Fated

I stayed awake all morning. As my big brother drove, we listened to a CD one of his college friends had made with a band she had formed in Seattle, and I had to admit that she had a good voice, her Malaysian accent adding a different twist to the English lyrics. We actually listened to the CD twice, then spent the rest of the morning simply chatting.

Once again, I was wearing a skirt. Throughout much of the drive, Eric kept a hand upon my bare left thigh, directly below the hem of my skirt. Admittedly, I enjoyed his simple gesture of affection, and for most of the morning, I had a hand atop his.

We stopped around lunchtime at a gas station which fortunately had a Subway: good nutritious food for a relatively low price. We ate as we sat upon a picnic table with a nice view of the highway we had just exited, so we essentially had front row seats when a semi plowed into the median-based support pillar of a bridge and brought untold tons of concrete onto the highway. Other than instantly calling 911, we knew that there was nothing we could do, but it also made us realize that accidents can happen at any time and affect us in unexpected and perhaps unimaginable ways.

Needless to say, we were quite delayed. In fact, the police wanted us to stay in town that night in case they had additional questions for us. Fortunately, we had a two-day window between our expected arrival at our apartment and the opening of the arrival window for the Allied driver, but it still meant a significant change in our driving schedule.

The police worked their contacts to get us into a hotel near the police station. It was a local family-run hotel, not a big national chain. There was a pool, but it clearly had not been cleaned in several days, and I doubted there was enough chlorine in the water. The only Internet access was through a pair of computers in the lobby which used dial-up connections. There was no hotel restaurant, which was not a surprise, and definitely no room service, but there were several fast-food places within three blocks of the hotel. The television only offered the local channels – there was no cable or satellite option. For an extra fee, we could rent a DVD player and have our choice of several old DVDs which the staff kept on hand.

And, strangely enough, we never saw or heard any guests.

Eric and I were called back to the police station shortly after dinner for additional questioning, and at one point, I specifically asked about the hotel. "It's actually rarely used," I was told. "We primarily use it for situations like this, when there are witnesses who are not from the area who need to stay here for a day or so. Or if someone is coming from out of town to testify, we have arrangements with the Prosecutor's Office to have the witnesses stay there where they won't be too easily distracted. And as necessary, we've used that hotel as a safe house of sorts, depending on the level of danger involved. To my knowledge, you and your brother are the only guests there tonight."

When we finally returned to the hotel, it was clear that there were no other guests: There were no lights on in any of the rooms facing the street, and Eric and I took a stroll around each floor and saw no lights peaking out from underneath any of the doors.

"This is a good thing, you know," my big brother said as we returned to our own room.

"What is?" I asked, curious.

"We're on the third floor, and we're the only guests in the hotel. There seems to be only two people on staff right now, and they're both at the front desk. That gives us liberty to do something we otherwise won't be able to do for quite some time probably."

"And that would be...?"

He winked with a grin. "Let's just say that I like screamers."

I knew exactly what he meant. There had been more than a few times on campus that year that I had heard the sounds of sex – not necessarily the slamming of bodies, but definitely the cries of pleasure... and occasionally the screams of pain, primarily coming from Jeff's dorm room, since he was the self-admitted sadist of the dorm and for some reason had no shortage of women knocking at his door.

I was a bit self-conscious, however. First, I'd always viewed sex as something private, so either of us making enough noise to alert others to what was taking place in the hotel room was not something I particularly wanted. On the other hand, my partner was my big brother, and calling others' attention to the fact that

he

was the one giving my body such pleasure was not something I wanted to do.

The hotel room had two beds, each large enough for two people. That meant that we could use one for sex and one for sleeping. The bed furthest from the window was the bed we used for sex. When he entered me, I was on my hands and knees upon the bed, and soon my fists were pulling at the covers, my face buried in a pillow. I honored his wish: I did not try to hold back the sounds of my pleasure, but the pillow definitely prevented my full-throated cries from seeping past the window or penetrating down to the hotel lobby each time he penetrated my hungry body.

For his part, Eric was indeed rather loud to my ears. He truly sounded like a wild animal, and he definitely fucked me like a primal beast. Yet it still was far from the lunge-lunge-lunge that I had experienced shortly after starting at the university. There was a definite passion and desire and love in the way he touched me. Even his rough seizing of my breasts communicated an admiration which had been severely lacking from that initial sexual experience. Unlike before, I did not wish for the possessive thrusts to end, but when they eventually did, I felt cherished, not used.

This time, it was my turn to fall asleep as he showered. I wonder what Eric thought on returning from the bathroom to find his little sister sprawled upon a bed, asleep, naked, his white seed seeping from her body. He has never mentioned it, and I have never asked, but I like to think that he saw me there upon the bed and, even though I was clearly asleep, wanted to dip into my body one more time that night.