Date: Sun, 21 Aug 2005 19:48:10 -0700 (PDT) From: Jane Doe Subject: Another night wasted Chapter 2 -Okeydokey, once again, the disclaimer.If you're under 18, stop now. If you're offended by lesbianism, stop now. If you're offended by consentual incest, stop now. Otherwise, read, enjoy, whatever.- I'm mixing meatloaf for dinner and Jen is watching me, fidgeting at the island in the kitchen. She's been watching me a lot lately. I know she hates it when I worry about her, but I can't help it, she's my little sister. I've been taking care of her for most of our lives, since mom died. I don't think she remembers much about mom at all, and I envy her a bit for that. Dad has done what he could for us, and we all look after one another in our own ways. With him in the army and gone most of the day, and all the moving because of it, we've really been the only constants in one another's lives. A lot of people would end up closer because of a situation like this, but I think we all like our privacy a bit too much. At least Dad and I do. I'm a lot like him, in looks and temperament. Strawberry blonde, blue eyed, with a quiet and private temperment. I do my best to do what's expected of me, including look after Jen. Sometimes I wonder if she needs more than I'm giving her. I look up from my mixture of cold meat and eggs and oatmeal to return her gaze for a moment before she looks away, embarrassed at being caught. Every once in a while it strikes me how much she looks like mom. Dirty blonde hair as fine as silk and soft, light brown eyes. Everything about her from the curve of her jaw and her pointed chin to the shape of her slightly pursed lips and her gently upturned nose. But most of all her faraway, contemplative stare. It reminds me of the stories mom would tell, how much she liked to talk, and it hurts sometimes. I wonder what she's thinking about when she looks like that. I almost wished she would talk like mom used to, for hours. I don't remember much of what she said back then, but I would just sit and listen. I adored the sound of her voice and I loved seeing her smile. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. Suddenly I really want to see Jen smile. I'm lost in my own thoughts when she pipes up. ============================================================================ When I watch my big sister my thoughts tend to wander. Every little move she makes and every expression makes me think of something different, but it all comes back to the same thing. Even watching her make dinner becomes strangely fascinating, stray locks of hair falling into her face once in a while and the delicate way she uses her wrist to push them back in place, always fastidiously clean. The way her eyes sparkle in even the most common light, a soft, intense blue like the summer sky. The light purse of here lips as though she's thinking, or just incredibly focused on the task at hand. And her lips always take me back to that morning. The first and only time I've ever kissed them. How I lose myself whenever I think about that kiss and how I wonder what they would taste like without blood on them, or how just about any other part of her body would taste or feel, depending on where my eyes wander next. Then I realize she's looking right back at me. Guilt knots my stomach and I look away, a burning rising to my cheeks. She has this way of looking at me as thought she knows what I'm thinking and it always made me a bit self conscious, but now it's almost terrifying. She can live a long, happy life without knowing what a pervert her little sister is... I need something... anything to get my mind off that little detour. So I open my mouth and the first thing that pops to mind comes out... ============================================================================ "Lana, you goin out tonight?" "Yeah, I've got a date. Dinner should be ready at 6:30 for you and dad though." I try for a smile as my thoughts slip to Craig, my boyfriend. Tall, broad, handsome and athletic, just my type - physically at least. Lately he's been a bit pushy on the sex issue. Whatever happened to waiting? I mean, I want to do it... eventually, with the right guy and at the right time. But how am I supposed to know if he's the right guy after only two months? He just keeps pushing though. I finished the meatloaf without another word, lost in my own thoughts. After washing my hands I headed upstairs to get showered and dressed for my date. I laid out my clothes beforehand so it was a pretty short process, then on to makeup and hair. Once I was done I took a moment to check myself out... I love my hair, it's almost down to my lower back and calling it strawberry blonde just doesn't seem to do it service. All the hues of a sunset my dad said once. Maybe sunset blonde would be a better term. I think my body's turning out pretty well too... slim where I should be