Just Jump

"The little alien is doing just fine," she told him, with her own happy smile.

She quickly grew embarrassed, as if smiling at her brother was very wrong and she might get caught doing it. Her head bent down to shuffle some papers, as she tried to look for something on the desk. She walked around behind it, as if chased away by his smile and unable to face him now.

She was acting strangely around him, so Andy worked to set her more at ease.

"I came to take you to dinner."

She looked him squarely in the eye, as if reading him, or considering whether or not she'd accept his offer.

"Come on," he told her, "I'm not giving you a choice. Unless you already have another date."

He let himself give her a teasing smirk, knowing the she'd take it right. She scowled at him briefly before a small smile betrayed her pleasure at the thought.

"As soon as I can find these other papers I need to grade tomorrow, we can go out somewhere to talk. I've gotten so damned disorganized and flighty since I got pregnant. It's great, being able to blame all of my mistakes on it, but it really is annoying. Oh, okay. Here. Let me put them on top, so I don't have to hunt and search again when I come back. I'm going to have so much to do tonight and tomorrow, now."

Andy watched her prattle on, able to keep his own warm, soft smile in plain view, for her or anyone to see. His sister was such a lovely woman. He didn't know why he'd never really thought of her like that, but she was. He'd seen her as attractive, certainly, and at times in a very inappropriately sexual way for her own brother to consider, but he'd never viewed her so much as a grown woman, and not as actually lovely as he realized she was.

She caught him staring at her. She held his gaze before confronting him with a question.

"Where are you taking me?"

"I thought you might like to go to that French place you always go on about, Rober's."

"Rober's? Oh, I'd love it, but we'd never get in! Especially on Valentine's day. You'd have to make reservations weeks in advance, if not months."

Andy grinned at her, waiting for her to figure it out.

"Really? Really?" she beamed at him, before her expression soured artificially. "But what made you think I wouldn't have already had a Valentine's date? Why didn't you warn me to keep the night open?"

He grinned down at her slightly swollen belly.

"Oh, yeah," she said, smiling and patting it.

She walked over to him. For a moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but instead she just stood there, right in his face, her eyes twinkling. He wanted to kiss her, but instead awkwardly turned to stone before her. At last, after a long moment, she planted a very quick kiss on his cheek, then moved away. He felt a sudden ache as she did, as if he were losing an important part of himself the instant she withdrew.

She moved to the door to grab first her long, woolen scarf off of a peg on the wall, to wrap that twice around her neck, and then to take and put on her coat as well.

"I have to dress so damned warmly this winter. More changes. You coming?"

She stood in her office doorway as she said that, as Andy realized he'd been standing there, staring and admiring her the whole time. He finally moved, wearing a sheepish, self-conscious grin. She stood aside for him, he walked through, and she pushed the door closed and locked it with one key of many.

As soon as she'd tucked her huge key ring into her handbag, he put his arm around her, pulling her close and guiding her toward the exit. He expected her to resist, but she didn't. She slipped neatly into place under his arm, with one of her own resting on his coat, and everything very suddenly felt as if it were exactly as it was supposed to be.

* * *

Way Back When

Andy had dodged responsibility and real life, or so it seemed, by pursuing his doctorate. Taylor was doing the same thing for different reasons by pursuing hers. But while Taylor was at the start of that path, Andy was now done. He was once again faced with leaving school and having to finally, really live a mature, constrained, adult life.

"You're a fool, Andy."

Andy glared at the ground. This was happening too often. Brian was right and Andy was wrong. Brian and Taylor were perfect, and Andy was a fuck up.

"Go to hell, Brian."

Andy tried to storm out of the room, but Brian moved deftly to intercept him. Where Andy was a raging, aimless ocean storm, Brian was a powerful, disciplined, unyielding battleship.

"Why? Because I'm trying to help?"

"Because you're butting in thinking that your way is the only way."

Brian put a hand on his shoulder in an annoyingly fatherly way, which Andy looked down at with scorn.

"Being a professor is a dead end. You've got a great PhD! There's gold in it."

"I like academics. I like teaching. And I'm hoping to do research."

