Mouse Bk. 04 Ch. 01

Melanie glared at her in anger and shock. "And you'd go to prison."

"Exactly. We'd go to prison, Michael and I, your brother and sister, both. So. You. Can't. Do. Anything." Ha, Mouse thought, ha and ha. My turn to over-punctuate again.

"Alright, I need a drink." Melanie said in quick retreat, standing abruptly to tower over Mouse. She looked so much like Michael, Mouse thought. They both towered over her diminutive frame. They both had such serious, forceful, angular cuts to their jaws. Somehow, though, where Michael, the "masculine" one, was soft and inviting, Melanie, the "feminine" one, was instead stern and dominating. And judgmental. And controlling.

"I need some time to think this through," Melanie continued. "But I want you to stay away from him... that way."

Mouse glared at her in silence.

"Just for a while. I promise. Just while I think. A truce, please. Please."

Melanie must have sensed her own weakness, if she'd switched so quickly to reasoning and pleading with Mouse. Melanie didn't wait for an answer. She knew, and Mouse knew, that Mouse would do whatever Mouse pleased. Melanie could only hope she'd cooperate. By leaving the request unanswered, it at least gave the illusion that Melanie was in control.

Melanie turned, walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, thereby signaling to Mouse that it was time to leave, and she could let herself out.

<8 Girl Talk

It didn't take long for Mouse to realize that she needed to say more. She still needed to talk with her sister. She felt the need to explain things, yes, but she also needed to talk. For six long months the only one she could talk to was Michael, and that didn't count, not for this. Having her big sister to talk with meant a lot.

Mouse hadn't gotten more than a few blocks away when she took out her cell phone to call Melanie.

"What, Mouse? What?" Her voice was cold and bitter.

"Look, I need to talk some more. Girl to girl. Sister to sister. But not big sister to little sister, not to get lectured. I really just need someone to talk to, to think out loud. No one else knows. I haven't been able to talk to anyone but Michael. I'd really like to talk about it."

There was long pause, while Melanie silently battled her own reluctance to deal with the situation. But this, Mouse knew, would ultimately be what she wanted, to get Mouse to be rational and reconsider her actions. To get Mouse to think logically, like Melanie.

"When?" Melanie asked.

"Now? Want to go for a drink?"

"In the middle of the day?" Melanie made it sound unheard of.

"You said you needed a drink. Okay, tonight then. It will keep me away from Michael this evening."

"Deal," Melanie said, a little too quickly. "I'll pick you up at 8:00."

"Fine, good. Thanks, Melanie," Mouse said.

"Bye."

"Okay, tonight. Bye."

Yeah, that will keep me away from Michael, Mouse thought. Until around midnight when I come home and ride my brother like an insatiable whore. In fact, I'll even keep him up and ride him twice, just to make a point. Take that, Big Sister.

* * *

Melanie was prompt and Mouse was late, of course. Neither of them spoke much in the car. Melanie picked out a small, almost noisy bar, one where they didn't have to shout over blaring music about her sister's horrid secret, but also one where the buzz of other conversations in the bar would mask their own exchange. If they kept it cordial, that was.

Mouse was smart enough to dress down for the occasion. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a size-too-large t-shirt, one baggy enough to hide her figure's natural sex appeal. She didn't put much effort into fixing her hair. She didn't wear any makeup.

She knew she needed to make the right impression, to be the ordinary kid sister, just another woman looking for advice about a man. And anyway, the last thing she wanted was to have some guy hitting on her tonight in front of Melanie. Or ever, she thought happily to herself.

They got a table, one of those small, high, intimate round ones that you could stand beside, or sit at on a stool, but that kept you close together. They sat.

Before Mouse could say anything, Melanie cut her off.

"I need a drink first. Not just get one, but to finish one. I know that I'm going to want to be at least buzzed before I start to listen to this any more." She looked off even before she'd finished speaking, waving down a waitress. "I can't believe I'm here, or that this is happening, or that I'm willing to listen to you talk about this." She put her head in her hands, covering her eyes. "Ewww. Ewww, ewww and ewww, And ick."

The words sounded silly coming from sober, mature, intelligent Melanie, Mouse thought, but that in itself highlighted her attitude about this like a marquee. Now playing, "Ewww, Ewww and Ick, starring Mouse and Michael."

