Bureau de Change

"I've worked out how they met from the inscription. Mum used to work for a builder's merchants. I think he sold paint for ICI." Catherine had the old man bang to rights. His sales patch was South East England. He'd be away for days at a time. Ideal for a man with his hobbies. "I wonder what happened to his family? I mean, we are relatives."

What the fuck? Was she going to ask me to help find myself? It had all gone horribly wrong. "You were very shocked when I told you. His wife may not be alive. His son might not want painful old wounds reopened." I hoped I sounded considered rather than defensive, but I was out of my depth.

"Maybe you're right, Lawrence. I should leave it here. Thank you for helping me find some answers." She leaned over and I was expecting a kiss on the cheek. Instead, she kissed me full on the lips. My arms went round her waist. It was all I could do not to slip my tongue into her mouth. We stood awkwardly in the embrace, waiting for the next move. Just like we had the last time. "I'd like to thank you properly for your help."

My eyes were as wide as saucers.

She laughed. "Not like that. I'd like to cook you a meal. Unless you would prefer to go out to dinner?"

"No, that would be lovely."

"Good. Tuesday evening at my place. Is it a date?"

I nodded. I could not trust my mouth with words.

***

I turned into her road, trying to sort my scrambled thoughts. It was not meant to go this far. I was just going to be a good Samaritan for her mother. But when I saw Catherine, it all changed. I could not refuse her. I wanted to tell her the truth, that we were related. She was my half-sister, for god's sake. But the feelings I had for her can't be all wrong, can they? I'd Googled endless articles on forbidden love between blood relatives. What the fuck do they know? As long as we don't have kids, the only problems are moral aren't, they? Other people's morality. I would tell her. I would have to tell her before the inevitable happened. We were attracted to each other. It was natural. I would tell her and it would break my heart. And hers too, if I was reading things right.

I pressed the bell, as nervous as hell. Catherine opened the door, and I presented the bunch of flowers I'd been strangling all the way from the station. She looked at them and laughed. The sound made my heart soar. I could not tell her.

She was wearing a sleeveless glittery black dress with spaghetti straps. It showed off her honey-coloured arms and shoulders. The old man had Mediterranean heritage, and it had passed down the line. More in her than me, although I did tan super fast, and it lasted ages. I followed her down the hall, trying not to stare at her arse and legs in dark tights and black high heels. I was glad I'd worn a proper shirt, trousers and shoes for a change.

"Do you like my earrings?" Catherine said over her shoulder.

"Er... sure. They're nice."

She laughed. She knew where I'd been looking.

The kitchen was a collage of mouthwatering smells.

"Dinner will be an hour, I'm slow cooking a piece of lamb. A Sicilian recipe." She poured us two glasses from an open bottle and we moved into the lounge. A record was playing on an old record player/ radio combination, from back in the day when Hi-Fi equipment was furniture. Dad had a similar setup. Catherine picked up a vinyl LP. "Do you know the same record is in Dad's house?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I said the same record is in my Dad's house."

"Oh, I didn't notice." Did I imagine what she said the first time? Guilt plays havoc with the senses.

"Do you think they had a song? My mum and Richard Evans?" She lifted the record sleeve up.

I had to look at it over her shoulder. My lips were inches from her bare shoulder. Her perfume was in my nose. I put my hands in my pockets before they got me into trouble.

"I don't know, but there's his theme tune, 'Music to watch girls by'."

"You've really got it in for him, Lawrence. Is it just because of what he did to my mum? Did you find anything to suggest he'd been like that with other women?" Catherine looked at me.

This was the moment to come clean, to admit who I was and to walk away from her. I was a coward. "No. It's just good-looking blokes seem to have it all, and don't realize the value. Let's not talk about him anymore. His ghost has been over us long enough. I want to know about you."

We continued our life stories over an excellent meal.

"You know most of mine, Lawrence. What you don't know is that I was married for five years. It was not a good marriage. When mum got early Alzheimer's, I said I would not put her in a home. It was a convenient point for Steve to jump ship and I waved him goodbye. I moved in here with her for the last two years. Work was very good about it. I could work from home when I needed to."

"I'm sorry to hear about the marriage. What do you do for a living?"

"You got it right before. I'm a sexy librarian." Catherine smiled, and I spluttered into my glass. "Actually, I'm a knowledge officer for a consultancy company. When you think about it, their only asset is know-how. I capture the learnings from our engagements so we can use what works again, ideally with cheaper staff. Although the clients don't get that benefit."

"I know your work. I sometimes get jobs where a company is pitching or delivering findings to clients. People don't want to read, so a picture goes a long way. I started off as a graphic designer, but I'm doing a lot of infographics these days. Animated ones for TV and corporate events as well."

"Wow. I'm amazed we have not come across each other, Lawrence."

Catherine was beautiful and smart. What were the odds I would find someone like her in real life? "London is a big place. People cross every day and never meet."

"I'm glad we did. From your opinion of Richard Evans, I assume you don't have a wife or girlfriend you've escaped from this evening? Or are you the biggest player in London?"