and curved where it matters. I'm pretty tall, once again just like dad. And my eyes, sky blue with just hints of green on the inside rim. When I was satisfied with my outfit and look I headed back downstairs to finish up dinner, putting everything in the over so it'd all be ready for my two wards. And back to Jen's watchful gaze. ============================================================================ Craig again. That asshole. I think everyone knows he's an asshole except Lana and Dad. And Dad would figure it out if he ever met the guy for more than five minutes. He's one of those guys that looks great on paper or in a picture, or really if you only meet him for five or ten minutes, but as time goes on you get to see how fucking shallow the bastard is. I hope to god she hasn't let him get in her pants. Then again I don't see why he'd still be with her after the couple months they've dated if she hadn't. That idea is totally revolting. My stomach twists again as the image flickers through my mind and the burning sickness of jealousy takes hold. I can hear the shower start upstairs and I bury my face in my hands. She so wouldn't go for that... she wouldn't hop in bed with him of all people. On some level she has to realize what a skuzzy jerk he is. Regardless, there isn't jack shit I can do about it. By the time she comes down again, dressed and ready for her date, I've managed to pull myself back into a semblance of normality, and everything else clears out of my mind as she comes into the room. Hair back in a calculatedly messy bun, a tauntingly tight little spaghetti string tank top, pristinely white, fashionably worn in jeans that make it a feat of willpower to tear my eyes away from her thighs and a long, clingy knit grey coat to finish the outfit off... pants are a good sign... especially as slim as those. No easy access there. Though they would be so much fun to peel off. I don't think there would be any way she could not notice me watching, but she just smiles at me and I melt, grinning back, watching her openly as she finishes dinner. Until Craig's intrusion it's just us, and that's how I like it. Secretly I think she likes it too, or at least doesn't mind, judging by how much happier she seemed by the time he showed up... ============================================================================ It might sound kind of strange, but I kind of enjoyed the feeling of her eyes on me. It's nice to have someone who knows how much effort it took appreciating it. I don't think her eyes left me once and by the time Craig was knocking on the door I was smiling broadly. I don't know how she manages it but there are times Jen can make me smile like nobody else in the world. With one last smile and a wave I headed out on my date. And it was not to go well. I mean, dinner was nice and he was a complete gentleman, opening doors and pulling out my chair and picking up the bill. I always offer to split it, I remember times when we had to count every last cent. I guess it makes me self conscious of spending other people's money. The whole thing went downhill from there. We went to a movie, one of those awful inspirational sports movies where the misfit underdogs pull together and through their spirit and unconventional tactics manage to win the championship or whatever. Yeah... I was thrilled. If you can't hear the sarcasm I assure you it's there. I figured he would probably take me home from there and while we drove he chattered on about the movie and sports and whatever else. I just made appreciative noises at the right times and for the largest part ignored him, which was becoming more and more common in the past couple weeks. The car came to a stop and it registered that we weren't at my place, or his. We were in the parking lot of the Brentwood Mall, away from the bright lamps that kept the more popular parking areas well lit and presumably safer for both the vehicles and the people that owned them. Really, the making out wasn't bad, it was something of a release from the responsibility and worries of home. But as always, he couldn't be satisfied with just making out. About the time he tried to get a hand up my shirt I put a stop to it, and that's where things got really ugly. To make a long story short... we argued. A lot. He was of the opinion that because I was friends with Lucy, a sweet girl but far too willing to hop in bed, I was likely just as easy. So he was dating me for that, not because he had any interest in me as a person. Or really as anything other than a living blowup doll. In the end he gave me the classy option of putting out or getting out, so I did the only thing I could... -thanks for reading, once again feedback is always welcome, feel free to contact me at malkuth_lies@yahoo.com, thanks to those who have already written and hopefully I'll bewriting more soon. Until then, much love! ~Jane-