A Brother's Dilemma

She nodded, her face pinched and white. 'Yes.'

'Then know this, too. I love you and always will, no matter what. If I can do anything to help sort this out I will. And if I can do anything to help you, I will.'

'Thank you.' Ash whispered. She glanced across at our house with its white picket fence and hanging baskets at the windows, splashes of bright colour against the pale honey stonework. 'I have to go, Tom. I need to think, and probably have a cry too.'

'You can cry tomorrow, Sis – I won't mind. And I promise not to be judgmental either.'

'I doubt you'll be able to do that,' she said, and I watched her walk across the street.

*

'What did Dad have to say last night?' Ash was in her running gear and we were a little way from the house. The dark bruises of exhaustion had gone from under her eyes and she looked rested.

'Not much,' I replied, 'he asked where you were and then talked a bit about the conference. I think he went to bed early, and Mum followed. How did you sleep?'

'Really well, thanks. How about you?'

'Not so good. I was tossing and turning all night, thinking about this.'

'You worry too much, Tom.' She flashed me a smile, which surprised me. I'd expected her to be in bad shape this morning, but she looked like there wasn't a care in the world. We ran for a little while in silence along the main street. It was busy even this early, and I could see she didn't want to speak until we found somewhere to stop.

'In here,' she said at length, and we turned into the local church, running past the main building to the little graveyard beyond. There was a bench under the big Cyprus tree and we flopped down on it. There wasn't another soul around.

'I wanted to bring you here to talk,' she said at length.

'Why?'

'Because it's a good place to be reminded of who we are.'

I laughed briefly. 'I know who we are, Ash – or at least, I know who I am. I'm just not sure I know you any more.'

'I'm still the same girl Tom, despite what you think.' She pointed to the far end of the graveyard. 'Do you know whose grave is over there?'

'Grandad's.'

'That's right. Killed in a car crash when I was eleven. And he's lying next to his wife, who died ten years earlier. Neither of them was fifty years old before their lives were over.'

'This isn't about them, Ashley,' I said gently, 'it's about you and Dad, and us.'

'I'll get to that,' she said, 'but I want you to remember that they were real people, with hopes and dreams and aspirations – a lot of which never came true. Don't you think that teaches us something?'

'Teaches us? Like what?'

'That we should try to live our lives when we can. You never know what might be around the corner.'

I glanced at my sister quickly to see if she was joking, but I could see she wasn't. it was a bizarre attempt to justify whatever was going on, and I didn't buy it.

'From what Mum says, Grandad was loose with his hands when he thought no one was looking,' I replied. 'I'm not sure you should use him as a moral candle.'

Ash laughed lightly. 'Yeah, I'd forgotten that bit. He never tried anything with me at least.' She was quiet for a moment, thinking. I could hear the rumble of traffic on the main road to the south but otherwise the churchyard was quiet. 'I just wanted to make the point that all of us need to bring excitement and adventure into our lives, or we may die wishing we had,' she said.

'So having an affair with your father is your answer to that?'

'Affair is a pretty strong word, Tom,' she said mildly.

'Well, tell me what it was then. All of the evidence points to something pretty intense between you.'

Ash nodded in agreement. 'I think that's probably right,' she said. 'Would you like me to tell you what happened?'

'Very much.'

'All right. What you said yesterday was right, of course. I guess I was shell-shocked when you hit me with it...I needed time to think, and I wanted to protect him. But you're right – we do need to be truthful with each other so yes, Dad and I are...involved.'

The word hung on the air between us for a moment...involved. An innocuous word to hide what she really meant: Dad and I are fucking. But it was confirmation of my worst fears and I remember feeling the shock of it, like an unexpected punch in the belly that knocks the wind out of you. I guess I'd been hoping there was some other explanation, but now my gorgeous sister was telling me to my face that it was true – she and Dad were having sex. My surprise must have shown, perhaps with a trace of disgust because she lifted her face and looked at me defiantly.

'And I'm not ashamed of it, Tom, so get that expression off your dial!' her words were sharp. 'Last night I lay in bed and thought about this, and I figured what's done is done! I'm not going to have a guilt trip for the rest of my life for having sex with someone I love - and do you know what? I slept like a baby, and I feel exactly the same way about it this morning - so get used to it.' She glared at me for a moment, but then her voice softened. 'Look, you promised not to be judgmental, so don't get all hissy with me. Can you do that?'

