Solace in Emma's Room

Mom was saying, "Tony, do you think you can help Emma with the garden while you're here? We made it bigger last year, and it's going to be harder to get it all tilled and ready to plant."

"Sure, Mom," I said. "Emma, you want to work on it tomorrow? It's supposed to be nice out. You're off from school this week, right?"

"Yes, school's out this week," she replied. "Be good to get outside and do something. It was a long winter here."

The garden had been Emma's project, inspired by one of her Scout activities. Mom and Dad would help with it, but she kept them away for the most part: they worked enough as it was, and the supply of fresh vegetables her plot provided all summer was her contribution to the family.

A little hard work would be a good distraction from my various troubles.

After dinner we played board games. Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit, both staples of years gone by. Old rivalries were rekindled; Emma and Janie went after each other pretty hard, with lots of teasing and inside jokes. Janie won at Monopoly; we all teased her, telling her she would grow up to be a tycoon and rob the rest of the country blind. No one, however, could beat me at Trivial Pursuit. I told them it was natural; the name of the game was itself a synonym for a college education. This got the biggest laugh of the evening.

When the games were exhausted, it was almost ten. I excused myself and went up to my room. I connected up the old antenna that ran out to the maple tree and switched on the Grundig to see what might be out there tonight.

I remembered listening years ago when the shortwave bands had more stations that told a story about their countries, with their local news, music, and culture. There was propaganda, for sure, but there were also voices with a sincere positive message, showing the best of what each country had to offer. Now those voices were fewer, as country after country cut back or shut down its national external broadcast service. With the Internet, who needs it? was the rationale. But that left the bands open for ever more political and religious propaganda. In the latter category, one ranting nutcase in particular seemed to be on the air every hour of the day and night, on some frequency in every band, and sometimes more than one. The last time I had listened he had been raving about "blood moons", and their supposed prophetic meaning. It sounded like something out of the middle ages. Dude, we call those "eclipses" these days, and they are quite well understood.

I tuned across the bands, as always hoping to hear something different—new or distant or interesting. It was still possible, sometimes. It was why I was still listening. Finally I found Radio Romania International, broadcasting a folk music program. A good soundtrack for putting the world on hold for an hour.

Around eleven-thirty I shut off the radio and thought about going to bed. I hit the bathroom, came back and started to undress.

There was a knock on my door. "Tony?" It was Emma.

"Just a minute." I put my shirt back on and opened the door.

She was in a short white satin nightgown that seemed to have nothing underneath it but her. The sight of her almost made me gasp, she was such a vision of sexiness. Her breasts moved beneath the gown like ghostly shapes, made visible by the way the fabric flowed over them. It flowed in the same way over the curve of her hips. I was struck silent for a panicked second.

"Hi, sis," I finally got out.

"Hi," she said. "I just wanted to say thanks again for the talk this afternoon. I feel much better now. I guess whatever happens is going to happen, and I'll make the best of it. So you made a difference. Oh, and I'm going to be more careful whose car I get into. That part was foolish, I know. Anyway. Can I give you a hug?"

"Sure," I said, and held out my arms, half excited and half full of dread.

She flowed into my arms and pressed herself against me as her arms circled my neck. I prayed—to whatever I still prayed to in moments like this—that the swelling in my groin would not be noticed. I felt the desire for her go through me like an injection into a vein as I held her.

"You're the best, Tony," she said, letting her hands slip down to my shoulders as she leaned back. "Oh, no tongue tonight, okay?" She got up on tiptoes and gave me one of her quick kisses. She giggled and slipped out of my embrace.

"'Night, Tony," she said, grinning.

"'Night, Emma. Pleasant dreams."

It took a long time to get to sleep.

It was the kind of spring day that started off cool but promised to be sticky by noon. Emma's garden plot was now twenty feet by fifteen, and would need to be tilled and mulched. It was still several weeks until planting was safe from frost, but getting it done early made planning and planting much more pleasant. And I was there to help now, so it would be done now.

