Sister Golden Hair

"It's a warm day and we're beside water," I explained.

"Yeah, but they don't usually come out like this until the spring at the earliest!"

I shrugged. "Maybe they heard that the great and wonderful Jet Orion was back in town and decided they just had to come out and have a taste," I teased.

"Shut-up," he said as his hands flailed about around him, failing to make contact with the rogue insect.

"Well, they aren't bothering me right now," I lied as I discreetly swatted at my arm.

"There!" he said in victory as he slapped his forehead and crushed another bug. He flung it to the ground aggressively, stomped on it a couple of times, then spat on it. "Was it worth it, bitch?" he asked in a mock-gangster sort of way.

"Umm...Jet?" a woman said all of a sudden as if appearing out of nowhere in front of us. We both looked up and saw her standing there with a young boy of about 8 years old with her.

"Oh, uh...hi Mrs. Newton," Jet said awkwardly as he looked at them and blushed. "I was just, um...bugs."

"Nice job, role model," I whispered to him from the side of my mouth.

To the woman's credit, she didn't seem too bothered. "I'm sorry to disturb you," she began, "and I know you must get this all the time, but my son Cole here is quite the fan. Could you possibly sign something for him?"

"Sure!" Jet replied. "But...I don't actually have a pen or marker with me. Do you?"

"Oh shoot, I sure don't," the woman replied. I glanced at the boy and saw his face drop with disappointment.

"Just take a picture with him, Jet," I suggested.

"Oh, could you!?" the woman asked hopefully. "I promise I won't post it anywhere online or anything. I know how famous people tend to hate that." I should have won a medal, both for the brilliant suggestion and for keeping my eyes from rolling far into the back of my head at the mention of my brother being a "famous person".

"Of course I'll take a picture with him!" Jet beamed. "And you can post it anywhere you want to."

"Oh thank you!" the lady said as she fished her phone out of her pocket. Jet squatted on the ground so that he was more level with the boy and smiled at the camera. Surprisingly, I felt my heart gush with pride watching my brother interact with this little boy. It must have been one of the greatest moments of this kid's life, and I was very proud of Jet for making that happen for him.

"Thanks again!" the woman said after she took the picture. "Do you...do you think I could have a picture, too?" she asked, clearly embarrassed but equally hopeful.

"Um, sure," Jet replied as he glanced at me. I smiled at him in a teasing sort of way as I took her phone and snapped several pictures of the two of them, each one with Mrs. Newton seemingly getting closer and more handsy with my brother.

"Put your arm around her and pull her in close!" I suggested. Mrs. Newton beamed as Jet glared at me and awkwardly pulled her closer to him. She rested her hand softly on his chest and smiled brightly as I snapped a couple more pictures.

"Thank you so much!" she said once again as I handed her back her phone. "With Cole's father being away at work so much, it's just nice for him to have a positive male presence around. So, uh...if you're ever in the area, feel free to stop by my house at the corner of Maple and Elm. Like I said, Mr. Newton isn't home much." She gave Jet a not so subtle wink, grabbed her son by the hand, and continued walking.

"That was-" Jet began.

"-awesome!" I finished for him.

"Yeah, thanks a lot for that!" he said as he shoved me again.

"Oh please, like you didn't enjoy it on some level," I teased. "Besides, Mrs. Newton isn't too terrible looking, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well nonetheless, I think I'll pass on the opportunity to make a cuckold out of poor Mr. Newton."

We laughed and walked along some more.

"Is that weird for you?" Jet asked after a bit.

"What? Seeing you get hit on?"

"No. Seeing people approach me and ask for autographs and pictures and shit."

"Oh. Yeah, a little I guess."

"I hate it. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's really cool being able to make a little boy's day like that, but all that attention is really annoying to me."

"I guess I can understand that," I said. "Honestly it's one of the things that I hated about you for so long." Jet looked at me with a slightly hurt expression. "But not anymore!" I continued, assuring him. "I see now that you aren't just some conceited prick basking in the glory of fame and fortune. You're just my humble brother who's trying to figure out life just like the rest of us. It gives you depth. And honestly it makes me like you all the more."

Out of nowhere, Jet put his arm around me. "That truly means a lot coming from you," he said. The weight of his strong arm felt good around my shoulders. In that moment I felt a physical comfort from another human being that I hadn't felt in years, since the days of sneaking into Jet's bed at night as a child.

"Alright, alright," I said, wriggling free from his half-hug. As comforted as I was by his touch, the intense vulnerability I felt made me squirm. "Don't get all handsy with me now." I looked up at him and smiled. "Don't move!" I said suddenly, coming to a stop.

