Chapter 5: Big Sis, I Love You

At first, Colette Warth resisted. She twisted away, trying to avoid my mouth, and I took it for a ploy, figuring she was just playing hard to get. A woman who bought that kind of battery-powered toy online, I told myself, could not be all that innocent. I bore down, pinning her wrists above her head, pressing my weight on her as I forced a kiss. She stopped struggling, yet kept her lips sealed, refusing to open her mouth. "Big sis, I love you," I said-the way we address an older woman where I'm from. She wasn't my actual sister. I meant it-it wasn't a line. If I ever met a woman who treated me with real heart, I swore I would never leave her side. Those three words seemed to work some magic. With her eyes still closed, tears gathered and spilled, and her lips parted a fraction. I seized the opening and forced my tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers. It had been more than half a year since I had touched a woman. With a beautiful woman beneath me, all that pent-up desire flared, the way dry tinder catches at the first spark. The alcohol in my blood stripped away what little sense I had left. I kissed her hard and let my hands roam. Her body tensed, then trembled. When I moved my mouth away and sucked on her tongue, a stifled moan escaped her. I took that for assent and grew bolder. I eased off her mouth, saw the swell of her lips where I had been too rough, brushed a clumsy kiss there, and tugged at the ties of her nightgown. It was one of those silky, pretty ones, sprinkled with tiny flowers and knotted with little bows at the shoulders. A light pull, and the straps came free. The fabric slid down. I kissed her chest, cupping her with my hands, rolling her nipple between my fingers. Her skin flushed. She began to move under me in small, unsteady waves, her breathing breaking into uneven sounds that were no longer muffled. Greedy, I pressed her breasts together and kissed them again, without restraint. My hand kept traveling, down the smooth line of her body, across the flat of her belly, then lower. I pushed her underwear aside and reached between her thighs. She clamped her legs shut. I tried to work a finger in, edging between her thighs toward her entrance. "Do you like it, big sis?" I asked. She kept her eyes closed and did not answer. The way she moved, the look on her face, I told myself it was enough. "If you like it, say it," I said, and forced my finger deeper. "Gentler... it hurts." She finally cried out. "If that hurts, there's worse coming," I said, and yanked off her underwear. I shoved down my own shorts. We were both naked. I was hard, ready, poised right at the threshold. This was supposed to be my moment to shine. How was I supposed to compete with that buzzing toy she bought online, though? The thought made me flinch. That hesitation did me in. My elbow knocked her right shin. "Ow," she cried, and jerked upright on the sofa. "It hurts." "What is it?" I asked, startled. "It hurts," she said again. "Did he hit you?" I finally saw why she was crying out. Below her knee, a big bruise bloomed red and purple, angry and swollen. "I'm sorry. I drank too much. Pretend tonight never happened. Just forget it," Colette said, turning on a dime. She dressed in a rush, left me sitting there naked and foolish, and slipped out the door. I sat on the sofa, stunned. Had nothing really happened, just like she said? Could I just forget it, as if it were that simple? Or had it all been a dream, a loser's sweet fantasy, shattered the moment I let myself believe it? I wanted to cry, but the tears would not come.