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"What happened then?" Em asks quietly.

"She went down on me," I say, shivering slightly at the memory. "Lets say she was skilled and leave it there. I came hard, lost count of the number of times. Then she put a finger in me and I saw God."

"Jesus, that's hot."

"At some point she stripped. Her pussy was bare. She tasted delicious. She'd worked out I was inexperienced and taught me a bit. She was a moaner. I loved licking and sucking her."

Em sighs. "Being licked is lovely."

I try hard to ignore her proximity. but it's difficult; her calves are warm on my thighs and I can hear her breathing. She shifts a bit, and I begin to suspect she's also uncomfortable.

"So, my turn to ask details then," I say.

"Damn, I was enjoying the description," Em says with a pout. "Fair is fair though."

"What does a penis feel like, when it's in you?"

Em's eyes open wide, and she says nothing for a short while. "I forget, sometimes," she apologises.

"Forget?" I ask.

"I sleep with girls too, Bella, just not often. I forget you're not bi."

"Wait, backtrack," I say, unable to believe my ears.

"Nuh uh," Em laughs. "You asked something already, so I get to answer. So. How to describe a cock to you. Firstly... I guess the most surprising thing is that it's hard but soft at the same time. It spreads me but doesn't hurt... Unless I'm dry. So not like a dildo, unless you've got a softer rubber one. With me so far?"

"Uh huh," I manage.

"Ok. So, I'm hot. Dripping. Engorged lips, breasts, you name it. You must get that ache deep in your belly, sometimes, right?"

I simply nod, not trusting myself to speak as I listen, rapt.

"Add the head of a hard cock and its worse. I physically need it. That first centimeter of penetration, as my lips spread over him... God, Bella, I can't describe it. And then... The feeling as his shaft slips into me, until his balls are nestled against me...." Em shivers. "The heat of it, the pressure inside, the way it bends to fit me properly, the way it presses against my clit and inner lips... Fuck, you can't better that. I don't think anything can."

I shiver slightly, then shift. Em takes her legs off my thighs. I shoot her a look. She's flushed.

"Fresh air?" I ask her.

"Definitely. I'm overheating," she says with a laugh, as she squirms slightly on the bench.

"In linens and a vest?" I tease her.

"Different kind of heat," she says, softly, dropping her eyes.

I say nothing, because there's nothing safe to say. Instead I open the hatch and stick my head out. It is now noticeably darker and I am glad we are tied up where we are.

"Oi," Em says, slapping me on the bum. I clamber back below where she presents me with a recharged glass and a wide smile.

"Getting me drunk so you can take advantage of me, I see," I tease her.

"Would it work?" she asks, amused.

"I'm a cheap date," I answer,shrugging.

"Hot girls are never cheap," she says sadly.

"Oh, Em," I protest.

"What, Bella? It's the truth. You're a complete sex pot."

"Not half as hot as you are," I respond automatically. I'm blessed with the brief spectacle of Emma being rendered speechless before my ears catch up with my mouth. I shake my head and start to frame an apology as the blush of embarrassment crawls its way up my throat.

"Em, I..."

Emma reaches out, silencing me with a fingertip to my lips. She takes my wineglass and sets it aside, then wraps her arms around me and just holds me.

"You've always been my best cheerleader," she says, after a while. "Thank you, Bella."

"Forgiven?" I ask.

"What's to forgive?" she asks with a smile. "I love honest compliments."

"In that case, your hugs are awesome too."

She squeezes me, then returns my wine to me. "Still overheating," she mutters. She pauses, and then reaches down and in a single fluid motion pulls off her vest, leaving just her bikini top in place. I try not to stare, but the small smile stays on her lips.

"I don't mind you looking, you know," she says softly.

"Sorry?" I stammer, taken aback.

"I like when you watch me the way you do. I enjoy the honesty of it. I know you've been watching me all day. It doesn't bug me at all. I just wanted to tell you you don't have to hide it."

"I can't help it," I murmur. "You fit my type. It's unconscious for me."

She smiles a small smile and slips in behind the saloon table again. Her nipples are now unmistakably erect, plainly visible through the sheer fabric of her top. I try not to stare, unnerved slightly by the smile and the way her eyes seem to have darkened.

"I'm a closet exhibitionist," she says, arching her back slightly. "I like to be appreciated. By select people. You're one of them."

"Even though I'm your sister?"

"Especially since. I can trust you with my secrets."

"True," I say. "Snitches get stitches after all."