Emma and I spent an hour clearing off and hauling away all the sticks, twigs, and leaves that had accumulated over the fall and winter. We both wore cutoff jeans, but while I had a t-shirt Emma wore a tank top, and not a very loose one. Just another part of my punishment. Go ahead world, rub my nose in it. Her bare legs, smooth and shapely but strong, were another nail in my coffin.

"What's going to happen with this next year?" I asked her. "You're not going to want to be here over spring break, are you? Or at least not be obligated to be here?"

"I don't know. I hope maybe Janie can take it over if I'm not here."

"I don't know if I can be here either. Who knows what's going to happen a year from now. Dad can't handle tilling this big a plot. I don't want him to try, anyway."

"I guess if nothing else works out we'll hire it done."

At this point it was time to get the rototiller from the garden shed. I filled the gas tank from the can and checked the oil level. Dad had been able to till up the plot when it was maybe two-thirds this size. But that was just about his comfortable limit, and I was not going to see him taxed any more than that. I could handle it, at least this year.

It was fifteen minutes of fairly unpleasant work, but when it was done, it was done for the year.

Now for the mulch. Emma always got it from the recycling center, which had an enormous pile of wood chips, free for the taking. She had already borrowed the neighbors' pickup truck. It would take about three loads to cover the garden.

We agreed I should drive. We got into the cab and I started out. This would be a good chance to try to figure out what was going on with her.

"So, Emma," I began, "Since we're alone here, would you mind if I asked you a question or two about what we talked about before? Just so I have a better picture in case you need help?"

"No, that's fine," she said. "You already know the big stuff, no point in holding back now."

"Okay, that girl, the one you got turned on by, was she the only one? Do you usually look at women and say, 'I like that one'?"

"No, she was the only one so far, but it was pretty strong. I mean, she was hot looking, dressed really sexy, and she was flirting with me out in the open. It just did a number on me. I guess it made me think for the first time about...you know, being with a woman."

"But that doesn't happen often now, or at all?"

"No, it doesn't. I just need the right combination, I guess. It's like with guys. I still like them, you know. But I don't want to climb into the pants of every one I see. It has to be the right person."

"Not like me, then," I said. "I don't know if I'm representative of all men, but I can imagine doing it with just about any woman I see, if she's at all attractive. It could get me in all sorts of trouble if I didn't just ignore it most of the time."

"Any woman? What about age? How young do you go?" She was asking the questions now.

"Well, this is where the trouble comes in. Too young is too young, but my eyes can't tell who is definitely over eighteen and who is just under. So the ones in the gray area and below have to be ignored extra hard."

"But you do like them younger than you?"

"Hey sis, you're talking like I'm an old man or something. If I'm not going to be married anymore, I'm going to have to play the field. Now, I do prefer an emotionally mature person, but that's a separate thing from age."

"Yeah, I hear you there. You know, I thought you and Dianna looked good together, but after what you told us yesterday, I think she didn't deserve you. Not being able to wait three months for you? Come on."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

"Hey, you're my brother. I'm on your side."

We had arrived at the recycling center. I backed up to the wood pile and parked. We got out, I dropped the tailgate and we grabbed the shovels from the bed.

The next two hours were spent in hard work, as we shoveled hundreds of pounds of wood chips into the truck bed, drove home, shoveled them out onto the topsoil of the garden, then drove back to the recycling center for the next load. Emma held her end up, moving as much weight as I was and getting just as sweaty. I paced our work to try not to get exhausted, but we were still too tired after the first load for much more conversation. But I was not too tired to notice how her top plastered itself to her lithe young body when it got wet with sweat, or the trickle that ran down her neck into her cleavage.

After we had unloaded the last truckload of chips, we broke for lunch. Emma made us sandwiches and we sat at the dining room table.

"All we need to do now is spread out the mulch evenly. Not that hard," she said.

"We'll take it easy. Plenty of time now."

"We're a good team. No way I could have done this without you."

"Sure you could. It just would have taken you twice as long."

Another hour later we were done. I told her to take the first turn in the shower, went to my room and closed the door to strip out of my sweaty clothes. I stood there and let the air dry me off and cool me down while listening to the water run in the bathroom next door.

