A. Jacks - Two-way Lust

Jace lifted her chin. “I still love you, Melinda. I still want you as a woman. But it’s something we have to forget. We have to live our own lives now. All we can have is what other brothers and sisters have.”

“I know,” she said, still not wanting to accept it, to let everything they shared slip away. “Kiss me once more, Jace. Please, kiss me.”

He did, long and hard, letting her know that his words weren’t just words, but real feelings that still tore him up inside. For minutes they clung to one another, man and woman, brother and sister. When their lips parted, so did their hands.

Apart, separate, two individuals, they walked back to the car. In silence, neither looking at the other, they drove back to the house.

That evening, Susan was even more perplexed by the strange rift that had come between Jace and Melinda. Still she did, not question either of them, afraid her own secret might come to light. Whatever it was, she was sure the brother and sister could work it out between themselves.

The next morning, before Jace and Susan rose from the bed they now shared, Melinda called a taxi, packed her bags and left.

Melinda carefully placed a stack of photos on Alan Cear’s desk. Her boss, busily slipping prints into envelopes, then addressing them, didn’t look up.

“That’s the last of the Farley prints, Alan,” she said. “Can I help with the envelopes?”

Alan glanced up at the clock — 10 P.M.. “Melinda, you’re something else! One of the best photographers I’ve found in this area and one hell of a hard worker. I can’t thank you enough for helping me out tonight.”

“That’s all right,” she replied. “I didn’t have anything else planned for tonight. Now do you need me to help with the envelopes?”

“Enough is enough,” Alan answered with a shake of his head. “You’re really unbelievable, you know. The only trouble is, I get the distinct feeling that one of these days you’re going to walk out of here and start a photography studio of your own.”

“I am,” Melinda said, totally serious.

“Any way I can persuade you not to?”

“Make me a full partner in this one.”

The man looked at her, seeing she was serious. “I’ve thought of that. But 10 P.M. Friday night isn’t the time to discuss it. How about Monday morning?”

“Alan, are you playing games with me?”

“No, I’m trying to protect a business it’s taken me ten years to establish in this town,” the older man said. “If you ever set up shop by yourself, you just might drive me out of business. Now, get the hell out of here, enjoy the weekend, and I’ll talk with you Monday morning.”

“You got it, bossman,” she said giving him a hug.

“Partner,” he corrected. “Now go home and get some rest.”

“Yes, sir!” Melinda saluted him, then left the studio. That familiar hollow feeling returned to her when she closed the door behind her. She glanced at her car, thought of her apartment and shivered. For six months, since the day she left Jace and Susan, she had dreaded returning to the loneliness of her apartment. The only time she seemed to escape the feeling was when she worked.

“Friday night, the weekend,” she said aloud to herself when she climbed into the car and started it. “A girl shouldn’t be alone on the weekend.”

She pulled from the parking lot and wheeled onto the street. At first, she thought she would eventually adjust to Jace’s rejection, that they might be able to live as a normal brother and sister. But since Jace’s marriage four months ago, her brother had grown even more distant. She hadn’t seen him in three months and he seemed happy with things that way.

Melinda remembered her numerous ventures to the town’s few singles bars. She didn’t mind finding a man for a one-night stand. She was a healthy woman who needed and enjoyed sex — hell, she loved it. But, to date, the singles bars hadn’t produced one man. Sure she found partners to share her bed for a night, but they weren’t men. They were boys, caring little that they satisfied her, only that they had a vagina to blow their loads into. She only made her way to the disco scene now when that deep itchy urge between her thighs could no longer be eased with a dildo.

Jace, and then Robert, and their similar sexual appetites had spoiled her. She couldn’t be satisfied by a male who simply climbed atop her naked body and humped his cock into her cunt until he came. She needed more, needed a real man.

Deciding to take a shortcut home, she wheeled her car through the town’s business district. The office buildings loomed above her; the streets were deserted. The scene only added to her depressed mood.

She wished she were back at school. There, at least, she had an easy way to meet men. The business world, especially the world of photographers only provided an endless line of males who were interested in a quickie fuck to boost their male egos. She didn’t mind married men. She did mind the impression they always left that they were doing something dirty, something wicked. Sex wasn’t dirty to her and she didn’t like helping them participate in their little games.

The engine of her car coughed and sputtered. Then it died.

Melinda eased the gliding car over to the curb and parked. Repeatedly she tried to start the motor, but with no success. Finally giving up, she glanced around her. The emptiness of the streets brought an unreasoning chill to her spine.

At the end of the block came a dim light from a telephone booth. She remembered all the safety rules about driver in distress, but she didn’t feel like waiting in the car until some patrol car came by. She didn’t want to spend the night locked in the car worrying about muggers and rapists. Setter to call a service station and get some help.

Checking her purse, she found three quarters, enough for three calls. Sucking in a deep breath and trying to banish images of assailants hiding in the shadows, she walked to the phone.

“Sorry, lady, we can’t help you,” the first service station attendant said. “We are only a self-service station.”

The second refused to help, explaining he closed in five minutes and didn’t have an assistant to leave at the station while he drove to find her.

Looking at her last quarter, Melinda ran her finger over the service stations listed in the yellow pages. None of them seemed to offer a promise of aid. It wasn’t worth the risk of wasting her last quarter. She bit her lower lip and decided to do what she dreaded.

Depositing her last quarter, she dialed Jace’s number.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Melinda felt her stomach sink.

What if Susan and Jace were in the city, or out to a movie.

Four, five. Maybe Alan was still at the office? Six, seven.

“Hello,” a man’s voice came over the receiver.

“Jace,” she said, feeling uneasy about talking with her brother, “this is Melinda, my car’s broken down near the corner of Wattson and Green. I can’t get a wrecker out to help me.”

“Who is this? I missed your name?”

“Who is this?” Melinda realized she wasn’t talking with Jace. “Is this the Tuning residence?”

“Yes, this is Phil Howard, Susan’s brother,” the voice said. “Jace and Susan are in the city for the evening. They won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh,” Melinda mumbled.

“Who is this?” Phil Howard asked again.

“Melinda… Melinda Tuning, Jace’s sister,” she said, trying to think of something to do.

“And your car’s broke down at the corner of Watson and Green,” he said. “If you don’t mind a stranger helping out, I’d be glad to stand in for Jace. I’m not a super mechanic, but I’d be glad to see what I can do.”