"Andy, you could make a fortune in business with a doctorate in computer science."

"That's not computer science, that's building tinker toys."

Andy didn't understand why this was so hard for Brian to get. There was more to life than money. A lot more.

"Tinker toys that companies pay big money for!"

"I don't want to do it."

"You will when you need to put three kids through college, and want a bigger house."

Andy looked Brian in the eye. Brian just couldn't get the fact that Andy was nothing like him, didn't want to be, and wasn't going to change. None of that occurred to him.

"I don't want those things. Any of them."

Their mother finally moseyed nonchalantly into the room, as if she were going to make a cup of tea for herself. Andy couldn't believe it had taken this long.

"Oh, posh, Andy. You will eventually. Listen to your brother. He's done pretty well."

"Mom, stay out of this."

His mother was clearly taken back. He'd never taken that tone with her before. But damn it, he was a grown man now. He had a fucking doctorate! He'd done a thesis on neural systems, for Christ's sake.

"We're only thinking about you, Andy."

"No, you're thinking about yourselves, or about me as if I were you. I'm not like you."

"No one is saying you are, Andy, or that you have to be."

"Sounds like it to me."

"Look, trust me. You're just afraid to leave the college world. Maybe grad school was a bad move for you. I'm actually shocked that you stuck with it."

Andy glared at him. This was the same old shit, every time. He had no idea why he came home anymore, ever. They acted like he was still in high school and would never do anything right or grow beyond that.

He was done with them. They were never going to understand. The only one who seemed to get him was Taylor, and she was off working on her own PhD. In languages! Italian and French and who knew what. Why didn't they get on her case to get a more useful and profitable education?

Because she was Taylor, the perfect little girl, and because she was a woman. Mom never expected her to use her degree, anyway. What she wanted from Taylor was grandchildren. Her doctorate was just a way to attract an educated, well-off husband.

Andy smiled to himself, behind his sneer. In a few years poor Taylor was going to have the exact opposite of the problem that he did, as they pushed her to quit work and find a man. But at least they respected her. They'd be more polite and indirect about their manipulation. To them, Andy was always the fuck up who needed not just guidance, but a bridle and reins, or a leash.

He stormed out, wishing he had never come home to visit, and swearing that he never would again.

* * *

He was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to compose himself when he heard someone enter. He didn't open his eyes, hoping they'd take the hint and leave him alone, when Taylor's arms snaked up around his neck and she hugged him. He stood stone still, feeling her holding him close, with her breath warm and moist on his neck, until finally his own arms moved up to hold her to him in return.

"I'm on your side, Andy."

She said it, then she dropped away. She looked into his eyes with hers wide and innocent. Of all the people in the world, she got it. She understood what he wanted, and she understood him. He thought he could live his life five times over and never find someone who got him the way she did.

"Thanks."

She smiled, and inside he brightened. He had to smile back. He couldn't wait for her to leave so he could go back to being angry, but at the same time he never wanted her to leave at all.

She kissed his cheek, spun on her heel and turned and left. Andy felt too lonely when the room was empty again. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture his anger, but found that it had left the room as well.

* * *

Now

Taylor looked around the room, happy to just lie on the bed and take the weight off of her feet. Carrying this "alien" around, as she and Andy now playfully called it, was getting hard. She didn't mind it. She loved it. But she wished there was a way to take a short vacation from the challenges it brought.

The room was rather spartan, very typical of Andy. She noticed with a wry smile that he had at least bothered to hang two paintings that he'd taken from Mom's attic, including the dumb one with the couple in the boat with the swans. She smiled at that.

He had a couple of spy novels on his nightstand. She reached over to look at the one he seemed to be reading now. He was a terror with books. By the time he finished one, it looked like he'd used it to clean his house, rather than to read.

As she picked it up she saw his cell phone lying there behind it. She looked at the bathroom, listening to the water run. He'd only just started. Andy languished in showers as if they were expensive spa treatments. His water bill must be ginormous.

She looked at the phone, then thought what the fuck.

"Why aren't you texting back? Miss you. I'll be in town. Looking for some fun this weekend."

