The Beach House Ch. 02

And at last she saw the rising tide of her lover's passion: the spiral of pleasure that was building, building - the arching of her back and the tightening of her thighs, and she heard the little squeaks and sighs grow longer, until at least she was trembling on the brink. And at that moment she leaned forward and plunged her tongue like an arrow into the open ring of Lucy's anus to trip her over the edge.

The woman screamed and a sudden spray of juice burst from the quivering lips of her cunt to splatter over the girl's arm. 'Oh, God, baby,' she shrieked. 'I'm cumming...I'm cumming! Fuck me deep!' Her head thrashed from side to side and her back arched like an epileptic's. 'Ah Jesus...fuck...yes, yes!' The muscles of her cunt contracted sharply, squeezing Sarah's arm in a vice like grip. She could feel it rippling, a sort of spasmodic clutching as if Lucy was trying to drag her deeper inside, and the ring of her vulva bubbled and oozed with expelled juice.

Sarah waited until the contractions faded. Despite the blanket her knees hurt, and her back ached from the unusual posture. Her hand was still buried in Lucy's cunt but the passion had dissolved, leaving an uncomfortable awareness of how unnatural the act had been. She extracted her hand, watching as the vulva stretched around the heel of her palm, and she saw the spurt of juice expelled as her fingers left Lucy's greasy flesh. She thought she heard a sound behind her and glanced quickly at the window, but there was nothing there and she turned back to the sound of her voice.

'Lie here with me,' Lucy said, and patted the blanket beside her. She lifted the girl's hand to her face and took each finger in her mouth, one at a time, to lick the cream from between them. Cunt juice was delicious, she thought, but only when you could share it with someone else.

'That was lovely,' she said. 'Now, let's talk about another little trick I can teach you.'

*

In the quiet of her office Lucy smiled as she recalled those days. The afternoon on the island had been the best, in the old Beach House, but there had been others, too: wonderful times as she tutored the girl in the ways of love...or ways of lust, anyway. But then it had changed, and the smile slipped from her lips as she remembered.

It had happened a little after their Beach House love-in. Sarah had travelled from Thruxton and they met in a little café not far from their favourite motel. Lucy was there first, as she always was, and she took the little corner table furthest from the door so she could watch the room. It was a quiet afternoon and the café was almost empty when Sarah arrived. She opened the door and stood at the threshold for a few moments before carefully closing it and moving towards her.

She was wearing a red dress very like the one she'd worn on their first date, but the resemblance ended there. The naïve young girl who Lucy had seduced was gone, and in her place was a self-assured young woman threading her way though the tables. Her hair was longer and bleached by the sun, and it reached her shoulders in a pale curtain of iridescent gold that swayed softly as she walked, and she was beautiful.

Lucy rose to her feet. 'Sarah. It's lovely to see you.' She leaned forward to kiss her lips but the girl turned her head to offer her cheek instead.

'Hello Luce.'

'Please - sit. Would you like some tea?'

The girl settled in the chair. 'Thank you, yes.'

Lucy lifted the teapot and poured a cup, adding a dash of milk. She was aware of Sarah's eyes on her and the lack of any smile. 'You're a little late,' she remarked. 'I thought you might not be coming.'

'I said I would. The train was late.'

'I see.' Lucy pushed the cup toward her. 'Sugar?'

'You know I don't.'

'I haven't seen you for a while, Sarah, and people change.' She examined the girl, observing the sun-browned skin, glossy with health and vitality. 'You look very well. What have you being doing with yourself?'

Sarah shrugged. 'Not much, really.'

'Well, whatever it is you've been doing it outdoors, by the look of you.'

'I've been out the Beach House,' the girl said. 'Doing it up.' Her eyes flickered to Lucy's face and the woman saw a faint flush appear on her cheeks. So she remembers too.

'On your own?'

'No...my brother is helping me. He's a tradesman.'

'You should take it easy,' Lucy said, 'it would be hard work carrying all that stuff up to the cottage.'

Sarah shrugged. 'I like it, and it's not like there's a lot else to do in Thruxton.'

'I thought you were studying to be a vet.'

'I am, but it's the long semester break.'

'Right.' She regarded the girl for a moment. 'So how come I haven't seen you for so long?'

The grey eyes flickered to her face and then slid away. 'I told you, I've been busy.'

