Jessica's Sister

"Does anyone live here?"

"Sure - about 150 permanent folk. Believe it or not they rely on tourists for a living."

She laughed. "Tourists? Who the hell would want to come here?"

"Mostly grey nomads doing the Mt Dutton track to the Alice, anxious to see the Simpson desert, visit Lake Eyre and visit the outback. It's actually got a good reputation, Chloe. We'll be eating in the Florence's Roadhouse tonight."

"It sounds like a brothel."

"I don't think there's any working girls here. You have to bring your own."

She chuckled. "You couldn't afford me."

"Shucks. I thought that was part of the deal for giving you a lift."

"In your dreams, Marshall. Whatever would Jess say?"

I didn't reply, but as I retarded the mixture levers to kill the engines I knew that Jess wouldn't give a tinker's cuss if I slept with the whole town.

*

I was right about Mt Dutton - it was full of tourists and not all of them had brought caravans, either. We eventually managed to get one room with a double bed and a pull-out, but it had its own ensuite bathroom which was unusual for this part of the world. Chloe regarded our accommodation with a skeptical eye.

"I didn't realise we were sharing."

"Nor did I, Chloe. I hope you don't snore."

She shook her head at my heavy humour and dumped her bag on the double bed. "Just for that, you can have the little bed," she said, "and I get the first shower."

I shrugged. "OK. But you get to join me for dinner. There's a passable restaurant downstairs...they do a great roadkill mixed platter."

She wrinkled her nose. "Roadkill?"

"Yeah. Allegedly scraped off the road each morning after the night's traffic has killed it. Lizards, Emus, Snakes - the odd Wallaby and perhaps even a Buffalo. The gravel that comes with it is free."

"Really?"

"No. It's Woolworth's standard fare - brought in by refrigerated truck twice a week."

"Sounds great. I'll be ready in ten."

She was, too, and she looked good as we went down the wide, creaking staircase and found a table at the back of the patio. The waitress brought her a bottle of wine and a beer for me and we clinked glasses.

"I'm surprised you can drink if you are flying tomorrow," she said.

"One beer only. I lifted my glass in salute. "But don't let that stop you from having a good time."

"I will." She looked around. "This is...rustic."

"What did you expect from an outback town?"

"I don't know. I'd not really thought about it." She took a mouthful of her wine. "I imagined we'd be staying over in a bigger place - Adelaide, perhaps, and I'd have a five star hotel to sleep in."

"Is that what you'd like?"

"Not really. I've never been to a place like this - it's a bit of an adventure, you know?" Her eyes were on my face. "You get to meet interesting people this way."

"Is that a compliment?"

"If you like."

I laughed. "Kind of backhanded, wasn't it? You could have been talking about the whole town."

"I was, but right now you're part of it." She held my gaze. "Like I said, interesting people."

"Interesting isn't necessarily nice." I inclined my head slightly to indicate a woman on the table next to us. "Would you say she was interesting?"

Chloe regarded her for an instant, noting the thin disagreeable face and lank greasy hair. "Probably not."

"How about her companion?" He was grotesquely fat, with a resigned, hangdog expression in his little black button eyes.

"Nope."

"So who is, that you can see?"

"None of them," she said without looking.

"So it's just me?"

She smiled. "What's interesting is that I'm even here with you."

"Sorry?"

She took a sip of her drink and thought about her answer. "Frankly, I was surprised when you agreed to offer me a lift yesterday," she said evasively. "I thought you'd tell me to get lost." She paused for a moment, and then somewhat shyly she asked: "As a matter of interest, why did you agree? It's not like we were good friends or anything, and it was a lot to ask."

"It gave me an opportunity to get to know you a bit better - besides which there was no reason not to help you."

She looked at me with her head slightly on the side as if she was trying to decide to tell me something, and then she pushed aside a strand of errant hair from her forehead and smiled. "I'm beginning to think you are a much nicer person than me," she said softly.

"You're being too modest. I enjoyed your company today." I wondered what she had been thinking of telling me. "Why are you visiting the East?"

"Business."

"What kind of business?"

"The job interview kind."

"Really? That sounds very secretive. Would you like to tell me more?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing, David. I'm not even sure I want it."