"What!?" he replied as he came to a stop himself.

"There are two bugs on your head," I whispered, bringing my arms up slowly. "One on the top of your head, one at the back. I'm gonna get them. Stay still."

Jet didn't move as I slowly brought my hands up close to his head. In a flash, I slapped him hard with both hands at the imaginary bugs.

"Ow!" he groaned, rubbing his head where I had hit him.

"Missed!" I said playfully. "Sorry!"

He eyed me suspiciously. "Was there actually anything there?" he asked.

"Of course!" I said slyly.

We stared at each other for a second, Jet clearly not convinced.

"C'mon, let's go," I said, hooking my arm into his and continuing our walk. I had to admit to myself that I was ecstatic to have my brother back with me. Not just physically this time, either. He was truly back with me in my soul.

*****

"So do they HAVE to be brother and sister?" I typed as I sat in my room that night. I had just started off with what would be a long conversation with Irish.

"Uhh...kind of the point, Toxic Sunshine," he replied.

"I mean, it's cool you wanting to explore new things like this, but don't you wanna take it a little slower entering into this world? Like maybe make them...I don't know, step-siblings instead?"

"I truly thought about that at first. But in the end I decided what I really want is a full fledged brother-sister story. Just straight up two people with the same biological parents."

I shuddered. I had been thinking about it for a while, but just couldn't wrap my head around the whole biological siblings thing. In the end, however, I decided that even though the story would never ultimately do it for me, it was best just to support Irish and hope that his next story be a little more up my alley.

"Fine," I conceded. "Okay, so let's talk about this title then," I continued.

"What's wrong with the title?" Irish typed back to me.

"Are you serious right now? Tell me you're not serious right now."

"I. Am. Serious. Right. Now."

"You wanna call your story "Rimming My Sister?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Look, I'll concede that the story is made better with much more vulgar language than what I'm accustomed to seeing from you in your previous stories. But does the title have to get straight to the point like that?"

"People want that!"

"No they don't! They want character development, story buildup...not a story whose title gives away the ultimate destination!"

"Sounds like that's what you want, Toxic Sunshine."

"Well, as 17% of your readers, I'd think that my input would be of high value to you."

He waited a bit before typing back to me. "Fine, maybe the title can be adjusted a tad. What did you have in mind?"

"Sister Golden Hair," I wrote back.

"That permutation of words doesn't make sense," Irish said.

"Sure it does! You know, like the song?"

"Song?"

"It's the name of a song by America!"

"The U.S.A.?"

"No, the band."

"I'm confused.

"Just look up the goddamn song and tell me when you're done."

A few minutes later, he wrote back. "Okay yeah, I know that song. Pretty good song. I had no idea it was called that. I especially didn't know there was a band who calls themselves 'America'."

"Well, there you go."

"But why would I call my story that?"

"It's perfect! The Brenda chick in your story has golden blonde hair. You specifically mention that at one point. And then there's the whole sister thing, of course."

"You really think that title is better than what I had?"

"Do I think that title is better than 'Eating My Sister's Asshole'? God yes, Irish."

"Alright fine, I'll give you that one," he admitted. "What other feedback do you have for me?"

"I think you made Greg and Brenda hook up way too soon. I'm not saying that you need some long, drawn out process of them getting to that point, but it should take longer than just a few paragraphs. It's just not very realistic that they go from platonic to fucking in a matter of minutes."

"Again, I think some of my readers will appreciate that," he wrote back.

"Some would, sure. But I think you'll simply get a better response from most if you draw it out a LITTLE more."

"Hmm...you may be right."

"Duh, of course I'm right! Girls are always right." I realized my error as soon I sent the message, but it was too late.

"I knew it!" Irish typed back. "I knew I had to be talking to a girl this whole time!"

"Yeah, yeah, cat's outta the bag now, I guess," I replied. "So now you know I'm one of, like, 4 billion people. You're well on your way to knowing my true identity.

"Probably more like 2 billion people," he replied. "I can eliminate babies and toddlers and shit. Not likely you're a nun, either. Oh yeah, and fingerless chicks."

"...fingerless?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't be able to type with no fingers."

"How many fingerless girls have you ever met?"

"Umm...none. But surely they exist somewhere, right?"

"You're right. There's probably a whole society of fingerless females somewhere out there. Unfortunately, since there do exist devices that write out your words as you simply speak them, you have to still consider the possibility that I'm fingerless."

"Shit. Good point."