"Plus... the taboo aspect makes it hotter," she purrs. "Now... tell me what you'll give me if I take my bikini top off."

"Um..."

"Isabel," Emma sighs. "I'm extremely sexually frustrated. We're having some harmless fun, to while away the time, and then we can lock ourselves in our cabins and work it out before supper. Or at least, that's my plan."

I fight down the mental image of Emma playing with herself. "It's a good plan," I offer nonchalantly. "I will probably try it too."

"So, then, stop being a killjoy and offer me a trade for this, " she says, as she runs a teasing finger down between her breasts.

On a whim, I pull off my tee-shirt, then slip a finger under my sports bra and lift it slightly. "Cleavage?" I offer.

"Done," says Emma, as she reaches around to undo her top. I pull my sports bra off and over my head, then straighten and watch her as she slowly peels herself free. Her perfect pale breasts are as I remember them; delicious in a way that makes me want to nuzzle, touch, taste. Sublime. Her stomach is flat, defined, and there's only the slightest hint of spare weight around her waist. I slip in next to her at the table and lean back, stomach slightly butterfly-ridden.

"God, you're delicious," I say quietly, admiringly, as I feel the hot demanding ache building steadily between my legs.

She quirks an eyebrow and grins. "I could get used to the compliments, Bella."

"If I were dating someone with boobs like yours I'd never leave home."

"Yours are pretty special too, missy," she responds huskily.

"Pity nobody wants mine," I lament, glancing ruefully downwards at myself and pouting.

Em coughs. I eye her. "What?" I ask, suspiciously.

"I want to ask you something, Bella. But you have to promise to keep it private."

"Who'm I going to tell?" I ask, waving a hand. "Just the two of us here."

"Promise," she says, leaning forward intently.

"I promise," I say, slightly distracted by how her breasts swing as she moves.

"What if I told you that I had a crush on someone?"

"Someone?" I ask.

"A girl someone," she says, dropping her gaze.

"I'd say whoever it was was a lucky woman," I reply, trying to hide the dismay I feel. "Very lucky."

"Why?" she asks, reaching out to touch my knee.

"Because. Because, if I could have someone as loyal and loving as you, I'd never have to be afraid of being alone. I'd never have to fear waking up fifty and single, staring at the Reaper. I'd never be without someone to talk to, someone to hold me when it's dark and scary outside. Someone who'd let me love her no matter what..."

The alcohol in my system has clearly weakened my walls, because I suddenly realise that I have tears tracking their way down my cheeks. I scrub angrily at them as I turn my face aside to try to hide my moment of weakness, to try to force down the sadness so that it can't ruin the moment.

I fail.

"Oh, Bella," Em sighs sadly. I hear her put her glass aside. I feel her clamber up onto the bench so she can grab me and drag me into a fierce embrace. I feel the hot breath she sighs out against me as she squeezes me against her.

I feel all these things, but they are grey phantasms against the black bitter ache of the loneliness I sob out quietly into the crook of her neck.

"I fucking hate this," I whisper eventually, hoarse and drained. "I hate being weak and alone. I hate having nobody to share with. Nobody to do this for me. To hold me. To be there when it's all grey."

"Why didn't you say something to me, Bella? Jesus, if you're hurting this much you have to tell me so I can help you."

"You can't help with this. You have your own life to live. I need to make peace with mine."

She holds me, silent for a while. Then she sighs and lets me go. I wipe my eyes and sniff, ashamed of my weakness. Em gently strokes my neck and shoulders, letting me calm down at my own pace.

"Time for supper?" she asks, after a while.

"Sorry I killed the mood," I offer, softly, scrubbing at my eyes.

"Your happiness is more important to me than sexy stories," she replies as she pulls her top back on. "Never forget that, Bella. No matter what, you are worth more than anything else to me."

"Thanks, Em," I whisper.

"Come on," she says, "put your clothes on and let's go eat something. My treat."

I summon a weak smile, stand, pull on my vest and a fleece, scrub my eyes once more, and clamber up into the cockpit after her.

--

I listlessly move my chips around my plate, listening to the storm building outside. We're sitting in a quiet corner near the fire. The view outside is bleak, punctuated by the large but still infrequent drops of rain which spatter against the window. Emma sits quietly next to me, polishing off the last of her pasta verde and shooting me occasional, unreadable looks.

I pick up my wine, a reasonable Chilean white, and take another sip. Truth be told I'm not feeling particularly hungry, but experience informs me that I'll regret not finishing my meal... probably at three in the morning, knowing my luck.