"It's a long way to go for something you're not sure about."

"That's me - impulsive. I bet you didn't know that about me, either." Her eyes flickered to my face and she opened her mouth to say something more and then shut it again.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I was going to say something and changed my mind."

"Tell me." I smiled at her. "Nobody will ever know, I promise. Things said in Mt Dutton stay in Mt Dutton."

She laughed lightly. "You just made that up." She held my gaze for a moment and then gave a little shrug. "I was going to ask if you meant what you said - about me being good company."

"Sure. I really enjoyed talking to you today - it made the time go quickly." I reached across and grasped her hand. "And I'm looking forward to tomorrow as well."

"Really?"

"Really. And we have tonight as well."

"Ah - tonight." She looked down at my hand. "Shared room, candlelit dinner and holding hands. Are you trying to seduce me, David Marshall?"

I released her fingers from mine. "I can see how it looks but I promise I'm not."

Chloe nodded. "Jess will be pleased." She took another sip of her drink and was silent for a while, twirling a little lock of hair with her fingers. "I spoke to her a couple of days ago, David," she said suddenly. " She seemed -" she hesitated, searching for the word " - tense. Is everything all right?"

"Of course." That was the understatement of the year. Our marriage had been perfect for the first year but she'd become increasingly bitter woman. But I wasn't going to tell her that. Chloe didn't need to know how her sister exercised her demons on me every night, her voice shrill and her accusations ever more absurd. Jess was a sick woman and it was my lot to stand beside her, to help her get better. In sickness and in health. How God must have chuckled when that clause was put into the marriage contract!

"What did she say to you, Chloe?"

She shrugged. "Not much. About family, mostly. How well everyone was doing, how much she missed us. When she heard I needed to travel east she suggested I call you."

I glanced at her sharply. "Did you phone her?" I asked.

"No." Chloe shook her head. "She called me."

I sat back and thought about it. Jess hated her family and I couldn't imagine her saying anything nice about them. In three years I'd never known her to call any of them. But now apparently she had - well, Chloe anyway - and had chatted her up and was nice, which wasn't like her at all. There was something going on here that I didn't understand.

"Did she ask you to do anything in particular?"

Her eyes slid to my face. "No. Not that I can remember."

I knew she was lying, but I didn't press it. I was enjoying the evening too much and it didn't really matter anyway. Jess was capable of anything, and Chloe probably felt like the meat in a sandwich. I broke off as the waitress appeared with our meals. "Ah - here we are. Wow! That looks good."

It did, too, and we tucked in. Chloe ate with relish, clearly enjoying the meal. The sun was setting and we could see the ochre colours of the desert turning purple and indigo as the day leached away. The candles on the tables were lit and in their gentle light I watched her as she talked, her face animated and her mouth laughing. She had piled her hair up on her head and her neck was long and graceful, the skin smooth and unblemished. In some respects she was very like Jessica: the same small, neat ears set on the side of her head and the same curve to her lips, but Chloe was far more animated than her sister and I found myself increasingly attracted to her.

We ordered another bottle of wine for her and it arrived just as the band struck up their first number. She set her glass down and looked at me. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure, if you don't mind crushed feet."

She stood up and took my hand, her fingers warm in mine. To begin with we kept apart but the dance floor filled up rapidly and we were left wriggling in an increasingly small space until she put her arms around me and we moved together. She rested her head on my shoulder and swayed in time to the music, her body firm in my arms. The fragrance of her hair filled my senses and I was aware how tightly she was holding me, and I wondered again at her mood swings. This morning she could barely talk to me and now she was wrapped around me, her face pressed into my shirt and her body moulded to mine.

The first tune came to an end but she made no effort to disengage and so I held her tightly, waiting for the next. It was a lively little jig and the other couples hopped and jumped around us but she clung to me, swaying gently. Her breasts were pressed against my shirt and I could feel her thighs brushing against me as she moved her legs. My hands were on her back and I slid them down to her waist, feeling the curve of her body under my fingers and the sway of her hips as she moved. I felt my cock hardening and knew that she could probably feel it too, but the intimacy of that moment was right and I felt no shame.

