PRAISE for Jess C Scott
“[Please] keep up the good work . . . the world can certainly use some more authentic, original work like yours, rather than the same old re-packaged mass-market pulp.”
— TGirl Revelations / Bibrary.com, October 2010
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“You pack huge volumes of experience and information into your [work]. You’re impressive, I’ll say that, and edgy and interesting. And mildly scary.”
— T. D. / via e-mail, 2010
* * *
“[Jess’s writing is] raw [and] full of brio. It’s very contemporary. It has personality and energy. It deals with modern issues in a very modern way.”
— Joseph Grinton | “Don’t Run Away From Sex”
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Primal Scream
[full edition / erotic anthology.02]
Published by Jess C Scott / jessINK, Smashwords Edition
Test Copyright © 2011 by Jess C Scott
Cover art copyrighted 1995-1998 by Nova Development Corporation and its licensors. Rights of all parties are reserved.
All rights reserved.
First Edition: August 2011
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintended by the author.
Summary: jessINK is pleased to present the second erotic anthology by author/artist/non-conformist, Jess C Scott. Stories include taboo-themed material, factual fiction, and non-pornographic BDSM stories. Individual story summaries are included after the table of contents.
Notes:
Note #1: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Note #2: This edition establishes the characters in Fashion Icon as step relatives. Please “use your imagination” if you enjoy ince$t-themed fiction.
Note #3: Due to the author’s personal beliefs on the subject of BDSM, this collection is non-pornographic in nature. The S/M elements are also more mild than extreme in this collection [Jess makes no guarantees for future work ;)].
Disclaimer: This is a work of contemporary fiction (the focus is on the story, not erotic/romantic fluff).
Please visit Jess’s website for more info.
http://www.jessINK.com/porn_vs_erotica.htm
(Porn vs. Erotica)
http://www.jessINK.com/bdsm.htm
(BDSM @ jessINK)
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FASHION ICON (taboo sex / step relatives / revised edition)
AFF (Asian Factual Fiction / erotic literature)
[3] CATHOLIC SCHOOL GIRLS RULE
PLAY (BDSM Anthology)
Story Summaries
I. FASHION ICON (taboo sex stories)
1.
Wicked
Lovely (step-siblings):
Ed
has been (guiltily) attracted to “Goddess Julie” for as long as
he can remember—but moves out once he finishes high school.
Unexpectedly, Julie discovers she has similar sentiments…
2.
Swiss
Miss (step-siblings):
Listless
Andy Acklin underestimates the hold his younger stepsister has over
him, who’s blossomed into a full fledged hottie.
3.
Crunk
(neighbours):
Cougar
on the prowl Rachel Coker turns her attention to Brent, her
20-year-old neighbour.
4.
Ringfinger
(step-siblings):
22-year-old
Nathan Karim proves his lifetime commitment and loyalty to Maya
Karim, three days before Maya’s wedding day.
5.
Spinning Around (stepfather/stepdaughter):
48-year-old
Deryk Wolf’s not-so-little girl shows her appreciation for his
support of her passion for fashion.
II. AFF (Factual Fiction)
Jake Blake “the Rake” from a small New England town meets his cosmopolitan Asian counterpart-cum-fetish.
2. Jack in the Box (interracial / sexual astrology):
A sensuous business acquaintance breaks Drea’s stale fixation with her first love, Jack.
3. Catholic School Girls Rule (Catholic sexual hang-ups):
When BFFs Chantal and Aisyah meet a Catholic school boy and his androgynous best friend, the two couples collectively discover how much they really have in common.
III. PLAY (Bdsm Anthology)
1. Master & Servant (“intro” / first bdsm):
Stacia wakes up to find herself in the middle of her rape fantasy—that has come true.
2. Switch (role identity / switches):
Christopher Creme and Kaja Kunis switch things up by switching D/s roles in their relationship.
3. Rockstar (knife/edge play):
Hideki brings on the knife and bondage play to help Daniel come face-to-face with his dEniAl.
4. Teacher’s Pet (May/December relationship):
A truant student gets her lecturer’s signature—and more—when she needs an official form signed.
