Just Jump

He watched his little sister as her hands came up. Her thumbs reached inside of the towel, and with one smooth, downward push the towel slipped down, then fell, revealing her swollen breasts and that wide, smooth, round expanse of belly that carried a growing fetus, a baby, a miniature human being, inside.

The backs of her fingernails coasted hypnotically over each breast as she looked down at them herself.

"They're very, very sensitive. They have been for months. They hurt a lot, so sometimes I can't be touched there. But sometimes that pain feels really, really good, like being tortured to ecstasy. I can't begin to describe it."

Her hands next went down to her belly. Again, the backs of her fingernails traced a sweeping, erotic path. The skin there was smooth and shiny, looking like a balloon filled to the point of bursting, with that same shiny, latex sheen.

"The baby kicks a lot. He's kicking now. Or she."

Her hands came to rest on her belly, palms down now. Her eyes were closed as she felt the baby inside her, moving, kicking and clearly living. Andy longed to feel it, too, but instead he sat frozen in place on the bed.

He wasn't sure what he should be doing, or how he should be acting. This wasn't how he'd planned the evening would go. He'd had hopes, and plans, but he never thought it would be so sudden, or that she would seem so eager, or that she would be in complete control while he felt lost and helpless.

When her eyes opened they were staring straight at his crotch. Her hands came up then, to grasp at the clasp atop his pants. His own hands quickly came forward to hold and still her own. They felt warm and soft under his palms and fingers. She looked up at him.

"You aren't really going to stop me, are you, Andy?"

Her eyes were wide and beautiful. No, he thought. No, never.

As he relaxed his grip, but kept his hands in whispering contact with her own, the predatory smile returned to her face. Her hands began to work, unclasping his pants before working the zipper down with a slow, relentless, accusing sound. She stared at his crotch as she pulled the folds of his pants aside, but was frustrated by his position on the bed.

"Don't make me work for this, Andy. Please."

Andy stood. She pulled his pants quickly down, and his briefs immediately after.

He was hard. How could he not be? His cock stood out like a flag pole as Taylor stared at it with that almost madly predatory smile, now tinged with approving delight. She looked up at him, eyes wide again, expression unreadable now, with his cock there between them, right before her face, just above her head.

"Being pregnant makes me horny, Andy. I've never been this horny in my life. Ever. Not even the foolish, insane evening my baby was conceived."

Her hands lifted up then. Andy inhaled, expecting to feel the marvelous joy of having her fingers close in a smooth, unyielding embrace around his cock. Instead, her palms pressed against his thighs. They emphatically and irresistibly pushed him back down, guiding him to sit on the bed before her. As soon as he did so she spread his legs wider with her palms, arranging him exactly as she wanted.

"Are you going to stop me, Big Brother? Will you stop me now, before it's too late?"

Andy stared at her in rapt fascination, silenced and completely under her spell.

"After watching me shower? After getting all hard and excited by watching your sexy, pregnant, little sister soaping her body in the hot, steamy water? Are you going to stop me?"

* * *

Way Back When

Mary, just one year older than Taylor, had been the first to get married. She hadn't married too young, or so one might argue, but she hadn't waited long either. Finding a good man had always been high on Mary's list, even as it had always seemingly been completely missing from Taylor's.

Taylor sat at the round table, cluttered with half-finished drinks, just beyond the edge of the dimly lit dance floor. She and Andy were supposed to be at the head table with Mary and her new husband and their parents, but center stage was the last place either of them wanted to be. It was more fun to blend into the crowd here, look around, and laugh.

"Oh, God, look, Dad's dancing again. Now with Aunt Marion."

Taylor whipped her head around to see. There he was, looking like a cross between a robot, a chicken and Godzilla. She laughed. Again. It seemed like she and Andy had been laughing all day, and even more so at the reception.

"Look at Mom. She looks like she's ready to explode."

"It's funny how they can torture each other day and night, but she can still get jealous."

"I'm never getting married," Taylor said.

"Same here. Or having kids."

"Never? No chance?"

"None. Absolutely not. Are you sure yourself?"

"Well, maybe eventually, when I've got my doctorate and my career, and if I can find that one guy I know I can really, really depend on to always be there with me. I can't believe Mary's in a hurry to have children. She may be pregnant by morning."

