December Deaths to Christmas Caress

"Yeah, well we know growing up, it was always my fault! It always seems to be them and us, only now you're being one of them!"

I hugged her and she stiffened, before softening into the embrace and said, "I'm sorry. Its just shite. Both of our parents are dead, Eamon," as I patted her back and told her it would be alright.

As the other two came back inside, she apologised to them too and soon we were having a group hug in the living room beside the coffin where Mum lay and I said, "You know she would kick our arses if we fell out with each other now," bringing a smile to everyone's faces.

####

As evening fell, I had been out to lock the shop and Theresa was having a warm shower in my flat above the pub. Of course I had suggested that she stay here the night but she wasn't ever going to leave the body of Nora, Mary O'Leary, our dear mother.

As she was getting her things together, she stopped beside me as I packed a bag full of food, a bottle of whisky and a bottle of vodka, along with my funeral suit which I had hung in the back of the car. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"You didn't think I'm leaving you there alone?" I replied, as I looked at her in her black, knee-length skirt, black sweater that came down in a "V" at the front about halfway down the material and black DM Boots, I could see tears in her eyes.

"You really don't have to," she said

"I know......but it's what families do," I replied as I put my arm around her, pulling her into a hug, noticing that she hadn't winced or pulled away like she always had. But then it was over as she pulled away, almost un-nerved by the experience.

The night before the funeral (The Wake) is always less sad, with friends and family telling stories. however, one of the saddest things here was that most of my mother's friends had passed away. Where Dad had been well known in the village, Mum had kept herself to herself and in contrast to my Dad's wake, this would be a quiet event with only a few relatives. As we arrived in the house, where it was taking place, I spotted my uncle Michael who was now in his 80s, and he came over to shake my hand and do the usual, "I remember when you were this height," thing. He then went to hug Theresa and I immediately saw her tense up and cross her arms over her chest. She hated being hugged at the best of times, but that fallout all those years ago had left a mark as she then immediately went to talk with our sister, Aisling, who gave her a lengthy hug.

The night progressed and by 10 o'clock everyone had left as the snow was falling again. I had arranged taxis for everyone staying in the hotel (did I mention that my mate Mark was also the taxi company as well as the undertaker?" Soon, it was Theresa and myself left waving goodbye to everyone.

"That was different," I said, "Uncle Michael hasn't changed much," I continued, wanting to probe a little deeper into the rift.

She turned to look at me as if wanting to say something, before pausing asks just saying, "Yeah," and walked into the house.

I added more wood to the fire and sat down in front of it. I turned the TV on but I wasn't really watching it when Theresa came out of the kitchen and offered me a cup of tea. I was full of tea from drinking it all evening, as none of the guests really drank anything stronger. "I'd prefer a glass of whisky," I said, holding up the bottle. "Fancy a Vodka and Coke?" I continued, holding up both bottles of what I knew she always drank.

She smiled and said, "Yes please," as she walked towards me and I noticed she had taken her boots off and replaced them with fluffy, pink slippers.

She sat down on the single seat, in the reverse of last night with me on the single seat, and took her drink. We chatted about our parents and all the good times we had. Mum had a great singing voice, usually singing at family gatherings and I joked that she could take up the mantle, to which she held up her glass saying, "I'll need a lot more of these for that."

As the night went on, she went outside to use the toilet and as she came back in she exclaimed, "Brrrrr, it's freezing out there!" Also, she leaned down and put her hand on my cheek, giving me a tremendous glimpse down her v-neck top. I moved and gestured for her to sit beside me, right opposite the fire and she hesitated, smiled, lifted her drink and sat down to my left.

She didn't exactly resemble someone entirely relaxed, arms down each side and sitting forwards after setting her glass on the floor at her feet. "You look like you're sitting on the toilet, relax," I said and she laughed, lifted her Vodka and Coke and sat back. She leaned on the arm of the 2-seater, angled away from me as we stayed and chatted for about an hour until, again, Theresa needed the loo.

Out she went, and as I stood at the back door having a cigarette, I heard a clatter followed by some swearing and cursing. Round the corner she came, holding her right shoulder saying, "I'm only after falling. That pathway is like an ice rink!"