Lucy smiled grimly. It was clear that something was wrong. 'You told me a moment ago you'd not been doing much,' she said lightly. 'Is something troubling you?'

'What makes you say that?'

Lucy leaned forward and grasped Sarah's arm. 'A month ago we had a pretty special time on your island. Don't you remember?' She waited for an answer but the girl was silent. 'But something's happened, Sarah - something's changed. I'm getting the feeling you're not the same - so I'll ask you again. Is something troubling you?'

Sarah stared into the woman's face. The image of her hand embedded in Lucy's body suddenly popped into her mind. She recalled the odour of her excitement and the groans of pleasure as the woman thrashed in wild orgasm, impaled on her arm. It was something that had occurred on the spur of the moment, something that had turned her on. Lucy was right, it had been a pretty special moment - for her, at least. But what had happened a week later was not. She opened her mouth to answer but Lucy was talking again.

'Surely you're not upset about that other thing, are you?' she said smoothly. She released the girl's arm and sat back, smiling lightly. 'That was just a little misunderstanding, a little tiff. You're not going to hold that against me, are you?'

Sarah remembered the sudden crimp of the leather straps that pinched her wrists and ankles and her fear as she understood what was happening, and the waves of scalpel-sharp pain even though she begged the woman to stop.

'You hurt me,' she said, 'and you didn't stop -'

'But I did! As soon as I saw you really didn't like it.' Lucy laughed lightly, a brief tinkling noise, but her eyes were hard. 'Look - I said I'd teach you and I have. I've showed you lots of things and you owe me, right? And I get that you didn't like that particular gig, but it's no big deal.' She bent to her handbag and extracted her purse. 'So I've booked a room in our usual place, Sarah. Why don't we -'

Sarah stared at her in amazement. Had she really forgotten the tears and the recriminations? It would seem so. On the way here she had been prepared to stay with Lucy again, to try and work through the issues, but suddenly she understood it would never be the same again.

'No,' she said. Her voice was low, but it cut off Lucy's words like a knife.

'What did you say?'

'I said no. I'm not going to the motel, Lucy.'

'But -'

'No! I said no! Which bit of that don't you get?'

Lucy stared at the girl's face. Up to now she had always been passive and this was a new side to her character. The grey eyes were as hard as chips of granite, and the voice carried an authority she had never heard before. A sudden surge of anger seized her and she thrust her face close to Sarah's.

'Listen, you little tramp! I'll decide what we'll do, not you!'

'Really? Like you decided to assault me? That's statutory rape.'

Lucy laughed, an ugly sound without humour. 'I don't think so! You're a consenting adult, Sarah, and you can't prove anything. I, on the other hand -'

'Can do what?' Sarah demanded.

'- can expose you as a little whore who gives sex for money.'

Sarah stared at her. 'What do you mean?'

'Have you forgotten the gifts I sent you? Those little deposits in your bank account? I haven't. I still have the payment slips.'

'They were to buy the things that you wanted me to wear. I don't see how that proves anything.'

'Really? I doubt if others will see it that way. Perhaps you need to have a good hard think about that before you refuse me again - otherwise...' The threat lay on the table for a moment, and then Lucy's voice softened. 'Look - nobody wants to go that way. Let's forget it...come with me now and we can make up, I'm sure.'

Sarah shook her head. 'I don't think so.' She reached for her handbag and stood up. 'When I came in here I was thinking I'd like to talk things through and see if we could stay together, but I don't like threats. You're a control freak, Luce, and I can't live with that.'

'Sit down!'

'No.'

Lucy leapt to her feet. 'You'll regret it if you walk out on me, I promise!' she hissed. 'I can break you. By the time I'm finished you'll crawl on your belly and beg me to take you back.'

Sarah laughed. 'Then do your worst, Lucille Carter-Bayliss,' she said, 'but don't think I'll go down without a fight,' and she turned on her heel and walked from the room.

*

Lucy reached forward and picked up the report again, her mind returning to the present. It had been more than two months since Sarah had gone and although she had tried to contact the girl she had heard nothing. And now she was pregnant, and it was clear from the timing that she had conceived after she had left. A sudden image of Sarah in wild orgasm flooded her mind - her beautiful slim body twitching and her head thrown back and a thin scream of ecstasy bursting from her lips. Lucy had seen it often but this time the figure with her was a man, not her, and she felt her belly twist with loathing and disgust.