5. The Velvet Rope (shibari/mild erotic asphyxiation):
A disenchanted lady boss recruits a personal toy boy, before the complexities of a recent divorce send her completely over the edge.
* For more info/excerpts, please visit: http://www.jessink.com/primalscream_full.htm
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Summary: A stepbrother and stepsister look to themselves, and not society, to make sense of the sexual love they share.
P.S. Due to their close relationship, Ed and Julie sometimes refer to themselves as “brother and sister” throughout this story [please see author’s note, and “use your imagination”].
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Wicked Lovely
[Ed / 4 June 2006]
YES—I’ve the whole house to myself.
Nine Inch Nails is playing upstairs, God how I love that fuck you like an animal song. Music’s so-so-so-so L-O-U-D. Rhythm’s so hypnotic it’s giving me a headspin.
Dad’s with golfing buddies. Mom’s at some beading class or bingo session. Don’t know it don’t matter.
And Julie? Julie Elle Drake is out with Bobby.
Bobby the Nice Guy.
Bobby the Prince.
Bobby the Sweet Guy who Asked Me Out with the Burnt Cookie he made at Home Ec class.
Bobby the Everything.
Think about going over to Kingston’s house for a while. Dude owes me 100 bucks. I should steal that and more when I’m over. He and his CEO dad share a stash of porn mags and expensive tobacco. But oh. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. Too half-assed to even reach over, pick up the phone and dial a number.
Switch TV on. Lounge around. It will only last a few minutes.
This languid tranquility is the prelude to what comes next.That feeling, suddenly picks up again. I try and try but I can’t get away. Cell by cell, my brain is wired to the signal. It’s like a strange invisible smoke line, luring you in...to the destination place.
“This is so weird.” I speak my thoughts out loud. One nice thing about having the house to yourself is that you can voice your own thoughts without fear.
Everyone will kill me if they know about this. I’m a perv, a deviant, a psycho, a twisted individual! This is gross unhealthy abnormal I’ll cross over a line that should have never been crossed if I haven’t already and I need counseling or should I see a psychiatrist and get myself checked out, maybe we were brought up in a screwed up kind of way?
“I don’t think so.” Detective Green on Law & Order. Lost track of what’s going on in this episode. Can’t concentrate. Can’t concentrate on shit.
Body is aching. In the craving way.
Peel myself off the sofa. Ed, you sicko.
I wanna tell the voice in my head and the whole world to shut up. They can talk and talk but they’ve not been in the same situation, they don’t even know what they’re missing out on.
That. That’s the exact thing that fuels their disgust and anger. It’s a displaced frustration, that they can never have access to this deranged special kind of arrangement. Go, Ed!
Drag myself up the stairs in a weird mix of dread guilt apprehension and uncontrollable wild anticipation and excitement.
Find myself in front of Goddess Julie’s room. The door is closed but you can’t lock it from the outside. Glare at the morons on the poster. Some lame brothers emo-looking band with way too much eyeliner and black hair dye that really sucks BIG TIME, nothing but pop “rock” crap for 12 year old girls to listen to (Julie isn’t 12—figure of speech). Their lyrics are about their love life and if those lyrics are indeed true, damn their love life blows. They don’t have one insanely hard and talented guitar solo, no drummer, no bass player, and no talent. They are just another manufactured product and who knows what their appeal is. Where’s a new Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, Nirvana, or Guns n’ Roses? Good music is dead. So once again, I don’t think they suck, I KNOW they suck.
Then the paranoia and urgency strikes. Hurry up! Someone might be home any minute!
Why’s Julie’s room always so immaculate. Even if I pack my room and try to keep it clean it looks like a pigsty within a day or two at most. Clothes papers and empty water bottles all over. Julie’s is always neat and tidy and she puts everything back in their proper place and she doesn’t use any of those awful air fresheners or “deodorizers” like you find in malls or public restrooms but there’s this nice pleasant fresh sweet scent all the same maybe she burns scented candles every night I got her a set for her birthday. But she has so many so I don’t know if she’s used it oh god oh god oh yes what I’m here for...
I slide open her top drawer yes yes oh yes of course everything is in place. Whoa she’s gotten new stuff since the last time I was here a few weeks ago. Nice stuff too, lace and more lace, blacks reds. I knew she always had it in her. But those have the price tags on still. Not used before?