When the waitress arrived they both ordered large margaritas. Good, Mouse thought. Getting her drunk, getting them both drunk, was good. Melanie was making things easier already.

Mouse followed Melanie's lead, to a degree. She couldn't simply keep quiet, but she stuck with small talk. The drinks arrived soon enough. She discussed her fashion career, and life in Chicago, and her dance classes. She told some short, funny stories, loosening Melanie up, changing the mood.

She talked about Michael playing basketball again. Mouse mentioned that she had joined a league herself, to learn how to play, and that Michael was taking dance lessons, too. He was doing it for her, for Mouse, but she left that part unspoken. Melanie got the point, though.

Melanie was ordering their third round when she took Mouse by surprise by delving into the situation again herself.

"This is going to be so gross. Dan is going to wonder why I'm coming home drunk tonight. He'll really wonder when I won't let him touch me, too, when I shrink away and curl up in a fetal position on the other side of the bed." Melanie giggled.

Hm, Mouse thought. Gross, but with a giggle. The drinks the place served were strong, but still...

"How late did you say we'd be out?" Mouse asked.

Melanie made eye contact. "Late. I told him it was beyond girl talk, that it was long overdue sister talk. He gave me a look like he didn't want to know, and said have fun, and don't be stupid and don't drive if you can't. As if I ever would."

"So he doesn't know?"

"Agh, no, he doesn't know," Melanie snapped back, looking away. "You were right about that, I can't tell him or anyone. The best I can do is to try to convince you that you're the sickest person I've ever met, and that you're ruining both of your lives." She looked down into the depths of her drink.

"So if you didn't know, why was I there this morning? What was 'the talk' supposed to be about?" Mouse asked. The curiosity had been festering in her all day.

"I thought you were just trying to get him to move to Chicago, to try to live his life the way you live yours. To pretend he was a college kid again."

"That's it? We had to have a private, serious chat just because you're afraid I'd steal him from you?"

"It wouldn't be stealing! He's not 'mine' and you know it, you're just twisting this to try to be the victim."

"Look, I'm sorry," Mouse said, quickly changing tone. "This whole thing just caught me off guard." Mouse looked into the distance.

"Caught you off guard? How the hell do you think I feel? Shit, honey, I'll show you 'off guard'."

"I wish you could see us, together," Mouse mumbled into her drink, hardly believing she'd said it out loud, or knowing why.

"Ewwww. Ewww, ewww and ewww."

"Stop it."

"No. You stop. Ewwww," Melanie repeated, then took a long drink as if washing the taste of the conversation from her mouth. "Shit."

"I'm sorry, it's just..." Mouse trailed off, staring out across the bar before looking back into Melanie's eyes. "It's just so good. I know I can't explain it in words, but it is. It feels right."

"It's not. It's the exact opposite of right. It's so not-right it makes me sick. Ewwww."

Clearly losing ground, Mouse went quiet for a while. When she spoke again, she had changed the subject back to small talk, waiting to get a little, no, a lot more liquor into her sister before trying again.

* * *

Many drinks later, very many strong drinks later, and definitely feeling the effects herself, Mouse tried a different approach. She started critiquing the men in the bar, making fun of their looks or their expressions, making up stories about which men wanted which women, or, for an extra laugh, which men wanted which other men. She was turning the conversation first to sex and then to her and Michael, instead of going the other way. It would be less abrupt, especially if she could get Melanie at least a little turned on.

Eventually Mouse started to graphically describe the imagined cock sizes and shapes for every man in the bar. To her relief Melanie went laughingly along with it. It was private, drunken, sister to sister male abuse, always a good foundation to work from. They were sitting side by side now, shoulder to shoulder, almost cheek to cheek, giggling conspiratorially.

"I don't think there's a single decent sized cock in this room," Mouse commented after having disparagingly portrayed every guy in the place.

"No, you're right. I definitely have better waiting at home for me," Melanie replied, with a sly sidelong glance at Mouse.

"No." Mouse drew the word out. "Really? He's hung? Dan is hung?" Mouse let her mouth hang open theatrically.

"Not amazingly, no, but it definitely keeps me happy. And he doesn't kiss too badly, though not as much or as well as I'd like. I have my share of orgasms, though."

Share of, Mouse thought to herself. So she's not entirely happy with it. She'd be jealous as hell if she knew what Michael did for her. She wouldn't question this for a second if she knew what Michael did for Mouse.

