For the first time since entering these woods, I felt the anxiety threaten to return. But it was only for a moment. When I looked into his eyes, I saw that they were light, happy, and not worried or judgmental at all. “Two children, that’s odd. I’d always wanted two children. A boy and a girl.”
We looked at each other for a long moment. I knew that if somebody had been hiding in the bushes, they would’ve looked at us like young fools, talking of children when they hardly knew each other. But they wouldn’t have had access to our feelings, to the deep emotions that spurred on our words. It had started as sex, this was true. It had started as masked, hidden sex. And now it was moving forward into something else. When I looked at him I didn’t see the lion anymore. I saw the man with whom—if I were lucky—I would spend the rest of my life.
He leaned forward, and I leaned with him.
Our lips touched.
Eli
I was drunk on happiness as we sat together in the clearing. We kissed long and hard. I breathed her in, and when she moaned my cock went rock-hard. I could’ve fucked her right there, but I knew there were people on the path just up ahead, and I didn’t want to ruin the day by being caught fucking in a public place. But I probably would have tried, anyway (my body overriding my mind, as is so often the case) if Jessica hadn’t broke off the kiss.
“Let’s do the Lindy Hop!” she said, jumping to her feet before I could respond. She looked so alive, then, so vivacious. It was the most excited I had ever seen her. There was a healthy glow to her cheeks, what I recognized as a post-orgasm glow, which made her young and beautiful—or, rather, enhanced her youth and her beauty. “Come on!” she laughed, grabbing my hands and pulling. She wasn’t strong enough to pull me to my feet if I fought her, but after a moment I didn’t fight her.
She was too magnetic, too excited. It would be like pushing a loving puppy away to push her away in that moment. We still had the clearing to ourselves, I saw when I looked toward the path. I remembered the wolf, the damn hot wolf with her pale, thin legs and her soft moans. I remembered the way the wolf and I had danced that day, the way the wolf and I had fallen for each other with the Lindy Hop.
She moved around, and then I moved with her. She laughed loudly, throwing her head back, and soon I was laughing with her. I couldn’t help myself. We spun and jived around that clearing like we were putting on a show, our old feelings from that first night spinning and jiving with us. When she moved, I saw the wolf, and then I saw her, and then the two of them became one. I didn’t have to decide, I realized as we danced, between the wolf and Jessica, because they were the same person. Jessica had a range of emotions that I could only be in awe of, but I could reach it, yes, I could reach it if I gave myself wholly to her.
These feelings moved through me as we danced, as she laughed, and as I laughed with her.
Finally, the dance ended. She fell forward into my arms, giggling, and then looked up at me and kissed me on the lips.
This was my stepsister, but that seemed less and less important as the seconds ticked by. She was my stepsister, but more importantly, she was my lover. What we were doing was wrong, and yet it felt right. What we were doing was a disaster, but it felt like a miracle. It was the worst possible thing we could have done; it was the best possible thing we could have done.
A light breeze found its way through the trees and blew against my legs, the hair standing up, and the birds looked down on us, chirping, and the insects buzzed in the shrubbery everywhere. I held her close to me and kissed her on the forehead, over and over. “I love you,” I said, a little surprised at the conviction in my own voice. I had not planned on falling in love. I had not planned on falling in love with anybody, let alone my stepsister. But it had happened now, and there was nothing to do (I told myself, convinced myself) but embrace it.
And I would embrace it. We would embrace it. I looked down at her, into her bright, sparkling, sky-blue eyes, and saw that she felt the same. She wanted to embrace our lust, our love, just as much as I did. But we were not as free as we felt in our hearts, and we had to consider Mom and Andrew. Always, we had to consider them. We needed to know how they would react, if they would divorce, if it would ruin everything.
We both loved our parents, and wanted them to be happy. But did their happiness outweigh ours? Was it more important? If I had asked this question before I met Jessica—if somebody had given me all the facts and asked me to answer objectively—I would have said yes, of course. But love, I was discovering, wasn’t objective in the slightest. I knew one thing; I felt another. And what I felt above all was that, no matter what, I would never, ever, let Jessica slip away from me.
If I had to bring everything tumbling down, I wouldn’t lose Jessica.
Jessica