But no wait! That’s good! So maybe I’m seeing them first before Bobby or anyone else.
The label says ‘Made in Hong Kong’. High quality, I didn’t know that.
I run my fingers slowly over them. Gorgeous lace. See a Free VS Cotton Panty card on the tabletop. Exotic-looking black model to the right in a pink thong covering her bare tits with her bare arms. Yes pretty face nice hair and all but I think Julie should go be a model and appear in some lingerie catalog too. What is it with the sickly looking shapeless pale stick figures nowadays yet another thing I don’t think I’ll ever understand I mean it’ll be like humping a skeleton though I wouldn’t really know for sure it’s more of a postulation: now Julie, Julie ain’t a skeleton, she’s not fat either. She’s slim but curvaceous. Her hips. Her slender thighs. The curve of her waist that screams for your hand to be there. She’s going to be the death of me. How am I supposed to date and meet new people and look for the “girl of my dreams” when I’m already under the same roof with her day and night in, how do I figure this out—she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know how wrong it is to keep smiling and treating me nice I am her big brother after all, and if Bobby dares lay a hand on her...but I bet not that guy’s a total wuss, but anyone else how can they not with an angel’s face and body for sin like that? See everyone else is entitled to do whatever they want except ME does she let them does she let them but the important question is would she let ME.
So she hasn’t used this VS card yet. Goody, that means another one is coming soon. Suddenly I freeze: I think I’m heterosexual. Yes I’m a teenage male that gets turned on by women's clothes, but recognizes himself as male, I just choose to express the ‘femininity’ of my personality. Might this even make me more able to have better sexual relationships with women? But what if I’m homo. How does liking wearing women's clothes make me homo when I would rather be in a relationship with a female than male. But what if I’m a bisexual that’s never been in a relationship with a man before? Or what’s that other one, transsexualism? What the hell does that mean anyway?
Then all of that doesn’t matter because I’m made aware of the fact that
I Am Stiff. Wanted to take this slower today but in this midst of the paranoia and actually being here that’s not going to happen. Strip my boxers off and reach out for two, three, thongs, gorgeous thongs, and oh Julie if only you were here, I’m older/taller/bigger/smarter/fitter/better-looking than that ratface Bobby with the annoying hawk nose and greasy pimply face what the hell do you see in him anyway. The sensation of lace is a new one, different from my own hands, oh oh oh anything is different and better than my own hands, my whole bod shivers with pleasure meeting with these freaking hot panties that’s going to be BETWEEN JULIE’S LEGS!!!!!!!!!
Shoot a load into her underwear. Man alive that’s the most amount in the entire past month. And then I wear them, one of ’em. The red black really bad-girl looking one. That piece of string cutting up the ass sure isn’t fine, but I don’t fit all the way in them I’m so hard.
Julie I wish you were here I can only dream about you digging this big time. “Walk around the room” you’d command, be a dominatrix crack that whip tell me anything I’d do it and Julie you angel from Hell you’re like my own flesh and blood how can this be WHY god WHY oh who cares you’ll hump me for a while from outside and after a while you’ll tell me to take them off and to come and do you for hours all through the night and we’d be sore all over the next morning.
Man, I haven’t been this hard since forever oh I want to put the wood in her like I’ve come so damn hard I’ve now got a bloody cramp in my foot and I think I just heard the front door slam and yeah oh yeah that’s Mom’s jubilant voice singing “Ed! Are you home? I got you some cookies!”, and I think of the burnt cookie and Bobby and oh shit I have 20 seconds to get outta here will you notice what I left behind, Julie? We need an apartment something somewhere there’s no way in this house coz we’d tear the house down and keep the neighbors up and Mom’s eagle eyes man don’t get me started on that do you know that when I say I wanna travel the world live in some place like Mauritius or the Maldives and all my escapist dreams, I really mean that I want to do all that with you I don’t know why it just seems to be a natural choice coz we know each other well and get on with each other great why shouldn’t we and Julie you’re the one person that doesn’t judge me oh I guess I’ll lay these back neatly like you left and like it and maybe you’ll dream of me before you sleep at night like I do about you Julie, Julie
[Julie : 3 February 2007]
Bobby dumped me.
