Full Moon Over Tulsa

The main room was open, and contained a living room, focused on the fireplace and television, then a dining area with a large, modern table with seating for ten, and a much smaller breakfast table snuggled between the ultra-modern kitchen and the balcony.

The two bedrooms and main room weren't huge, but they were big enough, and decorated more like a Better Homes and Gardens showcase than what I would expect of a twenty-four year old computer engineer.

Judging from what I saw and the missing area behind the closed door in the hallway, I guessed the whole place was probably close to three thousand square feet - only about double the size of my rented house in the suburbs, but that was the end of any comparison between my modest rental and this place.

I didn't have to guess that there was something going on in Ophelia's life I wasn't aware of.

I didn't even hear my sister come up behind me. I was watching the sunrise creep slowly down the high-rise buildings downtown.

"It's the best part of this place, isn't it?" she whispered.

I lowered my gaze to the floor before I turned to her, and quickly scanned her body from her bare feet to her freckled face.

Her legs were covered by thick, black leggings, and from just above her knees up was a loose black and brown patterned sweater. Neither garment revealed much of what I already knew was a gorgeous body underneath.

"Almost," I replied.

"Yeah," she told me before lowering herself to her knees, then she reached forward and untied one of my sneakers.

"But you don't know about the real best part," she giggled.

When she tried to lift my foot to pull my shoe off, I needed to steady myself, and the closest thing was the top of her head.

She raised her eyes to mine, and grinned.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"No, no... It's fine. Don't fall.

She pulled my shoe off, then my sock without looking away from my face.

I was struggling to breathe normally because of the awkward juxtaposition, but when I lowered my bare foot to the floor I suddenly knew what she was talking about, and why she wanted my shoes off.

And why she hadn't had anything on her feet the entire time I had been there.

The marble floor beneath me was warm to the touch, maybe even toasty.

"Oh!" I exclaimed.

"The heating system is all in the floor, through the entire place! Isn't it heavenly?"

She didn't seem to mind at all that my hand was still resting on the top of her head, so I toed my other shoe off and she quickly pulled that sock off.

"Damn, that feels good, Ophelia," I moaned.

I felt my cheeks redden when her smile grew and her green eyes twinkled up at me.

I quickly stepped back and extended my hand to help her up.

Her grip tightened when she felt my hand relax to let go of hers once she was standing.

"Your apartment is amazing, Ophelia. How...um, who..." I stumbled, not knowing how to ask without sounding meddling, or intrusive, or accusatory of something I hoped with all my being wasn't going on.

She released my hand and turned away.

"I can't tell you, And."

"No." I ordered her. "You can tell me. I'm your brother, so I won't judge you."

She turned to face me. I didn't expect the sly, half grin she wore instead of an expression of humiliation at being found out.

"You pinky swear not to judge me?"

Before I left for college, it seemed the little girl Ophelia was constantly asking for pinky swears that I refused to give her.

"Pinky swear," I replied in the same firm tone I used to demand she come clean.

She held up her hand, pinky finger extended toward me, and grinned.

I readily hooked her finger with mine and jiggled it.

She just smiled at me.

"So?" I asked her.

Her smile faded and she turned her back on me again.

"I can't tell you..."

"So the pinky swear was insincere?" I groaned.

She spun to face me, and there was fire in her eyes.

"Pinky swear is the most solemn of promises...I mean besides saying 'I love you' to somebody...but they're never insincere!"

Her eyes bore into mine for a second before she started laughing.

"They are, that's true, but you just didn't let me finish.

"I can't tell you until I get permission to tell you from my partners."

"My God, Ophelia. How many partners does it take to get a place like this?" I all but screamed at her.

She really laughed then. I thought for sure she would choke.

"Business partners, And. Business partners, not the other kind.

"I can't find anybody willing to buy me dinner. No way I could get this condo on my looks."

"I'd buy you dinner. Fuck, I'd buy you this condo, if I could."

I didn't mean to say all that, or any of it really. She was gorgeous enough to make me want to, but she's my sister.

"Language, And. Please?"