Then that song ended too, and for a moment we stood on the dance floor holding each other. She turned her face to mine and I pressed my lips to hers, feeling their softness as her mouth opened, tasting her. I could feel her arms gripping me tightly and the press of her breasts against my chest, the nipples drilling into my shirt like hard little cherries. My mind was spinning - seduced by the softness of her mouth and the way she pressed her body to mine. I had been strong, but the last two years had been so difficult. Was it so wrong to long for the touch of a woman again? To lose myself in the soft depths of her body where I would find love and tenderness for a few hours instead of the bitter recriminations of my marriage?

I took her hand and led her out into the garden, to a secluded corner away from the lights of the hotel. The sky above us was a deep indigo shot through with a million stars and the moon was just beginning to rise, shrouded in a silver halo that suggested rain was coming. It painted her skin silver and her hair gleamed in its soft light. For a moment we stared into each other's eyes and then I leaned forward and embraced her, my arms around her body and my mouth against hers again. I could taste wine on her lips - and other flavours too - toothpaste and cinnamon; and her perfume filled my senses. She opened her mouth and her arms tightened around me. God, she felt good! My cock was like a log in my pants pressing against her thigh and she was pressing back against it, moving her body slightly. Her tongue was in my mouth, too, easing between my lips to touch the very tip of mine.

I moved my hands over the soft material of her dress, cupping her little tight buttocks and pulling her tighter as we ate each other, and then roaming upwards, over the curve of her hip to her breasts. Her nipples pressed against the fabric and I rolled them under my thumbs, feeling them swell with my touch, feeling her arch her back to thrust rhythmically against me in open invitation. Her eyes were on my face as I fondled her, and her breath panted slightly between her soft open lips. She was like putty in my hands, ready to do anything, and I slid my hand between us and cupped her sex. Even through the fabric of her dress I could feel the heat radiating from her body, and she groaned as my fingers dipped into the crease, and her voice was soft and gusty in my ear.

"Oh God, David...not here. Take me back upstairs."

She seized my hand and turned towards the hotel, leading me back to our room. My cock was like an iron bar and I could feel the excitement in my chest - that tightness you get when you know you are going to fuck a stranger for the first time. She dragged me past the table we had been at, through the crowd and the soft candlelight and the music and into the foyer where the big staircase was, into the bright light for the first time. And as she turned to climb the stairs I saw the expression on her face - not lust or excitement or anticipation but a sly little smile almost of triumph, as if she had proven something and had been right all along.

I guess I should have known. There were just too many unanswered questions: what was she really doing on the east coast, and what had she and Jess been speaking about before she called me to ask for a lift? What had Jess asked her to do, and why did she lie about it? And why was she being so accommodating when only this morning she could barely bring herself to speak to me? All of these thoughts flashed through my head in an instant, but I didn't care. Her hand was warm in mine and all I could think of was being inside her - to draw comfort from a woman's body again. We scurried down the corridor and fumbled with the key and then at last I drew her into the bedroom and shut the door.

She drew her dress over her head as soon as the door shut, flinging it aside and standing before me in her bra and a pair of little white panties. The only light in the room was from the neon sign from the bar on the other side of the street: red and blue, and in its light her skin looked dark and her eyes glittered slightly as they stared at me. God, she was beautiful! Her hair had come loose and tumbled around her face, framing its oval symmetry, brushing against her long, graceful neck. She wore a little necklace, too, with a pendant that hung at the crease of her cleavage to accentuate the swell of her breasts as they thrust against the thin filmy material of her bra. I could see the curve of her waist, the delicious swell of her hips and the little triangle of her pants, white against the skin of her belly and her thighs. Her face was tilted up towards me and she had an expression of desperate longing on it: her lips slightly open, the glitter of her little white teeth behind them.

For a moment we stared at each other, and then with a little cry she flung herself at me, her lips crushing against mine. Her skin was like warm velvet under my hands - not a single blemish to mar its warm plasticity, and she moaned into my mouth as we kissed. Christ, she felt good! I pulled off my shirt and undid the buckle of my trousers and she dragged them over my hips and I hopped on one foot and then the other as I kicked them off, laughing into her mouth as she kissed me. My cock was as stiff as a stick and her hand was cool as she pulled it towards her to rub the tip against her pants, smearing my juice over the silky material, dipping it down to delve into the soft crease between her thighs.

