(Author’s Note: I will do my best to be repetitive about descriptions of Regina and the other people involved, but I do recommend that you read chapter one first to get a full background on the story.)
I awoke about an hour later, feeling refreshed and excited, although it took me a while to reincorporate everything that had happened earlier in the day. My mind reels. I had sex with my mother. I didn’t just like it. I loved it. I loved it so much, that if she had been home, I would have wanted to do it all over again. I sat up in bed feeling pretty grungy. The whole bedroom still smelled faintly of sweat and sex, and most of that odor seemed to be coming from my body.
I cleaned up my bedroom, changed the sheets on my bed and took another quick shower. Then I pulled on a tee-shirt and slipped on some cutoffs and went looking for my sister. I don’t usually go without panties, even around the house, and I never went without a bra, but, for some reason, I wanted to stay as near to naked as I could get away with – I really was going through some drastic changes and felt recklessly happy and giddy about the whole thing. After ascertaining that Crystal was in the living room watching TV, I stopped by the hallway phone where I knew I had other unfinished business. I called Patty and said hello.
“Simmons! I’ve been worried about you all day!” There was no recrimination in Patty’s voice just genuine concern. And I knew it was entirely my fault.
I resisted the attempt by weepy chick to seize control of my tear ducts. “Everything’s cool, O’Brian,” I assured her, “I wanted to call to set your mind at ease. I had to take the day off to beat my breasts and do a serious self-cavity search, but I am okay now.
More than okay, really, I feel just great. And you were right about me. I have had many revelations.” Hah! Many revelations: Regina’s understatement of the year.
“Hmmm,” she sounded alarmingly speculative, “Sounds like there’s quite a story there, Simmons. But I know how you hate to talk on the phone, um, you do remember that tomorrow is a school holiday?”
“No, I guess I forgot,” I said. But as soon as I said it, I remembered that tomorrow was one of those teacher-meeting days where they get together and plot against those disturbing young students. “But that’s great! I am so not in the mood for school.”
Patty chuckled, “What I am hinting, O Thick One, is that maybe I should come over and spend the night again so we could talk about these revelations of yours.”
I wasn’t sure if I was ready for Patty yet, but a tingling from below my non-existent belt reminded me of what she had looked like last night when she was so gorgeously naked. Yeah, maybe I was ready for Patty. “Sounds like a great idea. How long will it take you to get here?”
“Um, sitting down to dinner in a minute, so, maybe an hour and a half?” Patty’s voice sounded very eager, but what the heck, so was I.
“Cya,” I said and hung up. I really don’t care for long phone chats, and that is one inhibition I don’t plan to change.
I went to the kitchen, made a sandwich then meandered into the living room while I munched on it. Crystal greeted me with a smile, did a double take on my unseasonable cut-offs complete with bare legs, and then another at my braless-ness. I thought her eyebrows would take off like rockets. But she didn’t say anything but resumed her show, which was ending anyway. I sat beside her on the couch and polished off my sandwich while pretending interest in the lawyer show she was watching.
Actually I was rehearsing how to approach my sister now that we had drifted so far apart. I also kind of spied on her out of the corner of my eye, which was tricky because she kept doing the same to me. Her ice-blond hair hung lazily over her shoulders, nearly to her breasts, so lank and soft that I still envied it, although I had today acknowledged that my own wavy dark brown hair was unbelievably lush and pretty and just naturally brushed out into waves like I had had a perm.
She was wearing a sleeveless white cotton tee-shirt and lime-green terrycloth shorts and sitting crosslegged on the couch. Both her obvious camel-toe in her shorts and the nipples pressing against her thin shirt told a story of no underwear whatsoever, which is typical ‘around the house’ wear for my sister. Her cross-legged posture really showed off her muscular calves.
Her legs were the best in the family, and in this family, that says a lot. But she earned hers the hard way with years and years of gymnastics. When she was much younger she had high hopes of Olympic competition that were viciously betrayed by her own body due to a growth spurt at thirteen that left her much too tall and gangly for serious competition. Never mind that she was a graceful 5’ 10” eighteen-year-old sex goddess now, I knew she still carried the scars of her failure as a gymnast.
I remembered well the onset of puberty-induced awkwardness that had thwarted her ambition and had broken her heart. I also remembered that was the time that I had begun drawing away from the human foible of sexuality and had let that interfere with my relationships with the world and notably, my family. In other words, I hadn’t been there for Crystal when she had needed me the most. Weepy chick caught me unawares and my eyes filled with tears of shame and sympathy.
I have mentioned previously how I despised this female tendency of maudlin sentimentality, but apparently it was one of the prices I was going to have to pay in order to re-regulate my mind to my hormones. I was holding it in check, but barely. When the show ended, she turned to me and caught me with my eyes brimming.
“Gosh, Regina,” her blue eyes looked so concerned, “Are you okay?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry that I have been such a shitty sister to you for the last five years,” I began, somewhat alarmed that the tears were now pouring down my face, and I was so choked up that I barely squeaked out, “But I want you to know that I love you so much,” at that point I was sobbing too much to be coherent, while another part of my brain was pleading with God – Please just shoot me, it would be a mercy, and could you do it before my nose stops up?
But no, God didn’t shoot me in time, and I turned into a puddle in my befuddled sister’s arms, trying real hard not to notice her breasts right now. My sister held me, reassured me, kissed my hair, patted my arm, got a little weepy herself, but excusable in her case. Then she said, “Mom has been warning me for years that you might kinda crack up and come around suddenly like this.”
I was way too far into weepychickmania to bite her head off, which would be my natural tendency, but a part of my brain was still shaking its fist. I guess when everyone in the neighborhood wasn’t watching me sunbathe naked, they were whispering bets as to when I would break down and stop being the dark, moping, sexually-repressed hermit that I had become. Oh well, I had to reconcile myself to their sympathy; after all, I had bugged the hell out them for years.