I don’t know if I was expecting or asking too much. I feel like I’ve wasted a whole portion of my life. I could have spent this time doing much more useful things.
I really need a life, and have to let loose more instead of getting caught up in relationship rubbish.
If I think back, there was one point where I figured that things weren’t working out for either of us.
Some guys say that going down on a girl is “nasty”. I guess it doesn’t really taste like honey all of the time, but if we’re going to go down on them all the time, I think it’s only fair that both sides make the effort to please each other.
Oh well. So we were in the basement. It was around Christmas time. I was at his house, we were alone in the basement, and we were making love.
“Will you go down on me?” I ventured.
I read in magazines countless times. That in relationships, it’s all about communication. That if I wanted something from my boyfriend, whether it was sexual or not, I’d have to voice up and let him know about it. Because nobody is a mind-reader. So okay, I bought that. Now to sit back and see what results I would get for my efforts.
It’s a good thing I am a cynical pessimist sometimes. It keeps you from being bruised a little too much. Ed thinks I’m smart, that’s why I don’t take crap from anyone, but I think I’m just more of a realist more than anything.
So I waited. Saw Bobby’s face in between my thighs. He was fingering me, not really knowing what to do next.
Did I really expect him to answer, “Yes, dear—your wish is my command,” like some incredible sexual-requests-granting genie?
Well, maybe. For just a wishy-washy second.
He was hesitating. His hesitation seemed to conquer his...enthusiasm (if there was any to begin with)...in this “something new” to try out.
He did try it out though. He first gave a lick. There was nothing wrong with the actual lick. It was light, tentative, careful, and he didn’t really seem totally grossed out.
But his heart wasn’t in it.
It was, like, “Okay, you asked for something, so I gave it to you. So there.” Was it pleasant for him? Was I forcing him to do something he didn’t want to?
“Do I continue?” he asked. Not in an unfriendly manner.
I decided to give it one more chance.
“Mmm,” I uttered as sexily as I could. I shot him a sultry look with my eyes. I gave him the sauciest smile I could manage too. I wanted him to know that I didn’t doubt his abilities. That there was no rush about anything. That I wanted us to both enjoy it.
He kept at it for a while. I writhed around more out of obligation than actual ecstasy. My own inventive uses of the edges of chairs and tables could do the job ten times better.
“Can I go back to what we were doing before?” I heard Bobby say.
“Alright, baby,” I replied. “Your tongue’s getting tired, huh?”
“I guess you’re taking too long to come.”
I laughed. We rolled over and started spooning. I glanced at the clock on the wall—he must have been at it for about ten minutes, tops.
From then on things were just...different.
Maybe I should have waited a little longer. I did love Bobby, so I thought it was right, I thought it would be right...the first time was quite good. It was memorable, because we were both excited and horny. It took two or three times to get the position right.
But now, he was just a little spaced out a lot of the time. Like he’d rather be doing something else than be with me. The spark had gone out.
Maybe he had the hots for someone else. I didn’t want to know so I didn’t ask.
I told Sandra about this incident at Bobby’s basement. But even she doesn’t know about the other thing that I’ve never told anyone about.
When Bobby was between my thighs, I found myself fantasizing about another male. Someone who’d really just enjoy going down on me and who’d take his time with it, and enjoy the time spent with me instead of griping on how long I took to come and all sorts of other technicalities.
I thought far out—I thought of Jonathan Rhys Meyers. I thought of Johnny Depp. I thought of Orlando Bloom. Jude Law. Some model I saw on a Burberry’s ad.
And suddenly, for a moment or two, I thought of Ed. Ed Noel Drake, with his dark hair and nice eyes. I told him that his eyes reminded me of Elvis Presley once. He said, “Thanks. That’s what every sister should say to their older brother,” and I smiled.
I’ve always taken it as a compliment when people say we look alike because with his good build, handsome youthful features (high cheekbones, beautiful smile—natural, no orthodontic makeover required), he’s quite God’s gift to women.
And as I was sighing, and moaning, the sigh was because I just knew that Ed wouldn’t have said the same thing that Bobby did. But I wondered how I was going to ever find that out to prove it.