And in the quiet of her office the simmering anger she had harboured these past weeks suddenly flared into an incandescent hatred, and she swore an oath to herself that even if it was the last thing she ever did she would make Sarah Jane Ryan suffer.

*****

Michael Ryan steered towards the little spit of rocks off the island, watching as the sand bar passed safely under the keel. It had appeared the day after the wild storm two months ago when the tide and waves had shifted the sea bed.

Sarah was hunched over the forward thwart with her hands clasped over her belly, staring up at the trees where the Beach House was. She couldn't see it yet but she always looked.

'Are you all right, Sis?' he asked.

She turned to him without smiling. 'Absolutely.'

He gestured at the water with one hand. 'That sand bar seems to be getting bigger,' he said. 'Since the storm, I mean.'

Sarah nodded. The storm had changed a lot of things in her life. She remembered the train trip back from Torbess on the same afternoon with her mind plagued by Lucy's venom, and her spontaneous decision to join her brother on the island. The storm had struck half way over the bay and he had saved her life by dragging her from the swirling waters half drowned and frozen. She recalled the warmth of the fire in the little kitchen and moment he had seen her naked, and the expression of raw longing on his face. And she remembered the amazing feel of his body through that long night of pleasure.

The roof of the Beach House appeared behind the copse of trees and she felt a sudden jolt of emotion. She loved this place, but all of the turmoil in her life seemed to have had its roots here. Sarah smiled at the thought. Roots...first Lucy and then her brother. One had filled her life with poison and the other had filled her with...well, life. It was growing in her, getting bigger every day and she knew that people would soon notice.

Michael cut the engine and the boat glided the last few feet to the spit in the sudden silence. She watched as he jumped ashore and secured the painter and she saw his face alight with excitement. 'Come on, Sis,' he said. 'Let's get started.'

He flung open the heavy shutters and the winter sunshine flooded into the cottage. They had whitewashed the walls and laid new flagstones the week before and the interior looked cool and inviting. They walked from room to room and talked about how the furniture would look: the bright patterned rugs in the lounge, and the big double bed for the single front room. Michael was still working out how to get it here, but Sarah knew he would. He always did what he said, and she knew too that it would look amazing with its bright fluffy cushions and crisp white bedspread.

They carried the furniture from the boat and began to assemble them: the kitchen cabinets were simple but hooking up the new water tank took some time. It was noon by the time they finished and they sat on the front lawn and opened the lunch she had made.

For a while they ate without talking, looking out over the bay to the curve of the coast beyond.

'You're very quiet,' Michael said at last.

'I was enjoying the view.'

'No, I mean since - that night.' He touched her arm shyly. 'Are you all right?''

Sarah glanced at him. 'Of course I am, Mike,' she smiled briefly. 'You know I love it here.'

He nodded slowly. 'I know you do, but its not just about the Beach House, Sarah - its about us. I've tried not to hassle you...tried to give you space, you know?' He waited for her to respond but she was quiet, her eyes still on the bay. 'I know you had some things to work out,' he continued, '...that you needed time. But its been weeks now and you hardly talk to me.'

'What do you expect of me!?' Sarah said. Her voice was suddenly filled with emotion. 'What is it you want of me?'

Michael blinked at the savagery in her tone. 'I want you to talk to me...to tell me that you don't regret what happened. Tell me that you are OK...that we are OK.' His voice trailed off and he stared at her miserably. 'You know I'll do anything for you, Sarah. Just tell me what is wrong.'

'Why does everyone think something is fucking wrong!' she burst out. 'Jesus! Why can't you just leave me alone!'

'Because I love you,' he said simply.

Sarah stared at him and her anger disappeared in an instant to be replaced by a crushing weariness. The burden she had carried for the past few weeks suddenly seemed overwhelming and she knew she could no longer carry it alone.

'I'm pregnant,' she whispered.

'What?!'

'I'm pregnant.'

Michael gaped at her. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I am. Eight weeks.'

'Jesus H Christ!' his face was stricken. 'Is it...I mean, is it -' he said at last.

'Eight weeks,' she repeated. 'You do the math.'

'Fuck!'

Sarah regarded him. 'Well - thank you for your overwhelming support, Dad.'

