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Amelia
When I leave the store, it is with so much more than what I had set out for. Enough to surprise Mac for months on end.
My next stop is the shoe store, where I pick out a pair of white heels fit for a hooker. It makes me question my own sanity—a question I'm happy to leave unanswered.
With bags in both hands, sweaty from the nerves that are gearing, I announce my return by yelling, "I'm home!"
"Took your sweet time too," Mac yells back, not disparaging but amused. My shopping-fever, as Mac calls it, has always been a source of bewilderment for him and he has never made it a secret how he just can't understand how I—or any woman, for that matter—can find enjoyment in spending hours going from one clothing rack to the next.
"Shopping like women do is psychological torture for a guy," he'd say, and repeat whenever the topic came up, which was often. "We guys? We know what we want and we just go for it. In and out. Fast. Efficient. Easy on the psyche. But you women…" He'd roll his eyes at that point and look up to Heaven to express his bewilderment.
"I bought something for you too, Mac," I say, struggling to sound casual. If only he knew that we women know exactly what we want too, and this one is going for what she wants without holding anything back, nerves and fear be damned.
"A paddle for that spanking?" Mac yells. He really had to say that. In the state I'm in, it’s all it takes for a deep moan to break to the surface, my horny young snatch contracting powerfully and my toes curling as I press my thighs together hard.
"Chinese takeout," I yell back from the kitchen after pulling myself together enough to sound semi-normal. Placing my hands flat on the counter, I hang my head and take several deep breaths in the hope that it can calm me down. It doesn't. My heart rate is still outracing that of a galloping horse and the searing heat between my legs is threatening to set my soaked panties on fire.
"What? No fresh vegetables to help the patient back on his feet?"
"Mac?"
"What?"
"I'm a nurse, not a chef." My cooking is another topic that regularly passed revue. Mom was a great cook, and Mac isn't too shabby in that department either, but any food I prepare is like a lethal weapon to the taste buds, with the potential to send anyone straight to the ER.
"Excuses, excuses."
"Mac?"
"I'm listening."
"If you don't behave then there won't be any dinner for the patient at all," I say, imitating Nurse Ratchet as best I can.
"What? You wouldn't!"
"I Googled Nurse Ratchet, Mac."
"Oh."
"Amazing what you can find on Youtube, isn't it? I think Nurse Ratchet is going to be my role-model from now on."
"I created a monster!"
"But you still love me, right?" A question I've asked a thousand times before. This time, however, there is a hidden question beneath the surface. What I'm really asking is if he loves me the way a man loves a woman, not just as his sister. Stepsister, I quickly remind myself.
"Sometimes," Mac yells back.
"Mac!"
"What?"
"You might want to remind yourself of the vulnerable position you're in."
"Amelia?"
"Yes?"
"I love you every day of the week," Mac says, with a depth of feeling that makes my heart flutter in my chest and gives me hope. The hope I need to go through with this craziness.
"Thanks, Mac!" Going to my room, I still can't quite believe that I’m actually going to dress up like a wet dream. I mean, that in itself is crazy enough. What makes it crazier is that I kept my V-pass in mint condition and I have zero experience in this department. What makes it triple crazy is that he is my stepbrother.
"Amelia?"
"Yes, Mac?" I say, throwing the bags on my bed.
"Some days I love you more than others, though."
Mac
As sorry as my situation is, leave it to Amelia to cheer me up with her teases and jokes. But the sadness of never being able to tell her the truth is there, as always, in the background, sneaking up on me.
"But you still love me like crazy, even on the worst days, right?" she yells from her room.
"Kinda," I yell, my voice stuck in my throat, and to my horror my cock wakes up.
Cursing under my breath, I try not to panic. After she left, I had to wait for what felt like forever for the damn thing to calm down, unable to rub one out and eliminate future humiliation simply because there was nowhere to discreetly deposit the jizz. All the while I mulled over what Amelia had said, unsure if the perceived hidden message wasn't just the product of my own wishful thinking. My sense of morality wants it to be, but every other part of my being hopes that I read her right.
"Kinda? Geez, Mac, you really know how to charm a girl's heart." Charm a girl’s heart? What I wouldn't give to charm hers like she charms mine.
"I'm not really hungry after all," I lie, eyeing the growing bulge.
"Mac, you need to ask yourself this one question."
"That being?"
"Would Nurse Ratchet put up with that?"
Shit. Desperate, I pull my pillow away from under my head. Placing it over the bulge only succeeds at make me feel that much more of a fool.
"Still there?"
"I'm thinking," I say. I am. Thinking about how to explain that hardness once she finds out about it. Racking my mind for possible excuses, I realize that I don't really want to hide the feelings she brings to the surface. Part of me wants to be caught read handed. But then what? I ask myself, my heart sinking at the thought of how that would make me look—a guy with feelings for the one woman who is off limits; forbidden ground, according to the morality that I'm trying not to impose on myself but can't shake.
All because of the hope she gave me by leaving the impression that she wants me as badly as I want her. But what if I am wrong? What then? Miserable, I stare at the ceiling, a scene coming back to me from the past.
Rose's, Amelia's mother, voice comes back to me as clear as day. "One day you will have to stop treating her like a younger sister," Rose said, only days before the plane crash. At the time, I didn't know what to make of it. But seeing the scene replay itself in my mind with a clarity that is complete, I'll swear Rose saw this day coming clear as day. Saw it and approved of it, with that gentle smile that was all her own and an advice that only now falls into place. "One day you will have to see her as and treat her for the woman she has become."