Ed’s a good older brother. Protective, so I made sure Bobby wasn’t around too much. Why Ed would ever want to know what I taste like, is some fantasy I’d best keep to myself.
We are pretty close step-siblings. I would have to be out of my mind to allow something like that, to mess things up between us.
[Ed / 12 March 2007]
There is a GOD. Julie told me yesterday that she just broke up with Bobby I asked her what happened she said things just weren’t working out and I said good now you can get yourself a better guy meaning me of course a loud voice says from somewhere above my head wow I guess she’s finally opened her eyes.
Then Kingston sends me a text telling me there’s a party over at his house today, coz his folks are out of town, and I say to Julie “hey man let’s go you can get your mind off Bobby it’ll be fun” and she says “yes that sounds like a good idea” and we tell Mom we’re going to watch a late-night movie later tonight and Mom says “okay” coz we told her while she was yakking on the phone about some Desperate Housewives episode then OH.ME.OH.MY I realize that this is the day I have been waiting on ever since I can remember.
We’re already here and everyone is pissed drunk the number of people making out upstairs I don’t have enough fingers to count them, and one of the rooms with clothes on the bed reminds me of when I saw Julie changing when she was 13. I must have seen her changing before but that’s the one I remember. At home her door is normally closed when she’s getting dressed. Nobody knows except the walls of that clubhouse we went to over the weekend.
It was one of those chalets we were in. 4pm her door was open I was walking by she had three or four shirts laid out on the bed. Her girlish body, just on the brink of teenagedom. She was more concerned with picking out the best one than having privacy the sun’s rays were shining in, her hair was falling over her chest she’s so pretty, and she has only gotten prettier since. I went into the shower where I was heading to and masturbated myself to climax.
Julie Julie Julie, my starlight, where areeeeeeeeee you. I saw her just now and she was talking to a skanky-looking chick that looked drunk enough. I mean I was looking out for Julie, making steadily sure she was getting slowly more and more drunk, then bringing her to a new bunch of people so she’d get mixed up with who she was talking to, and the old bunch of people we were talking to would forget about us and then everyone would forget about us and she would be alone with me.
I am chatting with Kingston about his actress-cousin “Aiko Bailey” I ask “is she related to whoever owns Bailey’s Irish Cream”, and when Kingston turns round and yells “WATCH THE FRIGGIN’ VASE!!” at a couple of people on top of the piano I head for the drawer where sure enough there’s a wad of cash, and I take two hundred dollar bills, never know when you’re gonna need some extra dosh. When I turn around, I don’t know where Julie is and 30 people seem to have come in through the front door so where on earth is someone when you really wanna find them?
I was going to get her drunk, check. I was going to get her so drunk she wouldn’t know who she was with and I’d be able to come in and rescue her like the chivalrous older brother I was and am but maybe I wouldn’t even need to do that all I’d need to do was steal her away to some place—all is going good, but maybe it’ll have to be outdoors, Kingston’s house is too full already dammit the huge shower with its glass doors would be perfect but of course that place is already locked, I’d pay the bozos inside if I had cash to spare so that I could loan the restroom for a half hour or so then I realize that I DO have the cash but am missing the partner that I can’t find but really anywhere would do ANYWHERE I already have the condoms in my wallet just in case I if I still have my wallet with me in the first place, do I, do I—I do, alright, alright.
And then YES there she is on the couch, Julie oh my fallen angel in the arms of this lecherous looking I think lecherous is the right word dude who I think is the quarterback of the university football team. I remember seeing his face a few times in the local papers. Her shirt is lifted and I see those beautiful awesome rose-pink jewels her firm supple torso’s mesmerizing focal points, her denim bra it’s on the guy’s shoulder and she’s stroking his dick which must be in Heaven now through his jeans.
Thanks mofo! Ed can now save the day! I’m gonna rescue her from this lowlife asshole and tell her all about it tomorrow.
I give him a shove and say: “Hey, that's my sister. Get off her.”
Quarterback doesn’t seem to buy the concerned brother act, why’d he need to be threatened by me at all as well compared to him I must admit that he is the more physically opposing. Trouble, trouble. Cold shiver runs down my spine but I finish what I start.