"Damn, I've been rumbled," I joked. "The answer is no on either count. My fiancé Holly left three years ago. The vacancy remains unfilled."

"I'm sorry, it sounds painful." Catherine wanted to know, but gave me the option of refusing.

I was tired of lying to her. "It was. We'd been together five years. We were trying for a baby with no luck. I'd suggested IVF, but she was against. Besides, we didn't have the money. Holly came up with a cheaper option. I came home early from a business trip that was supposed to last two days and found her in bed with my best friend." I swallowed hard at the memory.

"How awful. I'm sorry, Lawrence. I should not have been so pushy." Catherine's hand was on mine. The other stroked my cheek.

"I'm okay now. I even apologized to my friend for breaking his nose. Holly's, broken arm was from her falling out of the bed. I'm not a violent psycho."

"That's the last thing I'd call you, Lawrence."

"I bumped into Gary a year later. He said he had some news if I kept my hands in my pockets. He said Holly made all the running; she said he'd be doing us a favour. She was very persuasive. She had two other boyfriends after me, but neither managed to knock her up. Seems that the problem was not with me."

"Are kids important to you, Lawrence?"

"With the right person, Catherine. I'd even suggested to Holly that we adopt. It would be great to give a child a loving home."

She picked up my hand and kissed it. There was a tear in her eye. "Come on. I want to dance with you to the songs of that old crooner."

***

We managed one song before our lips were on each other. My hands were in her hair as I nibbled her earlobe. She sighed and undid my shirt. Her nails raked at my chest. When the only sounds we could make were sighs and moans, we took it upstairs.

I looked at the single bed. "I got so lonely in a double bed after I split from Steve." Catherine apologized. She was nervous. I unzipped her dress, and it fell to the floor. I held her hand to step out of it and picked it up. "Tights are so unflattering, aren't they? No wonder men want woman to traipse around in stockings and suspenders."

I looked at the front of my trousers tenting. "I think they are doing a good enough job."

She laughed, and I lay her on the bed before she could find other faults.

I undid her black bra. Her breasts were large for her frame and cascaded into my eager hands. My mouth moved from one to the other. Her brown nipples stiffened. I kissed down her stomach and she pushed me back.

"No. You first Lawrence." She made me stand and unzipped me. Before I could say anything, Catherine took me in her mouth and teased the underside of my cockhead with her tongue. I shook. She leaned forward, taking more of my cock in every dip until her lips touched my balls. I have never had a blow job like it. With her fingers behind my balls, she could feel my cum rising. "It's okay, Lawrence. Let it go. All in my mouth. I want you to."

I doubt I would have been able to do otherwise, and I shot five big spurts which Catherine swallowed without gagging. I lay her back on the bed.

"I hope you don't think I'm a slut. It's just that I don't want to disappoint you." She became teary, and I held her.

I sensed there was an issue, but I didn't want to push it. "Let's just cuddle for a while."

Ten minutes later we were breathing hard again. "Please fuck me now, Lawrence."

I threw back the duvet and pulled her tights and knickers down in one go. She'd trimmed her pussy to a designer stubble. She had pouty lips and a prominent clitoris. It couldn't be a fear that she looked odd that was the problem. "You are beautiful down there, Catherine." Before she could object, my face was between her thighs, my tongue raking her soaking cleft. She tensed up, but I splayed her legs and circled her clit with my tongue. She squirmed. "God Lawrence, I think I'm going to cum." To guarantee the result, I slid two fingers into her pussy and found her G-Spot after a bit of searching. She gave me a clue. "Yes, there. Just there. You've got it from both ends. Oh my god, my god!" Catherine made an animal sound as she came. Part scream, part grunt. I'd never heard it's like before. She rode my face. Holding my tongue on point with her hand on the back of my neck until she fell backwards, spent.

"You made me cum. You made me cum." She was crying happy tears.

"I don't think you're finished, Catherine." Her weak objections melted as I opened her thighs again. My left hand flashed across her clit as the right probed inside her pussy. Her hips bucked like she was trying to throw me from a saddle, and she stiffened as she came again. The third time she was too far gone to complain as I slid my little finger into her bum hole and took her over the edge. Her legs snapped shut on my arm like a bear trap as she shuddered.

"No more please, Laurence. I think you'll kill me."

I don't claim any studly skills, but there had to have been a problem in her past. Catherine lay in the fetal position, wiping her tears with the back of her hand and keeping an eye on mine least I inflict more pleasure on her. "I don't come during sex, Lawrence."

"Well, that's a lie."

"No, I mean, in the past. I don't know what it was, I just couldn't. That was why Steve insisted I pleasure him first."

"That's bloody selfish."

"Maybe. But after hours with his tongue and hands and cock and me not getting there, it got to him. I used to play with myself afterwards and cum. He resented it. Said I was holding out on him on purpose. Once he even said, 'Can you keep the noise down while you rub one out, I'm trying to get to sleep?'"

I stifled a grin. "Well, that's not our problem, is it?"

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because we love each other." I'd said the words before I'd processed them. "There is a bond between us. We both sense it. We've not experienced it with other people."