That was from some girl named Jennifer.

"Hey. Thinking about that Halloween party. Still got your barbarian costume? Call."

That was Kristen.

There were a lot like that. Taylor flipped around, looking for Andy's replies, or other sent messages, and there were very few. What few she found were either to her or their mom or for work or to his buddies, mostly about sports. She looked at more of his inbox. There were more mundane things, plus some more seemingly unanswered pleas from women.

He'd obviously deleted a bunch. He must have deleted his replies as well as anything too juicy, too. But why leave the others? Unless he knew she'd snoop, and wanted her to see them.

She looked at the bathroom door, then immediately felt bad. She was actually feeling jealous and angry at him for hiding things from her, and having women who chased him. She felt jealous. Here he'd been nice enough to invite her in. He'd been as nice as holy hell for months now. He'd never been nicer to her in his life. He'd sold his damned, darling sports car for her.

She repaid him by first snooping through his phone, and then getting angry at him for what she'd found as well as for what she'd failed to find. She put the phone back exactly as she'd found it while she thought about whether she should confess to him that she'd peeked. She should, she knew. It would come back to bite her eventually.

She'd been in his house for all of an hour and already snooped. She never did things like that, ever. She didn't know what was wrong with her.

Maybe it was the pregnancy. She wanted to blame a lot of things on the pregnancy, and hormones, and this little kicking alien that was taking over her body and her mind.

She wanted to, but in the end she knew that it was her, and it was him, and it was them. She just loved her big brother too fucking much, so the boundaries fell away and she made mistakes. Little Miss Perfect made a ton of big mistakes when it came to Andy.

* * *

After exiting and letting Taylor by, fussing over whether she'd manage on her own, then quickly getting dressed, Andy slipped back into the bathroom. One of the things he liked about this place when he bought it was the textured-glass sliding-door on the shower, in place of a curtain. She hadn't heard him enter.

He felt a little bad about peeping, but he couldn't resist.

He leaned against the tiled wall, watching her move her hands over her body. Her outline wasn't as clear through the glass as he would have liked, but the show was still marvelous, maybe even more so through the fog of the mosaic and the steam condensing on the glass. The round balloon of her belly stood out prominently in silhouetted profile, with the smaller balloon of her nearest breast resting on top.

Andy found himself feeling strangely aroused, and as such even more guilty at his spying. He was just curious, at first. He wanted to see how pregnancy had changed her, and how she managed. Now he felt he should go. He started to move to slip out when she seemed to notice him through the fogged glass.

"Andy, is that you?"

Andy froze, as did she, but she soon moved to slide the panel back to be able to see him more clearly. She peered around the edge, with water dripping down her face and into her eyes. A quick brush of the hand wiped it away, so her eyes could open wide to look at him.

"Do you need something?"

"No."

"Do you mind?"

She scowled at him. He started to say he was sorry, then realized he'd have a hard time explaining himself no matter what. He really didn't even know why he'd done it. He just did.

As he thought this, he didn't know what she read in his face, but she suddenly softened.

"It's okay. You can stay."

He knew his shock must have shown clearly, even as he fought to contain it. He wanted to seem cool and composed. He also really, really wanted to leave now. Since she had asked him to stay it felt particularly awkward and wrong, very, very wrong.

She slid the door further open, so it was no longer just a crack to peek around. She didn't open it all the way, to keep too much water from spraying out onto the floor, but he could clearly see her ass and back glistening with water. She'd instantly returned to her shower as if he weren't even there, first ducking her head in the stream of water to soak it, then turning around to lean backwards into the shooting, cascading blast.

When she did so, Andy felt his whole body come to life. Every nerve fiber tingled as the blood rushed to his groin. He looked at her naked breasts now, swollen larger than he remembered them, with a full, round shape, and wide, round, red-brown nipples. They sat atop a belly that looked wonderful, with a wide, smooth sheen, glistening with the fall of water cascading over it.