Quarterback suitably sizes me up and knows snapping my neck wouldn’t be difficult.
“You’re so funny I’ll kick your ass,” he slurs, his hands on Julie’s buttcheeks.
“She’s underage.”
“She doesn’t look it. And she doesn’t act like it.”
“Well she is, and I can report you. I’ll take a picture on my cell too.”
I hold it up. I’m not too sure about the law, and my cell has zero camera phone capabilities. But it works.
Quarterback shoots me this look and I see the empty bottles of Heineken on the floor should I smash one over his head before he does it to me first but he slinks off the seat with Julie’s bra as a souvenir the lucky swine and leaves Julie half-naked yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! right there waiting for me.
“Oh you,” she purrs. Oh, how sweet her voice is. “I was just getting started! Did you meet Casey? He said he’s taking me to a dance next week!”
“Yes, yes I did. Let’s go now, shall we.” I pull her shirt down and my heart is pounding in my head.
“Where are we going?”
“Out, somewhere. For fresh air.”
There’s some people at the door that I don’t know but no one gets in the way as we two stumble out of the house and it’s just us two making our way to the back, Kingston’s house is so huge and the garden is limitless and the lighting is dim and nice and I hear a couple or two making out, moans the raw sounds of hot damn just the thing I need and I’m aiming for the furthest spot away, at the fence, or maybe over the fence if I can manage coz there’s a park over that side and that would be swell.
I feel Julie weakly gripping my arms, and her weight’s on me. She’s passed out!
This is my chance NOW before she wakes up, but even if she does she wouldn’t know it’s me coz it’s so dark, and her memory would be hazy, now’s the time. I carry her do my best is she really THIS heavy one hand across the upper back this looks a lot easier in the movies and another at the knees what-is-that weird squishy thing I just stepped on, then we reach this gazebo thing in Kingston’s garden. I go to the back of it and it’s a good hiding spot. I’ll be able to see or hear anyone if anyone steps near.
I shake her very lightly and whisper, Julie...
She doesn't respond. The dim light from the two tall lamps in front of the gazebo allows me to see what I am doing. My hands are trembling as I lift up her shirt. My hands are still shaking and I am panting slightly. My crotch feels like it’s on fire. I unzip her skintight jeans and pull it down and I know there’s that perfect 10 ass which would look even better riding My Captain Caveman.
I eye her flat stomach and her lacy red-black panties, the one I had come in before. I want her completely in the nude I lie there over her frozen for a minute as I build up the courage to start removing her magnificent mind-blowing panties when suddenly, she flickers her eyelids open.
“Ed,” she says softly.
God Almighty she recognizes me and this is the end of me. She’s going to scream and I’ll have to knock her out. Promptly. Soon. Now. I’m a murderer. This was doomed from the start. Anything would be better. Getting raped by a stranger, being kidnapped, anything but your own brother
“Ed.” She smiles, a real happy smile, not the drunk flirty ditzy “he’s taking me to the dance!” semi-conscious type of smile, and passes out again.
My breathing stops for 5 seconds. I lean into her again, and whisper “Julie?” I don’t know what else to say she’s not waking up ED: WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR and I can hear some of the faint hip hop music coming from Kingston’s house, and see the cars parked outside, and I’m still hard but I think it’ll only be for a couple of seconds more and I feel a little guilty, but this is the best that I can do, the years and years before something...and I find myself going down, and I kiss one of her breasts...that are so, so soft and snuggly...and I find myself doing it, because it’s out of something that feels faintly like respect and honor and I do a 180 from where I was before all these foreign words I’ve never thought about come floating up in my head. I kissed her: for her trust her friendship her laughs her support her positivity her femininity......and I cover her up lest anyone should see her I mean what the shiz she shouldn’t be on display like this for the whole world to see and gawk and ogle at even though there is no one and I lie on the grass next to her, feeling like I want to pull my entrails out and hers too for getting me into this senseless crudacious mindless craphole, yet I’m filled with a strange sense of what feels something like pride, while still being undeniably incensed at myself for everything, even though I can really have it all right now as I take her lovely smooth hand in my sweaty worthless one and gaze at the stars above, wondering to no end if I should, wondering why I’m not, wondering if she’s alright, wondering what kind of fubar brother I am, wondering if she’s ever wanted me, wondering
Ed: something’s wrong with you.