I sigh, and Em leans in to bump her shoulder hard against mine. "Eat your food, Bella," she says.

"Not hungry," I complain, but I comply anyway, finishing off a few more of my chips. The sporadic blat-blat of rain on the glass fits my mood.

I feel strangely bleak and flat, and this bugs me more than normal. I guess it's something to do with the various revelations Emma has made today: that she's been with girls, that she's currently crushing on one, and that she's never told me any of this before. I guess I feel a little excluded, and my current downer is a manifestation of sulkiness. I sigh again.

"Don't make me spank you," Em warns. "Buck up, buttercup."

I snort, but can't help smiling briefly. Em gets fiercely protective of me at times, and it makes me feel safe and warm to know she's there, to know that she cares.

I sit up slightly straighter as the waiter comes by, and order a creme brulee and a refill of my wine. Em orders some sticky toffee pudding and an espresso, and smiles a quick thanks at the waiter as he clears our mains and cutlery away. Then she, too, leans backwards, and reaches out to wrap her left arm around me, pulling me hard in against her.

"You're not allowed to bottle your emotions up from me, Bella" she says, quietly.

"I can't help it, it's a hard habit to break," I murmur. "Years of practice to undo."

"You have to talk to someone. I'm available to listen, if you want to talk."

"I know," I answer. "And you need to know how much I appreciate that... how much I appreciate you. But... I can't talk about it right now or I'll end up bawling again. Can we talk about something else instead? Just for now? Please?"

"Ok, for now then," she accedes.

Moderately awkward silence descends, and I grapple around for a safe topic.

"Where would you go in the world, right now, if you had no constraints?" I ask.

She leans back. "Greece, I think. Or, at least, somewhere warm with blue water and white sand. I need a long, quiet lurk on a beach somewhere, away from phones and people."

"We could do it, you know," I offer, hesitantly.

Emma smiles at me. "You could. I, alas, have bills to pay and employees to look after."

"I'm sure they wouldn't miss you for two weeks, Emma. When was the last time you took a holiday?"

"Too long ago, Bella."

"If I bought you a ticket, would you come?"

"Mm... I suppose I could be persuaded. But it will cost you."

"I'll pay the price gladly if it means some quality time with you."

"I will hold you to that, Bella. But my turn now. Where would you go? You have the ability but you don't seem to have the drive."

I sigh. "Iceland," I answer. "I would go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. But I get lonely by myself, which is why I don't go."

Emma blesses me with an indulgent smile. "I've also always wanted to see the Aurorae. Book the tickets and I'll book the leave."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart," she answers seriously, doing the same. I can't help but watch her finger as it trails over her breast. She grins slightly as she notices. "Seems your mood is improving again."

"It's the prospect of spending more time with you," I answer softly.

Her grin fades, and she reaches out to run her fingers through my hair, but says nothing. Our dessert arrives, and Emma tucks into hers with relish; she has always had a sweet tooth. I, meanwhile, sip my wine and fantasise about her and I and the various places I'd love to drag her. Then I take a mouthful of creme brulee, and try to devote to it the attention it merits.

Rain beads on the glass, wind howls through the rigging of boats, and Emma's leg is warm against mine. I could almost be content were it not for the heavy stone of loneliness in my chest.

I drink, and then just for a change I drink some more.

--

"God's teeth, this wind!" shrieks Em as we stagger out through the front door of the pub and into the biting gale.

"Hurry, we're going to get soaked if we loiter out here," I yell. I take her hand, and we jog unsteadily down the pier and out onto the pontoons. The wood is slippery and we have one or two near-catastrophes, but we make it back to Indigo without falling or drowning ourselves. Em hops around in desperation as I fumble the keys in my chilled hands.

"Jesus Christ!" I swear in frustration as I finally manage to get the hatchway open. We hurriedly bundle ourselves downstairs into the hot muggy twilight of the saloon, and I yank the companionway hatch closed behind us. Rain spatters on the outside of Indigo's hull, and she shimmies at her moorings in the wind and swell.

"Wow," says Emma, breathlessly.

"Yeah. It's a hooligan," I answer, bracing myself as a gust blows through.

"Thank God we came in when we did," she says as she peels off her waterproof jacket and pulls her damp hair out of her face. She kicks her boat shoes off and I do the same.