I immediately went to help her in, and noticing she didn't pull away but linked on my arm, I knew she was unnerved and sore. "I'll get you some pain killers," I offered but she politely refused, saying she didn't want to mix them with the Vodka, and would just go to bed. Off she went into the bedroom leaving me in the firelight for about half an hour, before I needed the toilet.

As I came back in, I heard her calling calling me, "Hi, ya alright?" I asked, noticing she was tucked up in bed with the duvet up to her chin.

"Yeah, just a sore shoulder, I'm a stupid bitch. I couldn't even get my PJ's on," she said, rubbing the shoulder underneath the sheets. I then had inappropriate musings of what she was now wearing in there, and also how cute she looked, like Marilu Henner only with curly brown hair, laying there with nothing but her head visible. "Wanna sleep in here, on the other bed?" Theresa asked, and with no real excuse as the fire had died down by now, I happily accepted. After turning the TV off, locking the doors and ensuring the fire was safe, I closed the door behind me, noticing my sister asleep with her back to me, facing the wall as I stripped to my boxer briefs and climbed in to the little bed.

Immediately, I regretted the decision to take my clothes off as the bed was like ice and I wriggled around for a while, trying to generate some heat. "Are you OK?" I heard from the other bed.

"I'm bloody freezing, sorry for waking you,"

"I.....I wasn't really asleep. My mind won't switch off," she said in that sad, lonely voice.

"What are you thinking, Mam and Dad?" I asked, immediately thinking it was a stupid question.

She paused, said, "Yeah, mostly," then took a deep breath and said, "Michael touched me, Eamon. He.....did things to me.....and Aisling."

"What? What the fuck? When?" I spat, sitting up in bed and turning the dim light on, noticing she was now on her back.

She didn't turn her head or look at me and said, "Years ago, just after I turned 18. That's why he stopped coming over. I told Mam and she told me not to say things like that. Then I told Dad and he caught him in my room and threw him out at the end of a shotgun, telling him never to come here again or he'd shoot him. He was here today, Eamon," she cried, now in full flowing tears.

I didn't want to freak her out by rushing over and hugging her, so I just said, "It's ok, he won't be here tomorrow. He'll never be near you again." I waited about half a minute and asked, "Theresa, can I get you anything....tea or something?"

"I'd love one of your hot whiskeys," she said in a teary voice and I sprang to my feet, saying "Coming right up."

I brought her in the whisky to find her sat up in bed again. Her arms were out and I noticed she was just wearing a bra up top, as her shoulders were exposed. I handed her the steaming tumbler and she smiled saying, "Thanks. You're always there for me," which surprised me as, to my knowledge, I had hardly ever been there for her.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and she went on to tell me that she would take refuge in my room when she had nightmares, or anything to do with her ordeal with uncle Michael happened. Hearing me breathing was apparently enough to sooth her and it killed me to be honest, thinking that I had been too young to really help her.

"Eamon, can I ask a favour?" She said.

"You can ask me anything," I replied.

"Hold me?"

I moved onto the bed beside her and sat up against the wall. I stretched my arm around her, taking care not to hurt her injured shoulder. She reached her arm across me and awkwardly snuggled in, the barrier of the sheets between us not aiding my comforting her. I was also getting REALLY cold, and about five minutes of silence later, She said, "Your freezing, get in," and rolled away from me.

I crossed the room to turn out the light, and plunged the room into darkness. And when I say darkness, I mean rural Ireland black, pitch dark nothingness. I felt for the bed and noticed she had lowered the sheet for me, to her left. She had her electric blanket switched on and the bed was oven temperature warm. Then she moved closer and put her right arm over me, and if the electric blanket felt hot, the warmth of the bra-covered right boob and belly of my big sister pressing into me, was scorching.

"Is this OK?" She asked.

"I'm OK if you're OK," i replied, gently rubbing her injured shoulder until her breathing suggested she had fallen asleep. I took the opportunity to switch the electric blanket off, not wanting to burn to death during the night. As I leaned back into bed, she snuggled into me again only this time, I was lower in the bed and at this angle, the only place I could rest my hand was her midriff or her hip. I chose hip and immediately was relieved to feel her skirt was still in situ. And that's the way we slept until morning, when I awoke to, thankfully, no morning wood.