[Julie : 14 March 2007]
Spent yesterday lying around in bed.
It was the usual scene the other night. Well, I mean “the usual” in the sense that that’s what happens at a party sometimes when there’s way too much booze. Too much booze makes you do reproductive acts and lots of other activities.
I wasn’t holding it onto Ed to look out for me or do the whole protective older brother thing. I’ve given these get-togethers the miss most of the time, so I was going to check caution at the door. Before I’m twenty-one and officially an adult, and then twenty-five, whereby it’s all downhill and hello to gravity thereafter.
Kristy Rose was at the party. I remember talking to her, something about chocolate fondue and strawberries. Today, she was online, and she said she wished she had a brother like Ed. I asked her why, and she said I was “going too far with this guy” (whom she doesn’t know), and that Ed stopped us. I hope Ed didn’t see me doing anything too crude...
What do I remember?
I was admiring Brad Kingston’s kitchen at one point. It was really sleek and the fridge and ovens were top-of-the-line. Very spacious too.
I remember drinking some gin, and then two shots of something called Magic 78 Vodka, which was 78% vol. alcohol, hence the name.
It’s quite a blur after that. Lots of people and faces. The floor seemed to be a little out of alignment, like one of those optical illusions.
Someone said “Megan Fox.” I don’t know if it’s the same person who said he wanted to take me to some spring break dance next month. Oh right, I vaguely remember seeing a bra on somebody’s chest. A hulking jock looking kind of guy? Was he parading around in it? Hmm. It’s likely to be mine because I used my denim one there that evening, and I’m missing that from my collection.
Someone was dragging me out later. We were stepping over bottles and bodies. I think something crashed to the floor—a guitar hanging on the wall, or a painting or something.
We were holding hands. It was a new feeling: how nice and safe holding a hand could be. Right now, I’m thinking to myself why Bobby’s hand never gave me the same warm feeling.
There was a very bright light. I was staring at one of the lights on the front porch—or wait, it was a car. This car came pulling in and flooded my eyes with the headlights.
Shortly after, I fell against someone’s body. It was a lean, very comfortable body. I think it might have been Ed but I can’t be sure.
It was akin to the feeling when I sometimes hug my fluffy pillow at night when I’m alone, and I’ll pretend the pillow is my fantasy guy that knows everything about me and where to touch me and how, etc...
The earth was kind of spinning. Then I was in the dark, stretched out in Brad’s garden. I was filled with a sense of exhilaration. There was something like a crowd cheering me on in the background. I was hallucinating that Ed was all over me! I saw his face once. It was a twin image. I said, “Ed, I’m so glad you’re here!”
Did I say it twice? Once for each image that I saw of him?
I don’t know. It felt like a fragment of a dream. I don’t even know if I thought it or spoke it aloud, or whether I was dreaming or conscious.
What I do know is what happened afterward.
I must have passed out again. When I came to, I was at home, in my room. I was feeling woozy. My head hurt. I glanced at my Swatch wristwatch—it was 1.16am. Then I saw Ed’s bare back.
I’d seen him around the house a few times like that. No chest hair. There’s some below the naval.
He was in his shorts and arranging two coasters, with two tall glasses of ice water on the tabletop.
“Hey, Julie,” he said, when he saw I was awake.
My body registered that I was raging with thirst. He handed me a glass of water, and steadied it because I nearly dropped it. The water down my throat was like diving into a refreshing pool. The light was down rather low. I noticed I was still in the outfit I’d gone to Brad’s in, sans the bra.
“Did Mom wake up?” I asked. Ed said, “Yeah, but I said I was going to have a bath and that you were asleep.” He added that he went downwards, missing all the footsteps that creaked, and got the glasses of water.
“You got me home?” I said.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Well, you had a little too much to drink.”
I laughed and nearly fell onto him—held his arm as I sat back up again, as I tried to stay awake without the aid of toothpicks to keep my eyes open. “Did I do anything?”
“No, just walked over some people, and uhm...yeah.”
“Uhm yeah” is my brother’s way of indicating that something did happen, but he just didn’t want to talk about it.