When the water stopped, I put on my robe and waited. Before long she knocked at the door and called, "It's all yours!"

"Thanks," I called back. I stepped out of the room and started to turn to enter the bathroom, but before I got fully around my eyes caught the motion of her walking back to her room. I turned my head back and saw her there, covered only by a poorly-draped towel. The backs of her smooth thighs were fully revealed, all the way up to the lower curve of her butt cheeks. I knew I should look away, but I found it impossible not to stare longingly at those captivating legs.

Then she dropped something on the floor, and bent over to pick it up. Oh my god. The holy of holies was opened up to me. Her tidy little just-legal pussy, plump lips cleared of hair and pouting at me. The neat tuft of fur below on her mound. I was instantly erect.

Quick, don't let her see you looking! I turned back toward the bathroom and went inside just as she closed the door to her bedroom.

I quickly hung up the robe and got into the shower. I looked down at my cock, still fully hard. I had been taught at an early age that lusting after a woman was as bad for my soul as actually having intercourse with her—if not in so many words. So if I were to grab my hard cock and start pumping now, while thinking of her, would that be the moral equivalent of fucking my sister?

Then I stopped myself from this line of thought. I didn't believe any of that nonsense any more, I told myself. Still, it had a certain logic to it. I did not touch myself, but instead turned on the water. My cock started to deflate, slowly.

Then there was a quick knock on the bathroom door.

"Sorry, gotta pee," called Emma.

"Why didn't you go before?"

"I forgot."

"Can't you go downstairs?"

"I'm not dressed. Anyway, I can't see anything, and neither can you."

That was true, but only to a point. The shower door was rain glass, so it was hard to make out any details, but I could tell that she had discarded her towel altogether to sit on the toilet. I got a distorted image of her nude body. I even made out a nipple through one relatively flat area of glass. Who knows what she could see of me.

"Make it quick, then. I'm not staying in here all day."

"Promises, promises."

She was actually teasing me. Flirting with me. A lot of the past day with her started to make sense.

I presumed she peed; I couldn't hear it over the shower noise. I heard the flush, and the shower suddenly went hot as the fill line depleted the cold water pressure. These old houses with their antiquated plumbing.

"Okay, I'm gone."

She picked up her towel, wrapped it around herself, and moved to the door.

"Don't forget to write," I called after her, as the door opened.

I finished, got out and started to towel off. I was going to have to confront her soon, because this had to stop.

Today was Friday. Janie would be going to Scout camp for the weekend. Mom and Dad were going on a date night tonight. Still a loving couple after all these years, bless them. Mom had told me not to expect them until late. I would be able to speak with Emma with total frankness with no chance of being overheard.

I made a light supper for Janie, Emma, and I while our parents prepared to go out.

Janie asked, "What are you guys going to do tonight with the house to yourselves?"

Emma answered. "I'm looking forward to a nice quiet evening, maybe read some or watch some TV."

I nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I have a radio I can tune around."

Soon enough all three had departed and Emma and I were alone.

I waited for a good time to raise the subject. At around eight-thirty Emma was sprawled out across the living room sofa with a book, in a pair of shorts that made her legs go on for miles. It had to be now.

"Emma, can we talk for a bit? I have a question or two for you."

"Sure bro, what do you want to know?" She marked her place and set the book aside.

"Okay, this might be a surprise and sound weird to you, but maybe not, and I need to know. Have you been flirting with me since I've been home?"

"Mmmm, maybe. Tell me what I did that you noticed."

"Well, if you're going to be coy, okay. First you started to kiss me like a boyfriend instead of a brother, yesterday. Then you came to say good night in your nightie, which is very sexy, as I'm sure you know. Then today, you were very interested in whether I liked younger women. Then you flashed me in the hall after your shower. Finally there was the bit with you wanting in the bathroom when I was in the shower. So, sis, what gives?"

"Tony, you know all those things could be totally innocent. Like, yeah, I had an accident with my towel on the way to my room. But it made an impression on you, didn't it? Did it get you all hot and bothered? I think that means my flirting, if that's what it was, paid off. Did it?"