'I think so. You can hit me if I do.'

Ash laughed. 'All right. You can count on it.' She settled back on the bench seat and closed her eyes for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. 'It started back in October,' she said at length. 'You might remember I was dating a guy called Patrick Phillips. We'd been going out for the best part of two years and I was pretty keen on him -'

'Pat the Rat. I remember.'

'Don't interrupt. I know you weren't keen on him, but he was a good-looking guy with prospects and he treated me well. I liked going out with him and I liked what we did together.' She chuckled softly. 'He's the one who took my virginity, so he was special. He was kind and considerate, and I thought he might be the one.'

'And then he jilted you.'

'Yes.' Ash glanced at me. 'You do remember. I found out he was shagging Ginny, my best friend, not to mention a couple of others.'

'It happens, Ash.' I remembered my last girlfriend and what she'd been up to. 'I thought Ellie was the right one too, but it turned out she was fucking for England.'

'Yes, it happens,' she agreed, 'but this was different. He'd sworn I was the one. We used to spend time talking about our future together – how we would find a place to live, what we'd do when we graduated – that sort of stuff. We even talked about how many kids we'd have, and what their names would be. After a few weeks I was head over heels in love with him, and not long after that I was infatuated. It was pretty intense.'

I did remember, and although Ash didn't believe me, I'd liked him. He'd seemed a nice guy who was devoted to my sister, and that was good enough for me.

'- so when I found out what he was doing I was devastated,' she continued. 'Especially when I found out the name of the other person he was shagging.'

Here was something I didn't know. 'Really? Who was she?'

'It was a he. Rod Phillips.'

'Christ! Really?'

'No doubt about it. He was into guys and girls.'

'How the hell did you find out?'

'I fronted Ginny – asked her if she was shagging my boyfriend. I thought she'd be all embarrassed, but she wasn't. She laughed into my face and said she was surprised it had taken me that long to figure it out - and then she told me in great detail just what they used to do to each other and how often - and how much better it was when Roddy joined in.'

I was dumbstruck. Pat Phillips had seemed as meek as a kitten but it seemed he'd had a tiger in his pants.

'Perhaps Ginny just liked two guys, Ash,' I said. 'That didn't make him bisexual.'

'He'd fuck both of them, Tom – apparently with equal enjoyment.' Ginny was very explicit – besides, did you ever meet Rod?'

'Not that I can recall.'

'I did. I was that pissed off I marched over to the Delicatessen where he worked and demanded to speak to him.' She smiled faintly. 'He had the mannerisms of someone who wasn't adverse to giving or receiving, if you know what I mean. And just like Ginny he wasn't embarrassed either – just laughed and told me I could have had a piece of the action if I'd wanted, if I hadn't been so fucking uptight. He explained that if I'd let Pat ream my arse whenever he wanted he, Roddy Phillips, wouldn't have had to stand in for me...or words to that effect.'

'Jesus. I'm sorry, Ash. That must have been awful.'

'It was.' She paused for a few moments, thinking back, gathering her thoughts. 'I think I've always been pretty well grounded, don't you? I didn't have unreasonable expectations – just commitment from someone who'd promised it to me, and some honesty. But in an instant of time I'd found out that not only was he unfaithful to me, but was doing it with girls and guys – and everybody who knew was laughing at me behind my back.' She shook her head. 'I'd even gone on the pill for him, so we could make love without condoms – only to find he'd been putting his dick into all sorts of places it shouldn't have been. Christ! I'm bloody lucky I didn't catch anything!'

I looked at her in astonishment. Considering what we were here to talk about, words like commitment and honesty were probably a bit rich. I opened my mouth to say so but changed my mind – it wouldn't serve any purpose to be confrontational.

Instead I reached out and took my sister's hand. 'I'm so sorry, Ash – I had no idea. You should have told me. I'd have killed the prick.'

'I didn't want anyone else to know. I felt – violated, you know? Like I'd been the victim of protracted rape. It's hard to explain.'

'I think I get it.' I squeezed her fingers. 'But you should have told me – at least I could have shared the hurt.'

