You’re my sister.”“Yeah, and who should I ask? Jimmie Henderson? I bet he’ll tell me. He’ll probably want to show me, too.”She had a point... A good point. Jimmie was an idiot. But I was probably just like him three years ago. Though, come to think of it, I had pretty much proven I was still an idiot as well.“OK. OK. I’ll talk to you about it.”She stuck her tongue out at me.“Don’t do that unless you plan to use it.”“Eww!” And she left the room.I loved my little sister. I locked my journal away. DAYS.She knew better than to say anything. He'd punish her rather than titillating her - he'd hurt rather than reward. She couldn't say anything.She couldn't hear him, though, and as her flush faded, as her skin cooled and she began to come back to herself, she wondered what his next delicious torture would be.She waited. Heart rate slowing. Breath becoming even. And still, nothing.Without any warning but the brush of air preceding the blow, it came. From nowhere - the sharp sting of his. She took a deep drag from her cigarette, coughed and peered through bleary eyes at George."Oh, look," she said, "it's the freebie. Come on in. How can we help you? Is there anything at all we can do?" she asked with heavy sarcasm.George gave an embarrassed cough. "I had a note," he said, "from Erica. Sorry, from Mistress Erica. Saying I should be here." Who's a good boy then?" she sneered. "Go on. Go through there."George went off in the direction indicated by her disdainful finger. Rather than. Not alone anymore...The rain pattered down rhythmically, as they huddled together that way for a while. At last when she pulled away, she said the last thing he expected to hear."Make love to me..." What?", he asked cautiously, not believing he had hear right."Please, Jon. I need to forget...", she replied with a look of quiet desperation in her eyes.Jon's mind raced. Help me, he sent up a silent prayer. Don't let me hurt her...His lips settled on her delicately, softly questing. She lay in his.
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