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“What the fuckdo you mean, red?” Noel asks, pushing up from my lap to stand over me. She’s laughing, likely assuming this is a joke on my part. After all, after over a decade, we were finally starting to thaw the ice that has always kept us away from one another. Ice thatIhad cautiously placed between us to save both of us from acting irrationally. And you know, to save me from the possibility of a lengthy prison sentence for fucking a minor.
But I digress.
Her eyes bounce between mine, the laughter falling from her face to quickly be replaced by a scowl when she sees the closed-off body language I’ve reverted back to. “You’re not fucking serious, Saint? All because I’ve never fucked a man before?”
Holly watches us, the silicone cocks and tentacle still gripped in her hands bringing the only ounce of comedic levity to this situation.
“This is fucking incredulous!” she shouts, her voice becoming shrill. “We go through all of this bullshit,” her hand waves toward the table, where the random household items still lay scattered across the surface, “and you can’t even fucking go through with it.”
Stalking to the table, she picks up a clothespin and throws it at me.
Batting it away before it smacks me square in the face, I push up to my full height, towering over Noel, who keeps her eyes locked on me with such an angry fury that I worry she is about to turn me to ash.
“Was this always some game to you, Saint? Just another way to play with my emotions? Another way to run away from what scares you?” She comes closer and closer to me, never breaking eye contact as she continues to hurl clothespin after clothespin at my head.
One bounces off my chest, another hitting my shoulder, and still, the assault continues.
“Why, Saint,why?” Her voice is strained, as if she’s trying to keep the tears from falling. “Why is it so hard for you to love me the way I know only you’re capable of? Why is it so hard for you tolove?”
Noel, never one to back down from a fight—even when I’m clearly trying to retreat—advances on me with each step until we’re chest to chest. Though over a head shorter than I am, her tenacity is fierce, and when she reaches out to slap me across the face—for the second time in less than twenty-four hours—I’m thankful for Holly’s interference, knowing that this time, I would have certainly ended up with a Noel-sized handprint across my cheek.
“Come on, my sweet girl.” Wrapping a hand around my sister’s bicep, she pulls her away with little resistance. “Why don’t we go upstairs and cool down for a little bit?”
With even less of a fight, Noel allows Holly to guide her out of the kitchen. It isn’t until the pair reach the base of the stairs that lead to the second level that my sister turns back toward me, the tears evident in her big, mossy green eyes.
Turning with more force than a tornado cutting through a dilapidated farmhouse, I punch the padded armchair I was previously sitting in before collapsing back into the soft fabric it provides.
With my head in my hands, I replay Noel’s words again and again, wondering if perhaps, I really am unable to love.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, the minutes ticking by in an anamorphosis display of just how twisted time can be.
Footfalls on the stairs have my attention turning toward the sound. I find Holly descending with no sight of my sister.
She’s changed into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms with little Christmas trees of different colors and a simple, black, long-sleeve shirt that looks exceptionally soft. Her hair is up and off her face, piled high on top of her head in one of those fancy buns that look like they took ten seconds when you know in actuality it took time to achieve the perfect, messy look.
Without asking for permission, she plops onto my lap as if it is the most natural thing in the world. As if I wasn’t just entering into a screaming match with the woman she loves. The smell of cinnamon wafts around us as she makes herself comfortable, reminding me of gingerbread cookies fresh from the oven.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asks, no trace of sarcasm in her tone.
However I look at the situation, I can tell there is no getting out of being forced to open up to this still near-stranger. No skirting around the issues that have continually pulled me and Noel apart while pushing us back together with near fatal consequences. “Do I even have a choice?” I bite back, slightly more hostile than intended.
She lets out a little sigh. “Consent isn’t just about what happens in the bedroom. After the little display of showmanship for your sister’s benefit, I would think you would know that better than most. I won’t force you to talk to me, Saint. I know I don’t seem like a neutral party here, but despite what you think, I really do have both of your best interests in hand.”
“What are you? Some kind of therapist or some shit?” I ask, suddenly interested in what makes this woman think she can fix whatever issues there are between myself and my sister that have caused us to fight like fucking cats and dogs since the day we first met.
Holly laughs, the sound breaking some of the tension that has been swirling in the open kitchen since before Noel stormed out. “Yeah, I’m studying to become a therapist…or some shit. I actually focus on adult conflict resolution, so I know a thing or two about difficult relationships.”
“So, that’s what this is for you then? A case study in dysfunctional familial relationships and how the holidays increase the stress on already fraught situations?”
She studies me for a minute, her blue eyes scrutinizing me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness. “And you think that I offered to sleep with you just to dupe your sister into being happy so I couldstudyyour fucked up family dynamic? That I was going to use you for part of my dissertation or something? Christ, maybe you are delusional.”
Holly tries to push up from the chair, but I keep her locked in place, determined to understand her position in all of this mess—to understand why she seems just as desperate for a night with both myself and my sister as Noel seems for a night with me and Holly. “Then explain it to me, Little Girl. Explain to me why a beautiful woman such as yourself would want to share? Why you would want to watch as a man runs his hands over the breasts that belong to your woman? Why you would want to stand nearby as a man pushes his cock deep into the mouth that belongs to your lover, using that spit and saliva to fuck deep into the throat that should be saved for you and you alone? What do you get from thinking of someone else sliding into that undoubtedly tight cunt that hasn’t been stretched by a real, flesh and blood cock?”
Undeterred, Holly doesn’t throw some bratty retort in my face. Instead, a quiet little mewl slips from her mouth as her ass grinds against my lap.
Interesting.
“What’s that, sweetheart? Does the idea of watching me with Noel actually turn you on?”