There was no foreplay: I could feel the heat of her pussy radiating out of her as she pulled aside the gusset of her pants and rubbed me against her. The angle was all wrong, so I seized her legs and lifted her, feeling her calves wrap around me, feeling her fingers align my shaft at her entrance and then release me. For a moment we were still: her body wrapped around mine and the head of my cock pressed against her vulva and her arms around my neck. Her head was back now, her eyes on my face as I penetrated her: breaking through the soft, wet barrier of her vulva in one long delicious thrust, feeling the lips fluttering around the shaft as I slid into her depths. Christ, she was tight! My cock was enveloped in her, buried to its root in a furnace of clasping, wet flesh that gripped and released me with a sort of pulsating vibrance. My hands were under her buttocks and I dipped my fingers to where we were joined, feeling the tight seal of her body stretched around my shaft like a living elastic band. The ring gripped me, held me tight inside her as she exercised her muscles, and she moaned again at the sensation.

I guess we stood like that for a minute or more - me standing there as still as a statute with my cock buried up into her belly whilst she milked me with her cunt. There was moisture now, seeping through the tight ring of her pussy over the tips of my fingers and I smeared it over the root of my shaft and then back over her flesh: the soft satin skin where her thighs curved under her buttocks and the little dip with the tight, crinkled portal of her anus. My finger rested there, feeling it twitch under its probing touch, and her lips broke free from mine as she whispered in that dark dusty room.

"Jesus, David!" a gusty little voice, racked with passion. "Ah, ah! Jesus, that's good. Fuck me....deep. Ah, yes, just like that!"

I began to thrust then, long, driving strokes that buried my turgid shaft into her tight little body. She rode me, her hands tight against my neck and her legs around my waist, and her lips close as she whispered dirty little words into my ear.

"Fuck, fuck! Fuck me deep...ah, just like that!"

And my own voice, whispering, whispering, gusty with lust as my fingers drew her buttocks aside to allow me to penetrate deeper. "I'm inside you, Chloe. Can you feel that? Can you feel me deep?"

"Christ, yes! Fucking my tight little pussy. Ah, yes...long, deep, strokes David. Fuck me deep."

I lay her on the bed, my cock breaking free to bob over her belly. For a moment she stared up at me with hungry, glinting eyes, and then she slid off her pants and scooted to the centre of the bed, waiting for me with her thighs open and the slick wet juice around her cunt shining in the light from the window. I could see the opening to her body, a dark gash in the pale flesh, its lips drawn back like a delicious exotic flower between the satin skin of her thighs. With a low moan of pleasure I buried my face between them, pressing my lips against the slick wet flesh to lap with frenzied strokes. She gasped at the sensation and drew her legs back and open, her little buttocks lifting to allow me better access, and her fingers grasped my hair like fluttering birds as I ate her.

I like women who are wet. I love the taste of the slippery, warm essence that seeps from them. Jess was as dry as a well but God, her sister made up for her. The juice oozed from her cunt like thick cream to smear over my face and coat my tongue as I lapped at her. It tasted of her body: that indefinable flavor of warm oil and salt and woman, tart and slippery on my lips. It dribbled over my chin and trickled down my throat as I lapped at her with long, smooth strokes, dipping my tongue into her crease to draw it out. She was writhing as I worked, her hands clutching my head and her thighs wriggling and twitching. My face was soaked in her: my cheeks wet against her skin - sliding eel slippery over the firm, warm flesh. I pulled back and saw how the cream dribbled from her like shining mother of pearl, trickling toward the tight little mouth of her anus: and I pressed my lips to her to draw the essence into my mouth. She was moaning, a high-pitched keening of pleasure as I serviced her until at last she could take no more and she pulled me up, her eyes on my dripping wet chin.

"No more, David. Jesus! No...no more. Fuck me again. Make me cum."

I climbed over her and she opened her legs wide, lifting her head to watch as the head of my cock touched her, pausing at the entrance to her body. Its tip was between the swollen pink lips, twitching slightly as it waited, glistening with our combined juices.