We talked a little more after that. I gave him some ideas about ways to draw out the plot a little more and develop his characters, and he was mostly receptive. Without me realizing it, it got to be really late.

"Alright man, it's almost midnight and I've got to get to bed," I said to him finally.

"Ah-ha!" he typed back suddenly.

"What?"

"You're in the eastern time zone!"

"Oh goddammit," I replied, hating myself for making yet another error.

"I am too, fyi," he shared.

"I thought we agreed that we wanted to remain as anonymous as possible," I typed.

"I do, but it's still fun, in like a naughty way, slowly figuring out these little details about you. It's like I wanna know who you are, but don't. Does that make sense?"

"Nope. Now goodnight."

I set my phone down and crawled out of bed. I had to pee and get a little water before sleep.

After my bathroom trip, I went into the kitchen and was surprised to see Jet sitting at the table with a bowl of watermelon chunks.

"Oh hey," I said simply as I grabbed a cup out of the cabinet.

"Uhh...hey," he said, sounding weird.

"You always up this late?" I asked.

"Yeah. Just trying to keep on the same sleep schedule I have during the season. Uh, Candy?"

"Hmm?" I asked as I sat across from him.

"You know you're in your underwear, right?" he asked, averting his gaze from me.

"Oh shit!" I replied, not wanting to move now that I was concealed by the table. "Not used to having you home...sorry dude."

"That's alright. At least you're wearing a t-shirt."

"True."

"I must ask, though. Do you usually walk around in your panties when I'm not here? I mean, our parents live here too."

"Only late at night. Besides, you know them, in bed by 9:00."

"I thought you were usually in bed early too."

"Typically, although sometimes I stay up as late as 10:00 or 10:30 even."

"You wild thing, you. So what are you doing up this late tonight?"

"Meh, just can't sleep, I guess."

"Wanna watch The Andy Griffith Show?" he asked.

"That seems pretty wholesome for 12:00 at night."

"How about The Brady Bunch then?"

"That's more like it," I said with a laugh. "But, uh...can you close your eyes and let me go to the living room first? I'm gonna get under a blanket."

"Why don't you just go back to your room and put on some damn pants?"

"Too much work."

"Makes sense."

While Jet covered his eyes, I trotted into the living room. "Okay, you can come in now!" I called as I got cozy under a blanket.

Jet ended up sitting on the opposite end of the couch as me. As we watched, I thought back to earlier in the day when he had briefly put his arm around me. I enjoyed the feeling of comfort that I got from that, and found myself wanting that feeling again, all the while being very careful given the fact that I was in my underwear and had just finished a long internet conversation with a stranger about sibling sex.

I decided to stretch out on the sofa, in the process plopping my feet, which barely poked out of the end of the blanket, into Jet's lap. He cut his eyes at me. I just shrugged and turned my attention back to the show, thankful that he seemed okay with what I had done.

The slight warmth that I felt from his leg onto my feet scratched the comfort itch that I had, and I was satisfied. To my surprise, however, Jet laid his hand softly on my ankle. At first I thought he was going to throw my feet off of him, but he just put his hand there and kept it still. It was a little odd, but it felt good. I let myself relax under the comfort of his touch and before I knew what had happened, my eyelids closed and I was fast asleep.

*****

I woke up the next morning surprised to see that I was in my bed. I didn't have any memory of actually walking to bed, but then again I had been so sleepy that I figured I had just forgotten.

I went out to the kitchen after I got dressed to find my mom and Jet sitting at the table having breakfast.

"Morning sweetie," my mom said to me as I sat down in front of a plate of waffles.

"Hey Mom," I replied simply as I grabbed the maple syrup. I hadn't been my usual rude self to her lately. In fact, I had been borderline nice to her. She smiled at me and squeezed my arm gently as she went to her bedroom to get Dad out of bed.

"You two seem to be getting along well," Jet said to me between bites.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I blame you for that, you know."

"Oh really?"

"There's definitely a correlation between your return and our improving relationship."

"Oh, well...you're welcome? And also, you're welcome for last night."

I looked at him sideways. "Last night?"

"For getting you into bed, I mean."

"That was you?"

"Did you think the Easter Bunny carried you to bed?"

"No...just figured I sleep-walked there or something."

"Nope. That was me."

"Oh." I thought about it for a minute, then had to ask. "You didn't, you know...see anything, did you?"

"You mean your little panties?" he asked with a smile.

"Ew, don't call them that!"

"Sorry. And no, I didn't. You were wrapped in the blanket the whole time. Once I laid you down, I pulled your own blanket on top of you and fished the other one out."