"Okay, you've got me there," I admitted. "I got turned on to you. But Emma, it's not right."

"Who said so? And why should you care? I know the practical reason, but I'm not having any babies with anyone any time soon. I've got these pills that make my periods nice and regular. And you're the one who was always so unconventional and all. You got married outside the Church. That had the folks going in circles for a while, let me tell you."

"They got over it."

"Of course they did. I'm just saying there's no good reason why you should feel bad if you're turned on by me."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Who are you and what have you done with Emma? You know, the one who was so upset just yesterday that she got turned on by another girl?"

She shrugged. "Well, you're very persuasive, my brother. Anyway, we're talking about you and me, who've known each other my whole life, not some girl who I barely knew at all."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Tony, I admit that I've been trying to get you to notice me. You don't know how happy I am that it worked"

My mind was reeling. This couldn't really be happening, could it? Was I imagining her saying those words?

"Look, sis, are you telling me you want me that way?"

She sat up and patted the sofa cushion next to her. I sat down, with some apprehension. Then she replied slowly, keeping her blue eyes on mine.

"Tony, you are the only person who does it for me now. I felt it when you came in the door yesterday. Maybe I've known it for a long time. And you feel it for me too. We have a chance tonight. Why don't we take it? No one will ever know. I think you were telling me something about secrets yesterday."

"We couldn't hide such a thing forever, if it happened."

I was trying to talk her out of this, but it sounded half-hearted even to myself.

"Couldn't we? Tony, I need you. Brad just wanted to get into my pants, I guess. Probably so did what's-her-name. But I know you love me and you wouldn't let me down. I need you to give me what Brad couldn't. I feel like I'm still a virgin. Please, Tony..."

She had put her arm around my shoulders and pulled herself closer to me. Her soft breast was pressed into my side and her lips were next to my ear. She lowered her voice almost to a whisper.

"Please, Tony, love me. Make love to me. I want to feel like a real woman. I've waited so long."

My heart jumped in my chest. Blood was rushing to my sex. Still, I answered slowly, carefully.

"Emma, I love you. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what could happen. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong. Any of them would be terrible for us, maybe the family too—"

"I'm not saying I'm not afraid, too," she said. "But when you want something, need something as much as I do you, it's not so important. I promise you, whatever happens, I will still be your loving sister. You can't lose me. Please, just let me..."

With that she pulled my face to hers and kissed me again, the way she had the day before. Her lips were warm against mine, her breath sweet as they parted and her tongue found mine. This time I returned her passion, driven by the desire that she drew from me.

When we separated, she said softly, "Will you come with me up to my room?"

"Yes," I said.

I followed her up the stairs, watching her hips sway with each step. My heart was pounding now.

We came to her room, stepped inside and closed the door. Instantly I was in her arms, her mouth insistent against mine. I grabbed her waist and pulled her to me. Her breasts were crushed against my chest. I returned her kiss with a heat that I had barely known I had.

When I put my hands to her face and pulled her away, she put out her tongue and licked her lips suggestively. I held her face there and looked directly into her wide-open eyes.

"All right, little sister, you asked for this," I said. "You wanted it. I'm here to give you everything you want and then some. I don't believe in doing things by halves. Now why don't you show me those pretty titties you've been flaunting at me since I got here."

"You'll have to undress me first," she retorted. "That's one of the things I want. Show me how a man does it."

"You've got it."

I let go of her face and went for the top button of her shirt. It came open easily, revealing more creamy skin. The second button parted to show me the tops of her breasts and the crevasse where they were pushed together by her bra.

The third button presented me with the bra itself, a flimsy-looking lace-trimmed number in blue. She had dressed for this occasion, it seemed. I slipped my thumb under its top edge, feeling the soft and springy give of her breast.

"Keep going," she said.

I went faster now. By the sixth button, the shirt was all but undone and I was enjoying the view of her flat, taut midriff. And down there, under the very last button, was her navel, a delightful little button itself.