She sat up and put her arms around me. "Oh God, Lawrence. I was frightened to say anything, in case I was imagining it." She reached down and found me hard. "Your poor cock must ache. Fuck me now, Laurence. Fuck me as hard as you can. If I cry, ignore me. They are happy tears."

I slid between her thighs and entered Catherine. The heat and tightness were incredible. Something that felt so good could not be wrong, could it? We started at an easy pace. Our bodies found synchronicity without conscious thought. Waves of pleasure rose through us. I could feel hers and she could feel mine. I was at the brink again. "Take me with you, Lawrence." I pistoned my thighs and felt Catherine spasm deep in her pussy. She went over the top and took me with her. I could count on two fingers the previous times I'd managed to cum at the same time as a partner.

Afterwards we broke into a fit of giggles. The tremors pushed me out, causing more laughter.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Catherine. I am the luckiest man in the world."

She slept on her side in the crook of my arm while I stared at the ceiling. I would not tell her and ruin her happiness and mine. I felt no guilt, and could not stand the thought she might. Anyone who wanted to say otherwise could go fuck themselves. We'd tried to live by other people's conventions. All they had brought us was sadness. We could experience a relationship that very few people could match, and none could celebrate openly. Once being gay was a crime. When would society be able to accept our love?

I must have fallen asleep because I woke to a tugging at my groin. Catherine's hand was at work. I stroked the back of her head and she looked up. "I caught you red-handed."

"Literally." She smiled. "I must be a slut. I can't even wait for you to wake up."

"Again?"

"Yes, Lawrence again." She threw a leg over and mounted me like we'd been doing this for ages. I held her hands to steady her as she rode, but I got distracted by the way her tits shook and cupped them instead. Her pace increased and she squeezed my cock. It lurched inside her, but she was not ready. I stopped her and reached for where we were joined. My thumb circled her clit, and she found another gear, bouncing up and down. I rubbed her clit furiously, and she shuddered, bringing me off for a third time. How could I give up a woman who understood my body so well? She slumped against my chest. A delightful, sweaty mess.

I lay there and said a silent thank you to my father. I thanked him for kicking the bucket and leaving me a life-changing legacy. But also, I thanked him for introducing me to Catherine. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

***

In the morning, I woke alone. I strained my ears and heard a kettle boiling downstairs. Five minutes later Catherine appeared with a tea tray.

"I thought we should replenish our body fluids, as we are running so low." She poured me a cup.

"Whose fault is that, then?"

"Now he's complaining. Is this the same man who begged, `Catherine, fuck me harder, drain me?'"

"It might be. My memory is a little sketchy on the details."

"Liar. You remember it all, as do I. It was wonderful."

"Catherine, I meant what I said last night. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll have me. But I have to tell you something that may change everything. It doesn't for me and I pray it doesn't for you, but I can't lie to you any longer." The 10,000-pound weight was on my chest again, trying to prevent me from finding the words.

She put her finger against my lips and reached for a hairbrush on the bedside table. She brushed my hair forward, parting it on the side and brushing it around my sticky out ears. "You have to tell the truth, Lawrence. Scout's honour."

I sat open-mouthed for a long time. "You know. You know I am your half-brother?"

She nodded. "When did you find out?"

"We both sensed this thing between us. More than just physical attraction. Although, that's great. You were just too at home in that house, despite your pretense otherwise. Then I saw that picture in your bedroom. You have not changed that much. And you didn't come across a writing bureau at an auction. Are you tidying up your father's estate?"

I felt relieved the lies were over. "I just wanted to help your mum, but then I saw you. You asked for my help and I could not refuse. The longer I knew you, the harder it became to tell the truth. You make me happy, Catherine. Was I selfish to want that to continue?"

"I thought about a lot of things after that day, Lawrence. Did my own research. Your dad's house is not on with any local estate agents. I also checked out Richard Evans. His marriage certificate said he married Edith Matthews. You took her maiden name after your parents divorced." I nodded. "He also registered the birth of a son named Lawrence."

I shrugged my shoulders. The only person I'd fooled was myself.

"I did some reading; probably like you did. The moral question aside, it was the medical one that bothered me. When you said you wanted children, even if it meant adopting, that swung it for me. All that remained was the question of our compatibility as a couple."

"Are we compatible Catherine?"

"We are so compatible; I can barely walk and I still feel weak."

"These are teething problems. You are sure you're okay with our blood relationship?"

"I love you like I've loved no one else, Lawrence. Is that because of our blood relationship or despite it? I don't care which."

I moved the tray and pulled Catherine onto the bed. Her walking recovery was about to receive a setback.

I sold my father's house, and she sold her mum's. She still had a flat from when she was married to Steve and continued to rent that out while we took a year off to travel the world. We may have been the oldest gap year students, but we didn't care. That was three years ago. We returned a married couple. Río de Janeiro says the wedding certificate and everyone looks at it twice. 'How would you know a real one?,' we say if anyone gets arsey. We bought a house eighteen months ago and spent the best part of a year doing it up. The adoption process took about the same time. Six months ago, we welcomed baby Emily into our loving home.

***

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