He was instantly contrite. 'God, Sarah - I'm sorry. It's just...well, it's a shock. I never thought -'

'That cumming in me four times when I wasn't on the pill could have such a strange side effect?'

'No...well, I meant I never dreamed it would happen. When you said in the boat that it wasn't...well, your fertile time, I never gave it another thought.' He crossed to her chair and put his arms around her. 'How long have you known?'

'Just over a month.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' He held her shoulders. 'Why the hell didn't you talk to me...I could have helped.'

'Really?' She smiled at his earnestness. 'And done what? Held the pregnancy test for me?'

'I could have listened - given you support. You've had to do this all on your own and that's not right.'

Sarah's eyes softened. 'Yes, you could have, Mike,' she said, 'and I would have welcomed it too, but there were things I needed to think through.'

'And have you?'

She nodded. 'Firstly - I'm going to keep the baby.' She saw him open his mouth to protest and held up her hand. 'No, listen to me. I know you are the father but it was my decision...it is my decision. This isn't a normal situation, you know? You're my brother, and that complicates things.'

'So what else have you decided?' he asked bitterly.

'That I will love this baby no matter what.'

'What the hell does that mean?'

She sighed. 'There's a rule in our society that says 'Don't have sex with first degree relatives' - that's you and me, Mike, brother and sister. First degree because fifty percent of our genes are shared. The rule is there not just because people are narrow minded, but because there's a good reason for it.' She observed him for a moment but he did not speak. 'So what I mean is that statistically, more than fifty percent of children conceived in incest have birth defects, and we may have to live with that consequence.'

'But surely they can do tests,' he said desperately.

Sarah shook her head. 'I can't march into the clinic and say I've been inseminated by my brother. People might be just a bit judgmental about it, to say nothing of how much interest the law would suddenly take in you.'

'No, but there are other tests - you don't need to mention me...just you tell them you're concerned.'

'I have,' she said gently, 'and they will be done, I'm sure.' She stared out across the placid waters of the bay, so different from the maelstrom that almost took her life. 'That storm has a lot to answer for.'

'It was just the catalyst, Sarah...I think it would have happened anyway.' He touched her cheek gently. 'So what about us?'

'Us?'

'You and me. What does this mean for us?'

Sarah stood up and began to pack the lunch things into her bag. She thought it was a fair question that deserved an answer, but she had none. Maybe she shouldn't have told him. Maybe it would have been better to just go away and have the baby adopted. Maybe they should never have fucked.

The questions about Mike and Lucy and the baby, and whether should could finish her studies and how she would ever tell her parents filled her head like a field of barbed wire. Every single question would have to be resolved, but she didn't even know where to begin.

She lifted the bag and turned to her brother. 'I don't know,' she said at last. 'I just don't know.'

******

Lucy Bayliss-Carter lifted her face from between the thighs of her latest conquest and examined the perspiring face of their owner. The girl was her youngest yet and Lucy had enjoyed the chase and the seduction, but she had proven to be a big disappointment in bed. There was nothing wrong with her body, which was delightful, but her pussy didn't taste good and she lacked any passion. The image of Sarah suddenly popped into her mind and she scowled as she remembered how fine she was compared to the insipid little chit before her.

The girl propped herself up on her elbow. 'Was I good?' she asked. Her voice was high pitched and immature. 'My boyfriend says I'm good...or rather, he says I'm very bad.' She giggled, an empty frivolous sound. 'He really likes bad girls.'

The thought she'd had been eating a pussy that had sheathed cock suddenly revolted Lucy and she hurriedly wiped her lips on the back of her hand. 'Get dressed and get out,' she said nastily.

The smile slipped from the girl's face. 'What did you say?'

'I said I've had better sex from a piece of wood, Anna - now, get out.'

The girl jumped to her feet and began to dress. 'I think you're horrible,' she said. 'And my name's not Anna, its Adele.'

'A-fucking-disaster, more like,' Lucy hissed. 'Now piss off and close the door behind you.'

She watched as the girl scrambled into her clothes and stormed from the room. Her knickers were on the bedpost and Lucy picked them up and opened the door, still undressed. The motel corridor overlooked the central foyer two floors below and she saw the girl stamping across it.

'Hey, Adele!' she yelled, and watched as the girl stopped and peered upwards. There were other people looking too, pointing up at her nakedness.