He laughed, and she smiled, because it wasn't entirely a joke. It was true, and it scared Taylor.

"You'd think she'd have learned from what we went through growing up," Andy said.

"No wonder she had us bridesmaids wear black."

Andy laughed at that.

"That's okay. You look really hot in black."

Taylor gave Andy a shy, grateful smile, while Andy continued to survey the room as if he'd merely mentioned that the food was good. It both embarrassed her and excited her when he complimented her looks. She never felt like the prettiest of girls. The smartest, yes, but rarely even cute or pretty, let alone hot.

That was partly her fault. She had her share of love interests, but looking good just wasn't a focus for her, and never had been. Or maybe it just seemed too hard to do. It wasn't natural for her. It was too much work. Or maybe she was pretty, and people just didn't bring it up often because she was so smart. Pretty and smart don't always mix well, it seemed.

As if it were an insult to tell a smart girl that she was beautiful, too.

Maybe it was all of them together. That was just all part of who Taylor was.

But Andy always did it, he always told her she looked good, and always at just the right moments, in the most sincerely off handed of ways, as if it were so true that he couldn't resist, but was too embarrassed to actually do it.

"You'd look good in a tux, yourself. It's too bad her husband didn't make you a groomsman, like Brian."

"The guy you've been paired with looks good, too. Better than me."

Taylor rolled her eyes.

"Please. If Mary pushes me at him one more time I'm going to vomit. She promised she wouldn't do this. Time and again, I told her I want my PhD, not a man. And here he is, paired with me as we walk, beside me at dinner, and just a little too eager every step of the way. I wonder what Mary told him."

"Did he make any moves on you at the rehearsal dinner?"

"No, thank god. But he keeps trying to, now. If I have to avoid dancing with him one more time, I'm going to stop being subtle and just lose it."

"I'll stick by your side. Keep him away."

"Same."

She watched Andy look across the room at his designated companion, an old college friend of Mary's. That wasn't the same thing, though. Mary knew that Andy was a love 'em and leave 'em type. She probably told her friend that Andy was an easy lay, and that's probably what she was looking for.

Andy probably thought the same thing, and wanted it, and Taylor was just in the way. Sticking by her was costing him his chance at some fun, meaningless sex. That irked Taylor in too many ways to count. It bugged her that she was in his way. It bugged her that he couldn't be more serious with girls. And worst of all it made her feel jealous.

After years and years, even as they'd gotten older, she still felt far too inappropriately jealous when the subject of Andy and other women came up.

"Shit, look. Mom and Dad are ready to go at it."

"Look at Mary. She sees it," Taylor said, nodding her way.

"Okay, I can't watch this part. It would be funny, if it weren't so pathetic."

"Oh, shit. Double shit. Another slow song. Is he coming? Look. Look. Is he coming?"

"Yes."

Taylor quickly stood, grabbing Andy's hand.

"Dance with me. One quick, slow, easy dance, then we'll sneak out the back and hang out in the parking lot."

"I'm in," Andy said, as she pulled him to the dance floor, enjoying the easy, familiar warmth of his hand as the sound of the music in her ears and the feel of the alcohol in her blood started to fog her mind and drive her worries away.

* * *

Then

The very moment that his phone vibrated Andy quickly looked and saw that it was Taylor. He put it to his ear, even though he was in the middle of giving a lecture to a hundred disinterested freshmen in a huge hall.

"One moment, people. Go ahead and chatter all you want."

He flipped the phone open while covering his other ear to make sure he could hear.

"Andy? I got the results."

"Shit. Is it okay? Is the baby okay?"

"He's fine, Andy. He's perfect."

"It's a boy?"

"No. I don't know. I told them not to tell me. But I don't want to call her an it. So sometimes I say he, and sometimes I say she."

Andy closed his eyes. He'd been so worried. Part of him didn't want her to do the amniocentesis test. He didn't want to know. But she was right. It was better to know. It was the responsible thing to do. Now that they did, he felt a million times better.

"You're going to be such a good mom. You're sure it... he's okay? Did they look for anything special?"