####

I woke to find my sister cuddled into my side, "Morning," she croaked in a sleepy, crackly tone.

"Hey, how are you today?" I replied, looking over to see her bare right shoulder peeping out, and a smile on her face.

"I'm fine, just sad about Mum, and Dad, and my husband being a big, cheating, shit in bed cunt....and uncle Michael too. Actually, scrub fine, I'm shit!" She giggled and and realising I was looking at her bare shoulder, she said, "I....My bra was hurting my shoulder. I hope you aren't embarrassed."

Almost right away, I felt the different sensation of a spongy, soft breast resting on my stomach and replied, "Sister, the day I complain about waking up with a beautiful, topless woman in my bed.....shoot me!"

She laughed and rolled off me, clutching the duvet to keep herself covered and said, "Trust me, you'd be the one being consoled if you seen me in the nude!"

"Hmmmm," I said, and got out of bed, "I'll have to take your word for it," I continued, giving her outline in the bed a quick scan. I then went to go and do the papers, leaving my sister still in bed.

The day of the funeral was tough. I was looking out for all my sisters as we walked behind the hearse, all dressed in our most mundane, warmest black clothing in the snow. You might be wondering about Michael, my despicable ex-uncle. Just let's say he had a "Little Chat" with Mark the undertaker, and one of my doormen from the pub. Long story cut short, he decided not to attend. They didn't beat him, I wouldn't do that to a man in his 80s. But as the message was so loud and clear, we never saw him again.

After the small funeral, I had the family back to the pub. It was lovely, just the 4 of us with partners now, all siblings feeling like little orphans. Aisling took me aside and said, "Theresa told me what you did today. It was a relief, HIM not being there." She gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, the third one ever, I think. I asked her why she kept it all to herself all these years and her reply will go to my grave with me as she said, "How did I know you would believe me, Eamon? Our own parents didn't for years."

I was speechless, eventually saying, "I'm so, so sorry," to which she laughed and pointed out I wasn't even born and then hugged me again before announcing she was going to bed. Roisin yawned and said that she was turning in too, leaving Theresa and I alone in my pub. Not ready for bed yet, I suggested karaoke and she said, "You're actually insane!". I fired up the machine, which incidentally was one of the first in Ireland, and she looked at me like I had two heads but eventually agreed. Together, we sang Island In The Stream, by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton and for the first time in nearly two weeks, laughed, knowing Mum and Dad would be smiling down.

As we went up to bed in my lovely, warm apartment, I noticed Theresa holding her shoulder and asked if she was in pain. She told me that her pain killers had worn off and it was stiff and sore.

"I'll give it a massage with my healing hands if you like," I offered.

"Hmmmm, is it safe? I heard rumours about your healing hands from one of my mates!"

"Which one?" I gasped, feigning shock and offence.

"Catherine Waters!" She gleefully said.

"Oh," I replied, remembering how my hands had indeed been 'Healing' every part of her body. Not my finest hour, I had been in a relationship with her younger sister and was 'Caught with my trousers down' with another woman. Catherine had came round to the pub one night to scream at me on her little sister's behalf and.....well.....one thing led to another and we ended up in bed together. We had several other nights together, and although her 38f tits were amazing, it just wasn't getting deep for me and I stopped asking her round. "It's the tough old life of a barman," I quipped as Theresa went into my spare room, smiling back at me as she closed the door.

She had been in there for about 15 minutes and I assumed she had gone to sleep and popped my head in, to find her sitting up reading a book. She put it down as I sat on the edge of the bed, and I asked her how she was.

"I'm very sore, and sad. But.....thanks for getting rid of uncle Michael earlier," she replied, looking deeply into my eyes.

"Ex-uncle Michael," I corrected her.

"Ex-uncle Michael," she sighed, as if it comforted her with assurance that he was gone from her life forever.

"Now, what can I do to help your other bad pain?" I asked, gesturing to her shoulder and continuing, "Do you need drugs, all legal of course.....though I do know a man....."

"No, I'm ok for drugs, legal or psychedelic," she laughed before biting her lip and asking, "Would that massage offer still stand?"

I stammered, trying to say "Yes" several times before it came out. I told her, "I'll go get some baby oil I have in the bathroom."