Ash nodded, her eyes on the ground. 'I didn't need to, Tom. As it turned out, Dad figured it out pretty quickly and took me on one side to find out what was going on.'

'How did he figure it out?'

My sister shrugged. 'I was a mess. I remember coming home, looking like a train wreck. You and Mum were both out somewhere, and Dad took one look at me and knew something was up. He didn't say a word – he just took me in his arms and held me while I cried.'

I smiled at the thought. Mum was the emotionally sensitive one of the family, but Dad with his computer brain would have sliced and diced the problem into little logical elements, dealing with each issue one at a time. It would have been an interesting discussion – the raw emotions of a jilted teenager and the impassionate logic of an IT guru.

'I can see what you're thinking, Tom. Dad's so anal – how could he have coped with that?'

I nodded. 'Yeah, I was. He would have been happier writing a Fortran algorithm to find the solution, I think.'

She laughed softly. 'That's what I thought too, but he was lovely. I learned a lot about him that day that I'd never appreciated before.' She glanced at me shyly. 'An awful lot'

'What happened?'

'Him and me happened,' Ash said simply. 'We went from father and daughter to something else in about 30 minutes. It was when common sense went out of the window and madness took over.'

'I don't get it, Ash. How can years of a family structure with all its social boundaries be swept away like that?

'It was easy,' she said simply.

*

He took in the shattered look and his heart broke for his little girl.

'Come here, baby,' he murmured, and opened his arms to enfold her.

She came to him, pressed warm against his body. He could smell the puppy-smell of her skin and the apple cinnamon scent of her hair, and her tears were hot against his face. They embraced until her sobs quietened.

'Tell Daddy what's troubling you,' he whispered, and he listened to her words, hesitant at first and then pouring like water from a broken dam. Words of betrayal, of shattered trust and duplicity, and of confidence lost. He hugged her tighter to protect his precious golden girl from harm, and he felt her trembling diminish.

And after a while the words were gone but they clung together still, silent, each luxuriating in the feel of the other. She drew comfort from him, safe in the arms that had offered protection for as long as she could remember. Strong arms that shut out the hurt she had suffered, that gave warmth and sanctuary. She pressed her face into his neck and sensed the beating of his heart and heard the quiet words of love whispered in her ear: that she was his special girl and nothing, nothing could ever hurt her while he was there.

And as her pain and confusion retreated she became aware of the feel of his body, warm and vibrant, pressing against her own. The length of him moulded to her as if they were one. Her senses, dulled by what had happened, awoke to new sensations: the scent of his skin; the rubbery feel of his chest beneath the crisp white shirt, and the warmth of his stomach moulded to hers. She felt his lips touch her skin – little butterfly kisses on her forehead and temple, tender kisses that promised more than comfort if she chose to take it.

She turned her face a little, eyes closed, inviting his lips to venture further – to the tip of her nose and to one cheek, and then to the corner of her mouth where they lingered like hot coals upon her trembling flesh, hesitant to move but reluctant to retreat.

And in sudden awareness she understood that if she broke from his embrace now it would finish. They would smile and make an awkward joke to explain the intimacy, and each would wonder for the rest of their lives what might have happened. But within her chest her heart was tripping like a jackhammer and the blood that coursed through her veins did so with desperate sentience. This was her father, loved and respected; but now in a sudden shift of time and space he was also a warm, vibrant male who could give everything her failed love affair had not.

So she lifted her face and kissed him. Gently at first, exploring the taste and feel of each other in this forbidden way. Slow, languorous kisses as sweet as drizzled honey, the moist flesh of their lips touching, touching; the tip of her tongue easing forward to tentatively explore his. A tingle of electricity passed between them, and he heard her sigh of contentment.

He lifted his face from hers and stared down at his little girl, mesmerized by her beauty. He thought this wrong, but in the intimacy of the moment did not want to relinquish the chance to be close. Her eyes were on his, crystal windows into her soul, and he saw that she was willing.

'We shouldn't be doing this,' he murmured. 'I should stop.'