I felt my face blush from the reprimand. I had almost forgotten how strictly our parents had raised us, and without thinking, assumed my sister had as little concern for their morals now as I did.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"I don't really care that much, but I just think that as smart as you are, you could come up with a way to say something without using crass language. You're...we're better... smarter than that."

I nodded my agreement. She was right.

"Who are your partners then?"

"If I tell you this one thing, do you promise that you'll keep it all to yourself and then follow the NDA I give you tomorrow?"

"Okay, Ophelia."

This was feeling a little ludicrous, to be honest.

She was living in this gorgeous place a mile in the sky, driving a car I would never be able to afford, and now being so secretive, like it was national security or something.

"We, me and my partners, own the company you work for."

She looked me hard in the eyes before she leaned closer as if to tell me even more of a secret.

"I didn't know you worked for us until yesterday, so I had to get my partners to sign off on keeping you. We have a policy against nepotism."

She smiled up at me before continuing.

"Turns out, one of them has a brother that works there already, so they couldn't very well get rid of you.

"The thing is, we have the policy, so nobody can know we're brother and sister."

"I can pretend I don't know you at work," I acquiesced quickly. I didn't want to lose my job.

"Too late. Jenn and Trudy already asked how I know you. I mean even an idiot would know after I screamed at you like that and threw my drink in your face."

"What then? They're the only ones that can know?"

"I had to improvise. At work, you're my boyfriend now. We'll be fine as long as nobody catches us in the supply closet."

I was surprised at how serious she was.

"There's no policy against fraternization, just nepotism. My partners are fine with the boyfriend story, but in general we don't like employees having sex with each other at work, even if they are brother and sister."

There was that mischievous grin again.

I shook my head.

"Jenn and Trudy were so jealous, so don't rub it in with them."

I really laughed at the idea they'd be jealous of her being with me. It should be more sympathy for her than anything.

"I'm serious. They both said if only they were single...but they have each other.

"I'm a very possessive woman, so, sorry And, my girlfriends don't get to have a go with you."

"Both of them say they're bi, but they've been with each other since before I met them, so I don't know for sure."

"Girlfriends?" I asked.

She never talked about guys. All she had talked about were Jenn and Trudy. Her hair style had already put the thought in my head.

Ophelia's eyes narrowed at me.

"Et tu, Brute?"

"What?" I asked.

"That's from..."

"I know what it's from and I know what it means," I laughed. "I just don't know what you mean by it."

"You're gonna say my haircut makes me look lesbian."

"Well, now that you mention it, I do kind of see that."

"Liar!" she screeched, then laughed hard.

"My beautiful hair...I miss it so much," she moaned. "I thought it would be cute...cuter, not just cuter than it is, but cuter than it was when it was long.

"I was so wrong, but it's too late to go back now."

"But are you?" I interrupted her whining.

"Cuter?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. Lesbian."

"Right now I'm so wishing I hadn't just given you a lecture on the f word, cause I'd so be saying it to you," she laughed.

"I'm not judging, Ophelia. Not that it's anything to judge about. I'm just asking."

"And, there are plenty of very pretty, feminine lesbians. Just 'cause I have a boy haircut and am a bit homely doesn't mean I'm one," my sister continued to defend herself.

"Fuck, Ophelia."

She scowled at me and started to object to my language.

"I get to cuss if you get to say how ugly you imagine you are."

"Fine, And. I won't talk about how ugly I am, even if that makes me feel less ugly, as long as it makes you feel better," she huffed at me.

"The fact that you have so many talents that you don't need to depend on your looks to survive doesn't mean you're not beautiful enough to survive on your looks," I countered.

I don't know why I felt the need to make her understand she's not ugly. Not just not ugly, but she's beautiful. I wanted her to enjoy that as much as I did.

She looked like she wanted to respond, but couldn't find the right words.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, And," she finally came up with something.

"Yeah. It just makes me sad that my sister thinks she's ugly when she's so hot, but let's not fight about it."

Ophelia was blushing when she nodded her head in agreement.

"And sometimes it's the beer holder."

I wanted to take the attention off her since she was obviously uncomfortable with her brother saying she's hot.

"That's just a terrible thing to say," she told me with a scowl.

"But I know it's true," she said as she allowed a real smile to spread across her face.

Then she hugged me so tight I could barely breathe.