"You have baby oil, Eamon?" She asked, before shaking her head whilst giggling and said, "Actually, I don't wanna know why!"

I came back into her room with my big bottle of baby oil to find her lying on her front in bed, covered to the shoulders that were now naked. I assumed she had just pushed the bra straps down as I moved to stand beside the bed, just beside her shoulders. I rubbed some oil on my palms, before gently placing them on her right shoulder. I heard her let out a sigh as I started to knead the tight muscles, and she turned her head to the side on the pillow to face the wall.

After about ten minutes of massaging she said, "Thanks, could you do the other one?" I immediately agreed and stretched over to do the left one, when she said, "Wouldn't it be easier if you sat on me?"

I gently straddled her back, feeling her shape through the bed quilt with my knees as I massaged her shoulders, one in each hand. I brought both hands up her neck and she stretched and she moaned, "That's really nice."

I massaged for another several minutes, routinely making her moan by rubbing her neck in both hands. "Are you OK? I asked, in a soft breath to her right ear.

"Can you do my back?" She asked and I happily obliged, rolling the quilt cover down to her buttocks. I started to massage her Again, having straddled her once more and taking care not to cover her white bra in oil. She must have known I was being cautious, as she tutted, reached behind her with her left hand and fiddled at the bra clasp to no avail. "Eamon,"she said.

"Yeah?" I nervously replied.

"Will you take my bra off?"

I cleaned my hands as best I could and fumbled with the little fastenings hooks. Two of the 4 came unstuck, and I struggled to open the remainder before they too finally surrendered. She pushed herself up on her elbows and I slid it out from her left hand side, painting a mental image in my mind of the fabric brushing her nipples as it passed under.

I gently went back to oiling every piece of skin on offer, from the small of her back where my thumbs met with her spine, to tops of her shoulders. I rubbed down her arms to, including her hands as the lay at her sides and then back to her neck, where I worked out every knot and tension I could find. She moaned again as I rubbed around where her hair meets skin on her neck, with my thumbs. I would be lying if I said it didn't make my already semi-hard cock sit straight up in my boxers. I focused on that area, just going between it and her shoulders as she started to breathe deeper.

I moved my hands in parallel down the glistening, bare back in front of me and massaged her sides, and a little around the front to her tummy and she giggled saying, "That tickles." I gently rubbed up her back and sides and she raised her arms above her head, resting her hands underneath the headboard as if grabbing hold of the edge of the mattress. I was now momentarily faced with a decision as to whether to keep doing the same pathways, that'll bring me into contact with the sides of her breasts, now bulging into view out to the sides of her body after the stretching, or go straight up her back. I closed my eyes and continued, only to feel the bulging softness gently slide past my fingers.

I lingered there, rubbing them again, and up under her armpits and she almost hissed as she inhaled then moaned on the out breath with a high pitched, "Mmmm," to follow, as my featherlight grazes made her tingle.

She moved her arms again down to her sides and I thought she was trying to protect her vulnerable areas, but then she leaned up on her pillow, bringing her body up off the bed and says, "keep going." Returning to the same motions, it was not long before I massaged up the sides of her body. Coming to her ribcage where I hesitated, applying more oil to my hands and continued up her now curved back, up to her neck, then down her shoulders, underneath her armpits, down the front of her shoulders and chest, and onto her hanging breasts. Again, I close my eyes, massaging the hefty mounds, filling my hands as my chest touched the slickness of her back and she breathed, "Eamon!"

I froze and immediately released. Reality punched me in the stomach like a blow from Mike Tyson as I tell her I'm sorry, over and over, almost crying as I plead for forgiveness. Sitting at the side side of the bed with my hands over my face in embarrassment, I reaffirm, "I'm so sorry, here you are in your hour of need, and I'm taking advantage like......."

She cut across me, saying "Don't say it! Don't you ever compare yourself to Michael," as I hear her putting her top on.

"I touched you where you didn't want me to, I'm a fucking idiot," I protest, still with my head in my hands, elbows on my knees almost double over on the bedside.

"Eamon, look at me," she said, and her voice tells me she's in front of me. Looking up to her deep, blue eyes I saw tears in them. She took my hands in hers and breathed, "Eamon, you have not done wrong, you're trying to make me feel better. Do not ever compare yourself to...that beast."