I pointed to his shoulder. “Are you getting that tattoo?” I asked. He’d been going on about an angel tattoo on his left shoulder blade for a few weeks.
“No.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Think I’ll be clean. I mean I’m not too sure about it...uhm. Yeah.”
“Thanks for getting me back,” I said, and gave him a hug before I fell back onto the bed.
A few minutes later—could have been a few hours for all I knew, but my watch said 1.29am—I woke up, and Ed was sitting on the edge of the bed. I still had a bad headache, but was able to function. “Hey, you’re still up,” I said, sounding and looking half-drunk still, just to see what he’d say next.
I was curious. He had a look on his face like he was trying to read you, to see if he could ask you something. I wanted to know what it was.
“Yeah. Man, I’m just stoning.” He stood up. “I’ll go now. Good night.”
I rolled over onto my stomach. “You canstaifyannnn.” It came out muffled and that was the point. What I meant was, “You can stay if you want.”
“Hmm?”
I kept quiet.
“Julie...what did you say?” I felt his hand on my shoulder. To be more accurate, I think it was the upper side of two fingers. His touch was so gentle and light. I wish I could feel more of his touches. I wish I could...corrupt him.
“Stay a while?” I said. “Keep me some company. Rabbits! Bunnies! Look at all the bunnies hopping! Whee!”
I added that last bit hoping that my drunken act would suffice. Then I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
Whether my acting skills worked or not, he got under the covers beside me. I felt an electric wave going through my body from the head down to my feet. I wanted to turn around and face him, but I didn’t dare. This was the closest I’d been with Ed, in this horizontal position that is.
I was waiting for something. Waiting for him to make a move. He could have. I would have reciprocated.
In short, it’d go along this line: I was drunk, he took advantage of me, and we’d leave it at that, and never talk about it again.
At least I’d know what my own brother really felt like.
“How do you like to make love?”
“Do you like it rough?”
“Have girls given you handjobs or blowjobs before?”
“Will you let my tongue do a taste test on you?”
All the things I wanted to ask, but didn’t say...
I’d go down on him, no strings attached. Just to make him happy. For all the times he was there for me and stuff.
But like the good brother he is: Ed didn’t do a single thing.
My hormones were on overdrive, and all he did was peacefully lie there, keeping his hands to himself, beside his body. He was only there because I’d asked him to stay.
He fell asleep faster than I did. He was still as a photograph.
Ed looks so suave with his dark brown hair a little long and unkempt. Some strands were half covering his face.
I went as close as I could. “Ed,” I whispered. No answer, so I smelt him. So clean and fresh. He must have applied some moisturizer (I know that fragrance: St. Ives Mineral Therapy—that’d explain why my bottle is finishing faster than usual), and if I’m not wrong, he had spritzed on a little bit of some nice masculine perfume as well.
I didn’t touch him. I didn’t want to wake him from the slumber he was in. I was pleased just watching him.
It was great having a warm body there on my bed too, instead of just me and my pillow. Smelling him a second time made me want to take a bath because I probably needed it.
But all I wanted to do was drink some water and get some shut-eye.
“Goodnight, Ed,” I whispered again. I love my brother so much.
Some people are just holier than others.
[Ed / 14 June 2007]
School is over. I’ve moved out. “What’s the rush!” yeah everyone jokes and jostles but everyone would do the same if they were in my shoes. Try it I bet y’all would crumble to bits in weeks.
Throw some reason about wanting my independence and “discovering the real world” whatever that means and it’s all good, those aren’t totally false though but nobody knows what this is really all about:
Goodbye, my love.
Yesterday night, I was standing outside your door for the last time. Thinking of your breath. Thinking of my arm around your waist, and my heart shattering into a million pieces. That night, I came so close, more than once, and I just couldn’t. You can never know.
Even if you did recognize me out on the garden at Kingston’s which I doubt, even if you felt the same for me at a 0.001%-chance for even just a moment, even if you didn’t want kids I know you say you don’t, but what if you do one day best for females to have kids before they’re 30 years old that’s my opinion, but anyway so it nothing is ever going to happen, and I just whispered outside your door yesterday that I love you and that I’ve always loved you and I’ll always be there for you please take care of yourself.