"I hate to say it, but I doubt he's hung like mine." Mouse carefully avoided saying "Michael".

Melanie stared, her eyes a bit wide and unfocused. She didn't try to change the topic of conversation.

"I mean, he's not that big, either, but big enough, even considering how big he is all over. It's more than that, though. It's got this cute little upward bend in it when it's hard, like a banana," Mouse said giggling. She waited a moment for an "Ewwww" that never came. After the imagine-their-cocks game the two had just played, this went over easily enough with her sister. "It's thick enough to really spread you, you know? Not so it hurts, but so you feel like you're at your limit. And it's hard. A lot of guys with big cocks, their cocks don't really get hard, you know?"

"Mmm hmm" Melanie answered, as if she did know. Mouse wondered if Dan was like that.

"Not his," Mouse said, still afraid to use Michael's name and remind Melanie that they were discussing their own brother.

Melanie looked at the bridge of Mouse's nose, seemingly lost in thought. Mouse caught a whiff of her perfume. It was musky, a masculine scent for a woman, but it was good for Melanie. She wore it well. Mouse's own was more floral, and she wondered if Melanie noticed it, too.

Mouse glanced down to where Melanie had already loosened her blouse in the hot bar. She caught a glimpse of attractive, bare flesh just above the edge of the bra. The sight sent a totally unexpected thrill through her. That's the alcohol taking over, she thought to herself. They'd both already had way too much.

Melanie was looking off into nowhere, lost in thought, too. And obviously feeling swimmingly drunk, as well.

"What really gets me is the heat of it, though," Mouse added softly.

Melanie's eyes shot to hers, drawn back into the conversation. Her eyes moved slowly, gently around Mouse's face, from spot to spot, as if studying her intently for a picture she was going to paint. Her eyes stopped on Mouse's lips and stayed there, watching her mouth with a sudden intensity as Mouse continued with her description.

"I mean, when I hold it in my hand, I always think I must feel like ice to him, because it's so hot in my fingers, you know?"

Melanie nodded slightly in agreement, much in the way that Mouse had done the first night Michael had kissed her, when she was too afraid to speak or move or interrupt him, when she knew she had lost control of herself. Mouse began now to sway gently to the music in the background, adding an erotic rhythm to their conversation. Melanie's eyes slowly danced with her, following her motion from side to side.

"And it's not just hot in my hand," she moved on, entering dangerous waters. "When it slides inside of me the heat is amazing."

Mouse paused to read Melanie's expression, but Melanie was still focused on her lips. It made Mouse a bit uncomfortable, but she felt the urge to touch her sister. She put her hand on Melanie's back, tracing a slow, soft line up across her satiny blouse, up her shoulder blade. Melanie didn't react to the touch at first. After a moment, seemingly unconsciously, she slid her own hand close to Mouse's free hand on the table.

"That's a part of the whole thing, just that, just how great his cock is. I mean, it's not that important, I know, there are way more important things, but that part is great, right? It makes everything better."

Now Melanie was stroking Mouse's hand with one finger, in slow, short ovals. Mouse tickled Melanie's back as they both leaned a bit closer to each other.

"You really should see us together, you wouldn't believe how neatly we mesh."

Mouse meant it in the most vulgar fashion, but said it in a sweet, romantic turn of phrase and tone, in a fashion that Melanie could handle. It looked to Mouse like her sister was trembling, finding it hard to form words. Melanie took a quick sip from her drink instead, then looked into Mouse's eyes.

Mouse held her silence, letting her eyes do the talking. She let them grow wide, with a hint of fear and eagerness. She let them both share a moment of distant, barely recognizable and unfulfilled lust. Mouse wasn't sure if it was for men in general, for sex in general, for their brother, or for each other. She doubted that Melanie knew, either.

Both of their sets of fingers slowed their pace but continued, Mouse tracing lines on Melanie's shoulder, Melanie tracing circles on Mouse's fingers. Their faces drifted even closer together, so Mouse could feel Melanie's breath on her lips, and she knew Melanie could feel the same from her. Melanie's eyes fell down again to look at Mouse's mouth. Mouse made a small show of licking her lips once, quickly, moistening them.

She consciously did that when she wanted to get a man to try to kiss her. It always worked.

"I think I could watch," Melanie said huskily, almost passing the words straight from her mouth into Mouse's. "I want to watch."