"Okay, good," I said, feeling relieved. I found that I was very touchy about the whole brother-sister thing ever since my escapades into incest erotica.

"You've got school today, right?" he asked me.

"Nope!" I replied happily. "Teacher workday."

"Oh sweet. Wanna hang out?"

"Sure," I said, feeling very excited at the prospect of spending more time with Jet. At that moment, however, Dad came into the kitchen with very different plans.

"Hey kids!" he said with excitement. I turned to look at him and saw that he was wearing a football jersey with a 4 on it, navy blue with gold and white trim. His face was marked with black paint under his eyes. He looked like a complete jackass.

"Hey Dad," Jet said. The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was palpable.

"So...?" Dad said, looking from the football in his hand back to Jet over and over.

"You wanna throw, Dad?" Jet asked finally.

"Sure!" he replied.

With my back to Dad, I made eye contact with Jet and smiled in a teasing sort of way at him. I was bummed at losing some time together with him, but the little sister in me was pleased to see a situation come along that annoyed the crap out of him.

Jet glared at me briefly then turned back to Dad. "Actually, it's funny," he began, looking at me briefly with a smirk. "Candy and I were JUST talking about going outside and throwing the ball around like we used to."

"Uhh, I never-"

"It was her idea even!" he continued, cutting me off. "We both agreed that it would be just about the most fun either of us could ever have!"

I aimed a kick at Jet's leg under the table but missed, banging my toe against the table leg instead.

"That's wonderful, Candy!" Dad exclaimed as he leaned forward and kissed the top of my head. "I'll be the center; Jet will be the quarterback, of course; and Candy will be your receiver! Just like old times!"

With that, Dad grabbed a waffle to-go and headed outside.

"You fucker," I said to Jet as we both stood up from the table.

"Consider us even now after the double head slap you gave me yesterday on the trail," he teased.

"I hate you."

"Yeah, let's go team!" Jet said with enthusiasm as he slapped me on my butt and bolted out the door.

"Mother fuckin' football," I groaned as I sulked out the door behind him.

On the field, I found myself foolishly huddled in a three-person group with my dad and Jet.

"Do we really have to huddle up like this?" I complained. "There's only three of us, and no one else is around to hear us."

"Just play along, will you Candy?" Dad said.

"And what's with the navy blue jersey, Dad?" I asked. "I thought the Lions were light blue."

"They are. This is Jet's college jersey. Don't you remember?"

"Shnope."

"Alright Candy," Dad continued, "you line up as the X-receiver."

"The fuck?"

"Just...line up way over there," he said, pointing far away from the ball. "You'll run a simple slant route. Remember what a slant route is?"

"God help me, I do," I replied.

"Great. Now Jet, there's gonna be a linebacker blitzing up the middle."

"From where!?" I asked, looking around at the empty field.

"I'll hold him off as long as I can," Dad continued, ignoring my comment, "but you'll have to get rid of the ball pretty fast. Got it?"

"Got it, Dad," Jet said with a nod.

"I feel so stupid right now," I groaned as I buried my face in my hand.

"Alright, I'll hike the ball on three," Dad instructed. "Let's go Fighting Irish!"

My feet were frozen to the ground as Dad and Jet took their spots behind the ball.

"Come on Candy, let's go!" Dad demanded.

I turned slowly to look at him. "What did you say, Dad?" I asked softly.

"Come on, Candy. I said you're running a slant route. It's super simple. Just run up a little, then turn and run at a 'slant' in front of the ball. Get it? 'Slant'?"

"No, I mean when you broke the huddle," I said. "You said 'let's go'...who?"

"Oh, Fighting Irish," Dad said nonchalantly. "Oh come on, don't tell me you've completely forgotten everything about Jet's college playing days, have you? The Notre Dame Fighting Irish? Ring a bell? Now go line up before the play clock runs out!"

I mindlessly walked over to my spot far away from Dad and Jet and stood there, waiting to hear my Dad give the cue that the ball was snapped. My mind whirled around with a fog of thoughts, none of which were concrete enough to make out. In the far distance somewhere I heard a "three", and as if transported back to my childhood, my instincts kicked in and I took off at a run. A few yards into my route I turned to the right at a 45 degree angle and ran hard, as if running away from a stupidly annoying thought that was chasing behind me. I turned my focus towards the ball, but instead of finding the football, my eyes locked into my Dad. He was standing there like an idiot pretending to block the invisible defenders that were coming for his son, a giant number 4 standing out blaringly on his torso. My eyes were fixed on that 4 as the echoes of "Fighting Irish" ran through my head.