"They did every test they could. He's fine, they say. Nothing to worry about, at least not genetically."

"Meaning what?"

"Mostly just that he doesn't have any missing or mismatched chromosomes or stuff. There's a lot they can't look for. And anything could still happen. Now that I'm past the first trimester, the odds are a lot better. But... I'm not scared, though. She's perfect. Or he. Everything is going to be perfect."

"I hope so. I've been so worried."

"That's not like you."

"Meaning what?"

He said that too loudly, but the class didn't hear him, except for maybe a few young girls in the front row. He knew why he got a lot of freshmen girls in this class. Before Taylor got pregnant, he was actually tempted to take advantage of the circumstance. Now he turned his back on them to get a little more privacy.

"I'm sorry," Taylor was saying. "I didn't mean anything. Really. And I am grateful. You've offered to help so much."

"It's not just an offer, Taylor. I feel like I have to."

"No, you don't, Andy. This isn't your problem."

Andy was silent at first.

"I'm not going to fail you on this, Taylor. Mom and Brian and the rest can think what they want of me, but I'm never going to fail you."

"I know that, Andy."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I can't wait for you to come here. I'm dying to see you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Andy. I... we can't wait to be with you."

He wanted to say more, but now wasn't the time. He turned back to face the class.

"I have to go. Take care of yourself."

"You, too. I love you."

"Same," he finished lamely, as he stared into a sea of less than eager faces. "I have to go. We'll talk later."

With that, he closed the phone and launched back into his lecture without even bothering to quiet the students, feeling a million times better about life than he had for the past week.

* * *

Way Back When

Before Taylor got to high school, when Andy was just a freshman himself, times got rough in their house. It happens a lot to couples who suddenly find that the burden of managing a financial and parental commitment to the futures of four children puts an unexpected stress on everything, and leaves very little time for the sort of playful romance that brought them together in the first place. They each feel alone and trapped, losing touch with each other when they can least afford to do so. It creates stress for them, and their response passes that stress on to the very children they are sacrificing their own love, knowingly or unknowingly, willingly or accidentally, to protect.

"I don't fucking care what you think!"

The stormy words didn't so much drift into the room as pummel it. Dad was all the way downstairs, but it still sounded like he was right in the hall. Taylor stood timidly in Andy's doorway. She looked at him like she was about to burst into tears.

"That's because you don't fucking think! Jesus, how stupid can you be?" their mom's voice came back.

"It's okay, Taylor. Come on in. Shut the door."

He could see tears threatening to form in her eyes. She looked just like he felt, and knew she looked just like he had some years back. Closing the door muffled the angry bellows some, but not much.

"Are they going to get a divorce?"

Her voice trembled, just like his would have at her age, if he'd had anyone to talk to.

"Them? No. Maybe they should, but they won't."

"Don't say that."

"They won't. Trust me."

Andy said it, but didn't believe it. That very same fear had preyed on his own thoughts for years upon years. What if they split up? What would happen to them? Would they have to move? Switch schools? Would Dad come around? Would they have to, Jesus Christ, stay with Mom?

Taylor started to cry. She fought back the tears, wiping them away and on her night shirt as if that meant she wasn't crying. She didn't make a sound, but the way her lip trembled scared Andy into thinking a wail would suddenly burst out. He wanted to put his arm around her but didn't really know how to even make the invitation.

He had cried his share himself, more than once, until he had stoned himself against it. Taylor sat down near him, but not next to him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he didn't. They just sat there, side by side, listening to their parents dismantle the world, piece by piece outside of his room, as if when they were finished he would open the door to find nothing but a black, empty void with only his bed and he and Taylor left in existence.

* * *

Thanksgiving Day

Taylor felt tipsy. Okay, it was more than tipsy. She felt good.

Life had been empty of late. She'd settled very neatly into a routine, after rocketing through life by getting her PhD by the age of just twenty-three, and an assistant professor's position soon after that. Things had been that way for four years now.

Life was easy. Teach every day. Grade papers. Put off the students and grad students trying to flirt with her, thankfully with most of them lacking the courage to try to do anything more. And watch the professors and everyone else go home to their wives.

But where was the fun?

