Happy Valentine's, Baby Sister

I knew what she was hinting at. This time the offer wasn't extended to Ellen at all. Ellen seemed to know it as well, as she turned to look at me, waiting for my reply.

Ellen would be leaving tomorrow. She couldn't therefore really object to a dinner date between me and Karen in the evening. Still I felt stare at me unblinkingly, judging, maybe just hoping.

I sighed.

"Unfortunately, I already have things planned for Valentine's," I told Karen.

"Ok then," she said quietly with a silent nod.

There seemed to be a lump in my throat. I felt awful for Karen. She truly was a wonderful woman but somehow she didn't seem like the woman for me.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. It was terribly sorry.

"It's not a big deal," she lied, trying to force a smile on her thin lips. She looked around her. "This is actually my stop." She nudged her head to her right.

"I'll see you at work, ok?" I asked her, trying to sound friendly when it probably was just making things worse. All kindness after a rejection feels like a spit in the face.

"Will do, bye!"

She hurried off the bus.

- - -

Ellen didn't dare to say word or even look at me until we got home.

After I shut the door to the apartment and taken my coat off, I finally exploded.

"Could you explain to me what the hell that was about?"

I marched into the living room, furious. Ellen merely stood there with a pained expression on her face.

"Well?"

"I just didn't like her," she mumbled.

"And that gives you an excuse to be rude to her? Do you realise how humiliating it must've felt for her?"

Awkwardly she stood still, shifting the weight from one leg to another. She was like a child being lectured. Her behaviour only angered me further.

"Fucking hell. You know, I work with her."

"All the more reason why you shouldn't," she blurted out. It came out like an insult and was followed by an ugly silence, like the words had remained and reproduced themselves as an echo.

"She was merely asking us to join her for a dinner," I said slowly, careful not to lose my temper.

"She was lusting for you!"

"And so what if she was?"

Another silence. She was somehow taken aback by it. Her face was blushed, not with anger, but with embarrassment.

"I don't think you should be dating a woman her age," she said finally.

"She's barely 40."

"She's almost twice your age."

"So what?" I sighed in annoyance. "Why should it matter to you?"

"Because I'm jealous, okay?!"

She was looking at her feet. Despite the volume at which she said it felt like I didn't hear her correctly.

"Jealous?" I repeated.

This time she couldn't even find the energy to say it. She merely nodded, her eyes fixated on her toes.

The quiet of the living room was made more unbearable by the thumbing in my ears.

"What are you jealous of?" I asked her softly. She seemed so far away, on the other side of the room. I took a step closer.

"Don't." She shook head, turning her eyes back on me. Her eyes were wet from fresh tears.

I took another step closer. She didn't back away.

I felt desperate to hold her but I took my time. She was like a frightened animal that could've ran off any moment. I was determined not to allow her run away. Only two more steps.

"Please," I begged of her.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, bitter tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Hey," I reached my hand out and placed it on her cheek, gently whipping away tears away with my thumb. "

It's alright," I found myself saying. Her eyes opened. Her face was only inches away from mine. She blinked as if she was only now seeing me for the first time, seeing the anger having faded off my voice and have been replaced with something else. Something that I knew was hope.

Softly she pressed her lips against mine. I felt her whimper as she leaned closer to me, placing her arms around my neck. She breathed out a silent moan into my mouth, a sign that it had been something that this kiss had been something that she had feared and wished for some time now.

I kissed her back excitedly. First I treated her as if she was made of porcelain but as she got rougher and needier with me, I began to demand more of her as well.

All. I just wanted it all.

She was the first to begin fumbling with my clothes. It was as if I was under some spell. Yet I was conscious through all of it: I was capable of stopping at any moment. I just didn't want to, nor did she.

As I finally had her bare-chested on my bed, my mouth fed on her. The taste of her was sweeter than any girl I had tasted. The forbidden fruit, I thought to myself with bitter irony.

She didn't object to anything I wanted. I was to do with her as I wanted as long as it meant that I was hers. Nothing else seemed to matter. It was like a perfectly choreographed dance that we had been practicing in our heads for years and years. It was finally the time to perform.

What I remember best of it is the heat of her, how she felt like a hot bath on a winter day as I finally dipped into her. I know she was moaning my name, I could still see her lips moving. More than once I remembered how wrong this was of us, how neither of us shouldn't be doing this. But we just didn't care.

I truly loved her. I always had.

- - -

When we finally woke up the following morning, I just felt sore. It was the good kind of sore, the one that reminded you of being alive. Her brown mess of a hair was spread across my chest.

"Good morning," she smiled shyly as I stirred.

There was something adorable in the insecurity that she displayed. As if I had now sobered and come to regret it all.

"Happy Valentine's day," I beamed and kiss her.

"Oh," she grinned.

"I got you chocolates."

She looked at me uncertainly. "Really?"

"Yeah. They're in the kitchen behind the coffee packets."

"Are you asking me to be your Valentine?" she asked me playfully.

"I am."

"You think, I'm that easy?"

"I see you need some more convincing," I laughed as I pinned her against the mattress. I planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

"Would that do?" I teased her.

"Not quite," she said defiantly.

"How about," I go on to kiss down her chest, lovingly sucking at her pink nipples, "this?"

"I'm afraid not," she says with a cunning smile.

I lower myself down between her legs, my eyes feasting on the plump lips of her pussy. She looks down at me, a lustful look in her eyes.

"How about..."