His cock got hard. It happened so fast he didn't even have time to try to look away, or to think of something inane to tame it. He watched his lovely sister shower, his lovely, pregnant sister, seeing every inch of flesh she had covered in slick soap and shining water, as her body rubbed and massaged every inch of feminine skin. He watched her balance one foot part way up on the shower wall, toe daintily pointed, calve taut, so she could soap her thigh, calf and foot.

When she did the other, her pussy was exposed. She kept it clean shaven, so the water ran down it as if she were still a young girl, an illusion betrayed by the baby growing in the womb right above it.

Andy stared while Taylor very pointedly didn't look his way at all, yet certainly knew exactly what she was doing, what she was showing, and what Andy was seeing. She lathered her body, turned, bent, and postured. She rubbed soap all over that beautiful, wide belly, with a baby, a beautiful, miniature copy of herself, growing inside of her. She turned to let the shower rinse the soap away, then turned again to let it do the same to her hair and back and shoulders, leaning back into the water with her swollen belly thrust forward.

He stared at that belly, thinking of what was going on inside of her, and the amazing things that her body was doing, creating a life, even as he stood here, mutely and impotently watching. He stared until he realized with a start that he had been staring at her belly while she was staring at him. He forced his eyes up to meet hers. Her expression was bland, neither recriminating nor amused.

She reached back to turn off the water, then turned back to him to finally smile at him.

"Hand me a towel?"

"Huh? Sure."

Stupid, he thought. Of course she wants a towel. She must think he's an idiot by now.

He handed it to her. She took it, quickly drying her face, then keeping her eyes and smile on him as she dried her hair and her body, before stepping out onto the floor.

"I should get out, to give you some room."

"Okay. Whatever you want, Big Brother."

He sheepishly retreated, trying not to look back as he left. He started to close the door when she interrupted him.

"Leave that open. To let the steam out."

"Okay."

That was all he could get out. He pushed the door open, then walked self-consciously back into the bedroom, where he lay back on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, to close his eyes and to think, with the image of her beautiful body, glistening with water, seared into his brain.

* * *

Andy had a long time to think. She had spent an interminable age drying her hair, putting on makeup, and doing all of the other arcane and inexplicable things that took women hours in front of a mirror after a shower. He watched her come out, almost disappointed that she had the towel wrapped around her body, except that it was one of the sexiest thing's he'd every seen. With her swollen belly and breasts, the towel barely reached low enough to completely cover her pussy and ass.

She looked him straight in the eyes with a comfortable smile on her face, and held them with hers as she crossed the room to her suitcase.

"I can't wait until my other stuff arrives. I hate living out of a suitcase."

She finally broke their interlocked gaze. Andy sat up on the bed, watching his sister rummage through her clothing, looking for whatever she wanted.

"I should take the time to hang your things up, at least," he offered.

"After dinner. I'm famished."

Andy watched as Taylor stood, looking right at the painting. He knew she would notice. She stared at it for a long while. When she turned to face him she had a predatory smile on her face, the sort of confident, teasing leer that made one feel like they were at a disadvantage, whether they knew it or not.

She walked towards him with a surprisingly smooth glide, considering the difficulty her shifted, increased weight presented.

"You should know that that particular painting makes me dangerously horny."

That, too, caught Andy unawares. It shouldn't have. He certainly wanted her to say it, or at least to think it. Maybe not exactly that. He didn't give two shits about the painting, at least not that way. It actually was particularly important to him, but not as a seduction tool.

She came to him. He stayed there, frozen on the bed, trying to look and act cool and controlled, while his throat constricted and his heart raced. What was he, fourteen?

But fuck, she was sexy when she wanted to be.

She kept that damned, rapacious smile on her face, with those huge, wide, searching eyes darting back and forth between his, trying to read his reaction. She held him with her eyes, as she reached down to the mattress for support, to lean back and lower her awkward form down next to his.

"Not very sexy, is it?" she asked, as she next slipped further down, again using the mattress as support, to arrive on the floor on her knees.

She crabbed over on her knees until she faced him, kneeling back on her haunches, with innocent but determined eyes looking up at his. The predatory smile was gone, replaced with a pretty, pouting mouth, half open in a look of fogged, sensual intensity.