"You're the first man I almost believe when he tells me I'm...I'm not ugly," Ophelia whispered in my ear.

"Your do is super cute, on you," I reassured her.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, standing in her living room in a tight embrace, but I relished every second of it.

"I'm such a brat," she giggled, then sniffled and wiped her eyes when she stepped back from me.

"I wasted four years without you because I couldn't just call to say I'm sorry and I miss you."

"That wasn't your..." I started, but Ophelia didn't let me finish absolving her of the blame.

I didn't know if she really blamed herself for our estrangement or was just trying to make me feel less guilty for treating her badly.

"Oh, I'm so rude, too!" she exclaimed as she grabbed my hand again.

The softness of her skin pressed against mine as our fingers wove together felt like silk, like nothing had ever touched her skin to leave even the slightest scuff on the surface.

"Let me give you the two dollar tour."

"But I want the five dollar tour," I objected with a chuckle.

""Oh, And...the five dollar tour would mean showing you things I've never shown anyone before..."

My kid sister really was funny sometimes. I laughed, but her expression confused me. I could see a blush rise on her cheeks under her wealth of freckles.

"Well, someday, I want the five dollar tour. Okay?" I pressed her.

Her blush reddened more before she spoke.

"When I'm sure you can handle it, you'll be the first to know."

Something told me she and I weren't talking about the same thing, but she didn't give me time to figure out what she was talking about.

"This is the living room, dining room, kitchen..." she started, pointing out the obvious sections as she led me around.

"Breakfast room, and the coup de gras..." she announced, pointing out across the breakfast table to the balcony beyond the glass from our position in the kitchen.

"Ophelia... Your refrigerator is empty. Do you eat?"

"You looked in here?" She laughed and gestured at her refrigerator door.

"And here," I tapped her freezer door.

"Ah ha, you discovered my sinful indiscretion."

Her hand was still tightly intertwined with mine, and she pulled me close to whisper in my ear.

"Maybe later we can share a trip to the Dark Side."

She giggled and pulled me toward the balcony. When we almost reached the glass wall, she turned toward the corner and I discovered a closed door I hadn't seen in my earlier exploration.

The room behind the door ran the breadth of the main room, but was only about eight feet wide.

Immediately inside there was a small, mini-fridge on a counter. Each side of the room was lined with shelves filled with jars, bottles, boxes, cans, and bags.

"I told you, I don't cook. I warm up. There's plenty of pasta, organic, healthy sauces, soups, and stuff. Anything that is good for you and can come in a jar or box or whatever. As long as it doesn't take more cooking than a microwave, I probably have some.

"In here, the leftover of the fresh fruit I had delivered this morning for my breakfast," she explained as she quickly opened, then closed the mini-fridge.

I caught a glimpse of a plate of the remains of some strawberries and blueberries.

At the far end of the room I saw a shiny washer and dryer below a shelf of laundry supplies.

"Whatever problems I do have, an eating disorder isn't one of them. Maybe I eat too healthy. Is that a problem?"

"Not with me, unless I decide to hold it against you that you fed me your bacon and eggs while you ate strawberries," I corrected her.

"You're my brother, And. You can hold anything against me you want.

"Did you like my bacon and eggs?"

I couldn't look her in the eyes.

"I've had better," I mumbled my attempt at détente.

She laughed and squeezed my hand.

"Now I know you don't just say things to be nice."

She gave me a tour of the balcony while I stayed between her and the glass, and she tried to assure me I'd get used to being eighteen stories in the air.

She hadn't released my hand as she led me down the hallway, past the spare bedrooms and bathroom.

The door that had been closed, last I saw it, was now open. Inside the giant room was a large, unmade bed. The overhead canopy draped in almost transparent lace gave it the appearance of being even larger than it was.

Before my eyes left the bed to wander around the room, I noticed something next to the bed that looked like two stair steps leading up to the mattress.

"The balcony comes all the way around from the other side, so somebody that wanted to spy on me while I sleep could do just that," she giggled before pulling me toward the opposite end of the room.

She led me into the glass, marble, and brass filled bathroom.