She shook her head in denial and kissed him again, her lips so soft and her breath warm and sweet. A wisp of her hair tickled his face and he reached up and stroked her head, the strands sleek under his fingertips. Their kisses became bolder, the tips of their tongues probing each other's mouths. Ash could feel her nipples stiffening and the bloom of moisture in her pants, and she was aware of a bulge pressing against her belly as his cock stiffened. A wave of white-hot passion surged though her.

'I need you Daddy,' she moaned. Her mouth was on his, the words muffled. 'I need you so much.'

'I want you too, honey.' His hands were in her hair, grasping her head as he kissed her. Hot kisses into her mouth, his breath rasping as their desire flared.

'Touch me,' she begged. 'Make me happy again.'

His hands moved quickly to her breasts, feeling their tips as hard as pebbles against his palms. He tore at the buttons on her blouse, ripping them open to allow his fingers to grasp each wondrous globe. The flesh was as firm as a ripe peach and the nipples pink and swollen with desire. She moaned again at his touch, her back arching to better thrust against him. Her pussy was like a furnace and she ground it against the bulge in his trousers, but it was at the wrong angle. She fumbled at his belt, her fingers frantically opening the buckle, tearing aside the button beneath it. The zip jammed against his shirt and she groaned in frustration.

Brett Channing lifted his daughter onto the kitchen workbench beside him. She stared at him with hungry eyes as he plunged his face between her legs, his evening stubble rough against the soft white skin of her thighs. She lifted her skirt to afford him better access and watched as he thrust his mouth against her panties, his tongue lapping at the gusset to harvest the moisture there. His senses were filled with by her – the sweet scent of her perfume juxtaposed with the warm, animal aroma of her sex; the satin feel of her thighs against his cheeks and the sweet sound of her sighs.

He had seen her grow from a child to a woman; watched as she began to date young men whom he judged shallow and worthless. He had lain awake at night terrified she would squander her grace and beauty on those who could not possibly know what she was truly worth – and he had dreamed how, if he could have met her in other circumstances, he would have been the one to give her the kind of love she deserved. But she was his daughter and was untouchable, and so he had watched with an aching heart each day, terrified of the hurt he knew life would inflict.

But now, in a bewildering space of time, the silent barriers of social stigma had been shattered and the dreams of yesteryear were suddenly fanned by a flame so fierce he could hardly breathe. He wrenched aside the gusset of her panties and regarded her vulva for a moment. The lips were swollen and smeared with a sheen of love-juice, and between them he could see the coral-pink flesh of her cunt. The heat radiated from between her legs like a furnace and with a little cry he buried his face into her core, delighting in the soft press of her labia and the slippery ooze of her juices on his cheeks.

Ash regarded the reflection in the glass doors opposite: of a young girl on the kitchen workbench, head thrust back and mouth open in silent supplication. She saw the girl's thighs spread wide to accommodate the figure between them, saw his head moving as his tongue lapped at her sex. Surely that could not be her?

And yet every time the girl twitched she did too, and with every movement of the man's head she felt a corresponding wave of pleasure surge through her body, like breakers on a hidden reef. She looked down to see her father's face there, eyes closed and cheeks glistening with her cream. She saw her hands in his hair, guiding him, holding him to better feel his tongue inside her, and she heard the little sounds of their union as her cunt poured like a river into his mouth.

The image triggered her first orgasm – a little one, crashing down on her unexpectedly. She clutched at his head as it consumed her and her body arched like a bow, her limbs twitching; and then it was past and her father's face appeared, smeared with her juice. They stared at one another for a moment before he kissed her again, and she could taste herself on his lips.

'Do it, Daddy,' Ash said. Her voice was hoarse with passion. 'Do it to me.' She watched as he shucked his belt, sliding his pants over his hips. His cock bobbed free and she saw the helmet was fully revealed and a strand of moisture oozed from its eye. The image fanned her need for him even further and she grasped his waist and drew him towards his prize.

But the workbench was too high and so she scrambled onto the bar stool, lifting her skirt and thrusting her loins forward to receive his shaft. She saw the tip against her wet flesh, the plum-coloured head darker than the pale pink of her vulva; and she watched as it sank smoothly into her body. The shaft was thicker than those she had had before, and she was conscious of a stretching sensation as it levered aside the tight walls of her tube. She grunted as it entered her, a long drawn-out sound almost primeval in its intensity, and her hands fluttered on his hips.