"We timed it perfectly," I agree, and I peel off my socks and scoot them into a corner for the morning. I turn up the heating and strip out of my own jacket, hanging it on a handrail to the side of the cabin ladder. Then I stand, shivering briefly, rubbing my arms. "It's got bloody freezing all of a sudden."

"Yeah. Pity yachts don't have fireplaces," says Emma.

"I could always buy one that does," I muse, "but I think it would ruin me."

"We'll just have to make do with the heater then, I guess. Tea or coffee?" she asks, turning to the stove.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Ok, can do," she answers, and starts rummaging in a locker.

I duck through into my cabin and grab a towel, and dry off my face, legs and hair while Em turns on the stove. I lean against the cabin wall, watching her as she moves in the soft twilight provided by the cabin downlights, her raven hair wildly tangled and the flush of wind-burn on her cheeks.

"Here," I say, handing her the towel, and she briskly dries her own face and legs, then bends to peel off her socks.

I can't help myself.

"Emma?"

"Mm?" she answers, distractedly.

"Do you actually realise how sexy you are?"

She straightens and turns to me, surprised. "What do you mean, Bella?"

"I mean... do you realise the effect you have on people? Just by being you?"

I step closer to her and reach out, heart thumping, to stroke her cheek as she stands watching me. She shivers slightly. Her eyes are dark and I find them unreadable.

"I guess you must," I muse. "There's no way you couldn't. I mean, I see it in the way you dress, the way you walk... you must be aware of yourself, and how people react to you."

Em smiles slightly at that, and leans back against the counter, watching me. She gives me a small half-shrug, before raising her left hand to cover mine, holding my palm against her cheek.

"I am. And I confess I abuse it. Sometimes."

"God, I wish I could be like you," I sigh, leaning against the saloon bench back.

"You are, Bella," she answers, softly. "You just don't know how to use your powers for evil like I do when it comes to sex. You're thin, lithe, gorgeous. You're intelligent, and generous to a fault. You're gorgeous. You're caring. You're loving. Have I mentioned that you're gorgeous?"

I snort, and she grins at me before continuing. "I'm actually glad you're who you are. You could be a total ladykiller and instead you're just.... you. And I love you for it," she quietly adds, as she slides her hand down my forearm and arm to circle around and cup my shoulder.

I feel something akin to sparks of electricity crawling in the trail of her fingertips, and I take a shuddering breath as I struggle to meet her suddenly intent gaze.

"Isabel," she says, gently.

"Em?"

"How drunk are you?"

"Somewhere between very and excessively", I answer.

"Uh huh." She leans closer. My heart thumps hard in my chest.

"You?" I ask, nervously.

"Same. Maybe slightly less, unless you factor in exhaustion from this week."

She takes a deliberate half-step towards me, and trails her left hand (achingly slowly) down to the small of my back, where she pauses.

"Em..." I whisper, breathlessly.

"Shh," she answers, as she closes the remaining distance.

I feel her gently cup the back of my neck, and she presses herself against me. All I can see is her eyes, dark, glinting with the faint light of the saloon lamps. All I can smell is the scent of her damp hair, touched by the faint underlying spice of her perfume. All I can feel is her body, both firm and soft, pressed against me.

All these things, though, fade to the background as her lips touch mine.

--

How does one describe a kiss from the person to whom you are closest in the world?

Words just don't seem sufficient to properly describe the fire that runs through me, the tingling on my skin, the desperate moan that escapes me as Emma drives herself hard against me, a thigh spreading mine, breasts firm against my own, hand grasping me, trapping me, preventing me from escaping... even if I wanted to.

I don't want that. I want her. Desperately.

--

An entire age of the world seems to pass before I come back to myself, staring into Emma's dark eyes, panting.

"Fuck me," I whisper, unthinkingly.

Emma laughs at that. Flustered, I shake my head, before an attack of giggles takes me. Emma wraps her arms around me, holding me tight, as we both shake with giddy, girlish laughter.

"Nice?" Em manages after a while.

"So nice. So, so nice," I whimper, writhing slightly while I enjoy the sensation of her thigh still pressed between mine. "Wrong, but so nice."

"Wrong how?"

"You're my sister, Em."

"So?"

"So," I answer, "society says that what we just did is wrong. Immoral. Like what you're doing to me now."

"Do I look immoral?" she asks, smiling, as she gently presses her thigh harder against me.

"Very," I groan.

"Good," she responds, releasing me, trailing her arms down to my shoulders. She arches herself backwards, holding on to me, and lets her head loll back as she uses me as support. Then she pulls herself back upright and shoots me an amused smile.