Just the glass-walled shower was bigger than my entire bathroom, probably even if you added my bedroom. The bathtub had jets on the inside, and was a third bigger and at least twice as deep as a normal tub.

"Sorry I'm a little bit of a slob, And."

"What are you talking about? This is beautiful."

"My bed isn't made and I have a towel on the floor."

I turned and looked back at her bed.

She did have a point there. Her bed looked like several people had slept there, or maybe just one person that had six arms and legs.

"If that's the worst fault I find in you, I'll be a lucky man."

She stepped closer to me, and I felt the warmth of her thigh against the back of my hand as she held it there.

"I guess I'll have to call the housekeeper," she whispered into my ear. "Do I need them to come everyday to make my bed, pick up my towels, do the laundry, dusting, vacuuming, clean the bathrooms, windows, and kitchen for you to, um...think I'm perfect?"

I just shook my head, sadly.

"You have no idea how annoying people who think they're perfect are to those of us who are."

"Heh... Wait! What?" She half squealed.

I shrugged my shoulders.

She tried to free her hand from mine, but I held on tighter.

"In spite of you being an asshole, I'm going to finish the tour. One more stop."

She led me back through her bedroom, down the hallway to the bedroom with the exercise equipment.

"I use those horrid things three or four days a week, but this..." she released my hand and stepped over to whatever was covered up in the corner.

"This..." she purred, "is my baby."

Her demeanor and body language was suddenly very different. Even in her baggy, oversized sweater, her movements were more than a little sexy.

She turned to face me and leaned back against the object, spread her arms wide behind her across the top, and lifted a bare foot to rest on something under the cover.

"Do you want to watch?" she growled.

I was clueless as to what would happen if I said yes, but gave no thought to saying no, so I nodded my head.

She spun around, pushed the cover off onto the floor with both hands, then looked over her shoulder at me, and smiled.

I had no idea she might own a piano, but a beautifully polished, jet black, baby grand piano was sitting there.

She opened a small part of the top before she ran her lily white hands across the cover over the keys, then opened it.

I was mesmerized by the reflection of her fingers in the polished black wood over the keys. She played what seemed to me to be a perfectly executed scale the length of the keyboard, then back down.

Ophelia half turned toward me and dropped her hands to her lap.

My attention was on the gold lettering over the black and white keys: C. Bechstein. I half wondered who that guy is while she explained the song was supposed to have a band, but hoped I liked it anyway before she turned back to the keys.

I don't know what I expected to hear; I had no idea that she even knew how to play.

She played a few lines, then stopped. There was a hint of country in the base line and rhythm.

"Imagine there's a guitar and drums too."

She didn't look at me, so couldn't have seen my nod before she started over with her song.

Her voice was beautiful. The first few words were in the low range, for a female, but her tone was amazing. She had a beautiful, rough edge that seemed to trail her notes. Her voice wasn't even a little country.

She sounded like a professional pop or jazz singer, and her piano playing was just as professional. She never played the melody like I would have expected, but simply played around the melody as she sang it.

I didn't recognize the song, but was lost in the beauty of her voice as she sang.

When she got to the third verse, her voice cracked a little, and she seemed to struggle.

And my poor heart, it's been so dark

Since you've been gone

After all, you're the one who turns me off

But you're the only one who can turn me back on.

I barely heard the last line, and then she stopped completely.

"Ophelia?" I asked. I thought she was crying, so I put my hand on her shoulder.

"No, And...it's fine."

She cleared her throat and looked at me.

"That song always makes me cry."

She smiled up at me, but I could see that her eyes, behind her red glasses, were rimmed in red too.

"I didn't even know you played the piano, or sang like an angel."

"I started piano lessons the summer before you left...um, went off to college, so of course you didn't notice.

"After...the funeral, I got a job performing at a bar downtown with the house band, so I guess the lessons paid off.

"That was our most requested song, but we always did it at the end of the set because, no matter how many times I've sung that song, I always bawl like a baby."

"It was beautiful, Ophelia. Did you write it?"

She laughed hard then.

"I wish, but no. Not that one."

"Why does it make you cry?"

"Because...." she started, but then hesitated.

"You tricked me into giving you the three dollar tour since you made me sing for you. The answer to your question comes with the five dollar tour."