den and told dad I was going upstairs to bed. Before I left he apologized again for earlier, I saw an opening but it was late and it had been a long enough day. I did tell him that I wanted to take him for lunch tomorrow, just the two of us. Dad said okay but with a look that told me he knew what I would be trying to discuss.
I was heading upstairs when mom caught me and handed me towels, telling me they didn’t really use the shower upstairs anymore, I thanked her and had started up when mom called up to me and told me that they had found a box of some old papers and books a few months ago in the attic that were mine, and she had put them in the closet for whenever I might visit. She said they didn’t look to important, but thought I might want to take a look through.
Standing in the doorway of my old bedroom I was struck by a wave of nostalgia. The fact that the room still looked almost identical to how it was when I first moved out at the age of 22 helped add to that feeling. I looked around slowly, my old bureau was still there along with the desk that dad had made for me when I was twelve. Looking up I smiled, at fifteen my parents had let me paint the entire ceiling into a forest mural complete with birds and small animals of every type. The forest had a bittersweet meaning for me. When I was a young girl, back when we were still with my biological mother I had created it as fantasy world where I actually had friends and places to go. Three years later when I was ten and being molested it became a safe haven in my mind where I would run to when my foster father was having his way with me.
By the end I had withdrawn so much I barely even felt his attacks just lied there and went away. The smile left my face and was replaced by a quick burst of bitterness. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths allowing the feeling to pass. I had been saved from that life and anything that had happened since I had brought down upon myself the past was the past. I walked into the room and putting my bag down sat on the edge of the bed.
I kicked off my sandals and lied back staring up at the forest remembering my first few nights here when I was eleven. Mom slept in the bed with me the entire first week and for a couple of weeks after that would stay with me until I fell asleep. She had bought me a stuffed Scooby Doo (my all time favorite) and I would hold Scooby and she would hold me. It was the first time in my life I had felt safe from the nightmares and memories. Years later they would resurface with a vengeance and it was my brother Mark who would hold me and make it okay.
I remembered lying on this bed sobbing into Scooby when I was sixteen had my first break up. There were of course numerous memories of Mark and myself. I remember the first night that his nightmares had gotten so bad I heard him scream from the other side of the adjoining bathroom and went into his bedroom. That was the first night we had slept together, fully dressed, just me holding him with his face nestled into my chest and me playing with his hair telling him that I understood, that it would be better now that his big sister was there to take care of him.
Of course things would change quickly and within a couple of years it would be Mark taking care of me for well right up to now. Thinking of Mark for the first time since I had left him this morning I felt that I had truly come full circle. Almost twenty years ago I had lied in this bed, sometimes with Mark next to me, sleeping soundly in his big sister’s arms and thought of taking him, of the two of us crossing that line and giving each other what we needed. Now here I was thinking once again of my brother and the crossing of an altogether different line. The final one, when it was just sex it was a dirty little game that we could stop or start anytime we wanted to, a game we had been playing for years.
To have it become more however, to be about a life together was a different matter altogether. How could we pull it off? Granted in Chicago people didn’t know I had a brother, and apparently Mark was willing to come down there, but what about my parents? For that matter, what if anyone ever found out? Mark had made enemies throughout his career, powerful ones, and the kind that could use something like that to destroy him. I was also just starting to really get my career going. Granted I painted and travelled in some strange circles, but even amongst the goth and occult circles incest wasn’t exactly acceptable behavior.
I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Mark. I could just picture him now lying in that amazing bed alone, unable to sleep, staring up at his reflection and probably thinking of me, and how I had rejected him. I could tell by the way we had said goodbye that Mark assumed that I didn’t want him. That wasn’t necessarily true I had just never considered it, and he obviously had been thinking of it for quite some time. I tried calling Mark to see if he was okay, and to tell him good night, when he didn’t answer I sent a text;
“Goodnight my beautiful little brother.”
A few minutes later the phone vibrated with his reply of;
“Sweet dreams my sister.”
I felt hurt he hadn’t answered the phone, but at least he had replied.
As I put the phone down I saw that it was only eleven o’clock. I got up and getting undressed put on a pink night shirt that Laura had bought me and that I would only wear for her when I felt like being cute. I hated sleeping in anything but the idea of sleeping naked in the folks house seemed odd somehow. But sleeping with your brother had been okay though? I asked myself shaking my head. I was and always will be a sick puppy.
Lying back down on the bed I began to prove that theory as closing my eyes I once again envisioned Mark lying on those blood red satin sheets. I sighed, it wasn’t fair that I was in town and we were lying in separate bedrooms. I should be there with him, my long ivory legs wrapped around his tanned flesh. That massive cock buried deep inside of my needy little pussy. Of course that would be after our tongues had worked their magic over each other’s bodies. I slid my hand down and pulling the night shirt up to my hips dipped my fingers down into my already wet slit.
“Oh that’s it little brother,” I whispered. “Lick your nasty sister’s pussy, oh yeah just like that.”
I slid my second hand down to begin to caress my clit thinking not back in the old bed for more than twenty minutes and already playing with myself. It really was just like the old days, well the days before Mark came along anyways when this nasty girls only real form of release was playing with myself. As I slowly teased my clit with just my fingernail, I thought back on yesterday; how Mark had spoiled me start to finish especially in the bedroom. Last night we had relived the first night that we had been together, the night I had come in and taken what I wanted.
Continuing on that train of thought it wasn’t long after that first weekend that Mark started learning how to get what he wanted. I had told him that I would always call the shots, and for the most part I did, but my little brother had certainly had his moments. Stroking my clit a little more firmly I thought back to the first time that I had let Mark take me in my bed, I had really tried not to give in but my little brother had been very persuasive.