Taylor felt a little trapped. She wasn't meeting anyone, and it was a little too easy to keep on that road. It was hard to find someone who even remotely paired with her soul.

Her checklist was too long. She liked cute. Not handsome, or rugged, or tall, or sexy, but at least cute.

She needed brains. That was a tough one to fill. They couldn't just be smart and ambitious. She needed them to have an education and a thirst for knowledge that matched her own.

She needed sex. She knew a lot of men wanted sex, but they didn't really need it, or provide it, the way Taylor felt her body and soul craved and would always crave it. They didn't have to be magnificent, fulfilling lovers, but the grunting Cro-Magnon's that she'd already coupled with always tried so hard at first and then tapered off until it became a simple routine of kiss, clothes on the floor, pump fast if pleasurably, then fall asleep.

Sex had to be regular, for her. It had to be meaningful. It had to have passion and investment. It could never, ever become routine. Beyond that, it had to be dirty. As much as she could be a good little girl in public, in private, with a man, Taylor liked to be dirty.

After that, she wanted her space. She wasn't a toy, or a fawning, he-man's cheerleader. She had a brain, and a life, and her own interests and pursuits. She needed room to be herself, as well as to be with someone some but not all of the time as well.

She needed way more than that, and few men could meet any two of her requirements, and not even three, let alone all four.

She really, really missed kissing a guy, but was too bored with the emptiness to kiss anyone but someone she loved.

She took another sip of her wine, thinking to herself that even that was probably a mistake, as she refilled the glass.

She hadn't kissed a guy in so long she felt like she was drying up, from the inside out. She felt like she could feel her insides flaking and peeling, crumbling inward until finally it would crack through, and everyone would scream as she let out one last whimper and settled very suddenly into a pile of dust on the floor.

The ridiculously fantastical image made her smile.

Andy sat on the couch, oblivious, not even watching the game anymore, with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, a half-finished beer forgotten in his grip. Everyone else had moved out to the porch for drinks and such. She could hear them talking softly and laughing on occasion.

Brian's kids were out with Mary's, playing some game in the yard with Brian and Mary's husband and a frisbee. Everyone was just playing or drinking away what was left of the evening, until it was time to end another Turner family Thanksgiving, load up in the cars and head back to normal life, whatever that was.

She and mom and Mary had finished cleaning up after dinner, washing plates, and wrapping assorted and sundry portions of dishes and desserts for each family to take home. She herself had claimed an extra portion of Brain's wife's famous pecan pie. Her older brother had married a winner, at least as far as cooking tasty deserts went.

Her sister Mary had done well enough, too, with Bert. Taylor couldn't stand him, but Mary was happy. She got her kids, and her house, and her summer vacations abroad.

Taylor looked around at Mary's too well appointed house. She had all of the right works of art, tasteful knickknacks, throw rugs, furniture, everything. There was the huge flat screen TV that Andy wasn't even bothering to watch. Beneath it was a dizzying array of electronics. High ceilings. Gigantic rooms. It was a virtual palace.

Mary was apparently very happy. She had everything she wanted.

Taylor listened to the kids outside, feeling a twinge of jealousy there. She wanted kids of her own, some day. She wasn't in a hurry, but she sometimes felt that she had this urge inside of her that had to be buried really, really deep to keep her from settling for the wrong man just to fast forward to that wonderful day, coupled with the nagging fear that when that day came, it would turn out to be a nightmare instead.

So they were all out there, playing or watching or talking, while Taylor and Andy were left alone in here.

Andy sat there, head tipped back on the couch, maybe listening to the game. She could tell he wasn't sleeping or the bottle would have slipped from his hand, but his eyes were too tired to actually watch. Occasionally, when something exciting happened, his lids half opened and his head lolled forward. He'd watch, then quickly grow bored and lean back.

He'd probably had too many beers, like Taylor had had too much wine.

He looked cute. She'd always thought so, even if she'd never let the big prick know it. He had a lot of what Taylor liked in a guy. He had soft, easy features, and a boyish look and expression that could make you think he was five years younger than he was. He had a nice, beaming smile, when he cared to show it, and warm, caring eyes, the kind that made you feel like he was really listening to you even though she often wondered if he really was.