The next two days moved quickly by. But the upcoming funeral provided some healing between the family. Ryan and Alexis stayed a safe distance apart from one another and Sandra and her daughter found some common ground to converse over again. Every one was eager to talk about their memories of Allyson, her personality, and the way she had affected them. Sandra opened up a bit more about their one time encounter together, avoiding graphic details, and sticking to the more sentimental portions of the story.
Finally the day of the funeral would arrive. Silence ruled again, the family having little to say as they returned to their innermost connections to Allyson. Sandra had her to thank for the confidence and wholeness she sensed within herself. Alexis was grateful that she and Ryan were together. Ryan was thankful for the same reason.
The somber mood would continue to pervade the atmosphere as they walked slowly up the neatly trimmed hillside of the graveyard. The trio had left the limousine to wander towards the grave and listen to the final words on a beautiful life cut short.
The world was eerily silent. The funeral home grounds were well maintained, the colors more vibrant then nature, the trees more regal and poised. But it was quiet. The birds chirped softer, their footsteps fell muffled in the grass, and somewhere in the distance a bugle sounding Taps trailed off into a thickening air. Each of the little stone slabs that were intended to sum up and define life, stood stoically against the bright green blades of growth around them. Even the occasional bouquet seemed artificial and somehow irreverent.
He would stand alone for the entirety of the funeral service, opposite his mother, sister, and his infrequent partner, Simone. The three women clung to one another, their unified black dresses forming some sort of barrier which he could not cross. Ryan would remember later on, a Catholic priest's Latin incantation, but for now, just the muffled drone of the distortion of the graveyard.
Someplace in side of himself, he didn't think that this was the way that Allyson would have wanted to be remembered. She had been too proud to have been buried this way. She was a queen and they had been her subjects. The queen was dead. Long live the queen, thought Ryan as the service drew to a close and the group slowly turned away from the graveside.
Two limos waited at the base of the hillside. Once more, the older man who had greeted their returning yacht, rode with Simone and the family returned to their hotel. Ryan had started to think that the old man was death, come to collect his due.
The ride back to the hotel was uneventful. Sandra stared out the window, her forehead resting against the cool tinted glass. Ryan had barely recognized his sister's arms sliding around his and her head coming to a rest on his shoulder. It was the first sign of affection that had been allowed in days. But some things seem small when compared to the eternally manicured grass and polished marble of a cemetery. Nothing moves at the right pace there. Everything; light, sound, time, moves in a shuffling step that is abandoned by the rest of the world. Perhaps, life would seem more important then death.
Sandra had shut herself away from her children. Pouring a glass of chilled wine from the mini-bar, she slipped into the bathroom and disrobed. For a few moments, as steaming water filled the Jacuzzi tub, she sat on its lip, one hand trailing the glass by her thigh while the other propped up her head. She had thought she would get over Allyson's death with the finality of the funeral. But that had not been the case and she felt the pervading sense of silence and sloth that came with depression. Alexis' and Ryan's mother would lower herself into the tub, one hand still clutching the thin fluted stem of the wine glass. As her eyes examined some distant place on the opposite wall of the bathroom, Sandra would forget about her drink.
Ryan sat on the edge of the king sized bed in the suite. His head was in his hands and his eyes were hollow and empty. Where would they go from here? Life back home and its monotony would never be acceptable, and he wasn't sure that any of them could survive its return. The soft hiss of a zipper brought him out of his own little world and back to reality. His eyes turned towards the opposite end of the room and the bank of windows that divided it from the outside.
Framed perfectly in the soft amber glow of the afternoon sun as it peeked through the blinds, was the silhouette of his sister. Her hips were shifted slightly to the right, her black dress following her curves closely. The zipper had descended to the young woman's waist and her head turned slowly over one shoulder. A cascade of brown locks dropped with it, covering some of the skin which had peeked from beneath the dark garment.
The sleeveless dress had been very similar to the one worn by Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's". Now the two pieces of material which had arced around her neck, now slid downward, onto the gentle turn of her arm. With a wishful glance, Alexis dropped the dress a little further, pushing it down over her hips and letting it drop to the floor in an ebony pool beneath her. Torturously she bent to pick the gown from her feet. The lacy panties she wore rode ever higher between the pale golden flesh of her backside and Ryan felt something stirring to life within him, other then depression.
He pushed himself from the bed, pacing slowly to his sister's once again statuesque silhouette. As he neared within an arm's reach of her, her long arms slid behind her and popped the clasp on her bra. As soon as they released it, the black strap which had rounded its way around her back fell away, and the outline of her breasts appeared in the sunlight. Ryan prayed that this vision was real, and that he wasn't lost in some dream or fantasy.
In a cautious disbelief, his right arm rose and reached for his sister's stilled form. His strong hands found her shoulder, and she did not disappear at his contact. His fingers applied the slightest pressure to their resting place, and as if on command, Alexis turned. Once more, Ryan found his breath leave him when he needed it most.
He had forgotten the beauty of his sister's beautiful form. The perfection of her feminine shoulders and waist, the pert and full soft orbs that occupied her chest, the coy pout of her lips as she watched him examine her as a hungry man examines a feast.
The hungry man's feast would begin at her hips. At first his hands had just drifted to her side as their gaze met, but once Ryan's attention returned to her body, his hands would examine whatever his eyes wished. They moved from the slight protrusion her hips to the flatness of her belly. Then with thumbs pointing upward they drifted over her abs and ribs till each hand formed a cup at the base of her perfect breasts.
Ever so gently they moved then, sliding, stroking, petting and caressing. Alexis hissed in pleasure as her brother's familiar touch returned. She savored the sanctity of his hands on her flesh and delighted in the reverence with which he explored her. Her own hands moved to the backs of his own, and guided his palms and fingers to the places she wanted to be held. When her nipples ached she would guide his hands over them until they had been satiated. With the gentle steering of captain, she corrected and steered. Soon her breathing was deep and dissatisfied.
Ryan listlessly watched as his sister guided his caresses. Then, still holding his hands, she turned way from him, her own arms crossing in his embrace and her body sliding in close to his. Then once again her directing returned and her breasts were covered by the splay of their unified hands once more. Ryan knew his sister's patience had worn thin when her hands pushed his downwards away from her tits and to the edge of the black panties which had so perfectly framed her ass moments ago. His right hand would slip beneath the material while his left would be pushed up and down the curve of her waist and abdomen.