Mouse almost froze in shock. She recovered quickly, before she could transfer her tension to Melanie. She opened the fingers of her hand on the table to smoothly entwine them with Melanie's.

"I'd like that," Mouse whispered back. They had both had way too much to drink. She couldn't believe where this was leading, how quickly this had all careened well out of anyone's control. She had some ideas where this might end, and she wondered if this was going to turn out to be a really, really big mistake.

* * *

As Mouse came into the house, she was hit with another surprise. The lights were off. The entire den had been filled with flickering candles, at least two dozen, bathing the room in a soft, warm, dancing, orange glow.

Michael was waiting for her, sitting in the recliner, completely naked, with half a drink in his hand.

It was very romantic, except for a harsher yellow light that barged in from the kitchen doorway, an oversight Michael had obviously made when getting himself his drink. It was very sweet, though, Mouse thought to herself, even if he did make that small mistake. She could forgive him easily. Very easily.

Mouse came to him and stood before him, her feet flush together. She admired him for a bit, then bent over, keeping her knees locked and legs straight as she often did, so her ass would thrust out behind her, even though there was no one on that side this time to admire it. She planted two quick kisses on her bother's cock, then let her lips linger there, unmoving, with her eyes closed. She knew she'd ruin everything if she simply got started now, so she willed herself up and away. Michael lowered his drink to rest on the floor beside him.

"I'll be back," she said, backing off toward the kitchen. "Don't move. I just need a drink of water. Then a drink of you," she said, laughing.

As soon as she entered the kitchen she hit the light switch, turning it off. She scurried over to the sliding door to let Melanie in.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Melanie hissed drunkenly. The night air had sobered her a bit. She sounded more in control.

"Ssssssh," was Mouse's immediate, almost interrupting response. Mouse grabbed a bottle of tequila from the kitchen counter and pushed it into Melanie's hands.

"Here," she whispered, "you'll need this."

She took Melanie by the hand, tugging her toward a vantage point at the door between the kitchen and the den. Melanie squeezed Mouse's hand as soon as they touched, seemingly more interested in the contact than their purpose in the house. Mouse liked that.

Mona peeked around the corner, to be sure Michael wasn't looking. His eyes seemed to be closed, as he leaned far back in the recliner. The chair back was turned partially toward them, so the top of his bald head gleamed at them in the candle light. He'd have to twist around to even have a chance of seeing Melanie.

Damn, Mouse thought. She wanted her to see his face when we fuck. Maybe she could get him to change positions later. If she remembered.

The entire image itself was enchanting, so much so that she almost wished it were going to be her doing the watching. Michael's house was large, and the den was gigantic, with a cathedral ceiling, a large fireplace, a sunken area, and a long staircase along one wall climbing up to an open balcony-style hallway.

The candles burned everywhere, gathered mostly around Michael and the couch, on the coffee table and side tables and on the floor, throwing small shimmering puddles of light here and there. Tiny shadows danced all around like scurrying mice. The high ceiling was almost lost in darkness, as were the walls, set so far from the candles in his expansive den.

He'd placed some candles on the mantle of the fireplace, and on the brick floor around it. Michael had lit a small fire that had since burned out, leaving behind only black logs glowing with streaks of eery, supernatural red. The fireplace looked like another world, in the distance beyond where he sat, separated by a patch of dark gloom. To the other side, almost lost in shadow itself, the bannister of the stairs climbed up into complete darkness, like a portal to yet another, darker world.

Mouse put a single upraised finger to her lips one last time in a pointless signal to Melanie to stay silent. Her sister stood there wide eyed, grappling with fear at what they were doing, but equally entranced by the romantic stage set before her, and by the liquor still clouding her mind. Mouse grabbed and opened the bottle for Melanie and pushed it up towards her mouth. Melanie readily gulped in a large swig, after taking the bottle back in one hand as Mouse pushed the cap into her other. Then little sister stepped slowly and sensuously out into the dim light of the room to stand before her brother – and her big sister.

* * *

Mouse had wanted to start with a slow, erotic strip tease, but was afraid that if she took too long Melanie's courage would fade and she'd sneak out the back. She doubted that Melanie's mild, suppressed lesbian tendencies would lead her to lust after her little sister's body for long, if at all, all by itself. So instead Mouse quickly pulled her boots off, her top up and off, her jeans and panties down, and was undoing her bra all within a few breaths.