John Kellerman: Sisters in heat

She spit out the white froth and held her toothbrush under the faucet. Her breasts tingled. Her cunt had become damp, warm and damp and slick feeling. Marcia blotted the white from her lips and padded downstairs.

Robin was staring out the window as Marcia came in the kitchen. Marcia put on some coffee and punched two slices of bread in the toaster.

Robin didn't turn around, didn't say anything. Marcia went over… touched her arm.

"What's wrong with you?"

Robin turned around then. Her eyes were red from crying and a droplet hung from her eyelash.

"Hey, something is wrong, isn't it?" Marcia insisted.

"Naw. Nothing." Robin pulled in a shuddery breath and went down the hall to her room.

Marcia shrugged, dug to get a cigarette out of her pocket, then shoved it back again. She poured the coffee when it boiled and buttered the toast. It was bright and warm outside. She thought of her younger sister. What could Robin possibly have to worry about?

Marcia burned her tongue on the coffee. If only her own life were as simple as Robin's. Robin seemed to never have troubles with boys, never got wrought up over anything it seemed. Maybe she was having a bad time with her period.

Marcia shook her head, smiled. Big deal. Robin didn't know how good she had things.

Marcia thought of frying an egg, but she was too upset to be very hungry. She had to get out for a while. She went back to Robin's room and found her sister sobbing quietly on the bed. They'd never been very close, but the fact that she was a female brought a rush of sympathy to Marcia.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" She touched Robin's shoulders. "Having a bad period?"

"Huh-uh. I'm okay."

Marcia rubbed Robin gently between the shoulder blades. "Did that guy who called… did he say anything when you told him I was asleep?"

Robin sniffled noisily, wiped a hand under her nose. "Naw. He just kinda laughed. He the guy you dated last night?"

Marcia stood up. "Yeah."

Marcia suddenly felt scared. When Sam laughed, there usually wasn't anything funny about it.

Marcia gave Robin a final pat and went back to the kitchen. She stood in the middle of the floor, picking at a hangnail, thinking. Then she hurried out of the house and turned down the walk toward the shopping center. She didn't want to be around in case Sam dropped by. But she hadn't made three blocks when she saw his car round the corner and descend upon her.

She tried to smile as Sam braked, but she knew it looked forced.

"Hey there, good-lookin. I thought you were still wiped out from last night. Your little sis said so."

"I have some things to shop for. I was just…"

Sam leaned across and opened the door. "Get in."

Marcia got in. She smelled the leather seats, the cologne Sam used. He was wearing sharply creased flared pants. The stitching looked expensive. His shirt was open at the neck. Black chest hair curled out like wire. The diamond on his finger twinkled as he shifted and moved the Lincoln away from the curb.

"Where's your watch, baby?"

"Oh… I… well, it's right here." She pulled it from her pocket. "I was afraid I might scratch it if I wore it…"

"I like you to wear it." Sam shifted and the engine purred powerfully as the Lincoln gained speed. Sam glanced at her, looked at the watch in her palm. "Put it on. I like to see it on your body. I like it touching your skin."

Marcia smiled thinly, opened the band and slipped the heavy watch onto her wrist. She found herself holding her breath.

Sam put a hand an her knee as he drove towards the shopping center. Her flesh crawled under his palm. She was thankful for the layer of denim which separated her flesh from Sam's fingers.

"The boys were really kidding me about you last night."

"Oh?" Marcia looked longingly at the passing sidewalk. She wished she were alone, safely out of sight from Sam's snake eyes. What had she seen in him that first time anyway? Why had she been so stupid as to date him?

"Yeah. They said I was going to get the truant officer uptight. They thought you were high-school stuff. Then I want to tell them you'd been to college."

"Just part of a year…" The Lincoln was cruising quickly by the shopping center. "Sam, I want to do some shopping here."

"Thought we might drop by my room at the Hilton first. Have a drink, have a little lunch sent up."

"I think that would be lovely, but I just don't have time today, I…"

"You can change your mind."

Marcia opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again. Her heart was racing. Surely he could hear it. He liked to scare her. She twisted her fingers together and bit her bottom lip.

Sam looped onto the freeway, then looped off again. A black doorman saluted at the Hilton entrance and a runner came to take the car away. The black man was young with a pencil-thin mustache and keen, brown eyes. He gave Marcia a long look, then squinted at Sam.

Marcia knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that she was some hooker with a co-ed style front. She could work without so much hassle that way. Marcia tried to give the doorman a very unwhorelike smile but it didn't seem to work. He sucked a tooth and moved off to an incoming taxicab.

Marcia was barely conscious of the elevator ride, of the long walk down the silent, carpeted hall. She felt like a slave. Her hands were damp with sweat and she was dizzy.

Then the door closed behind her and Sam was making her a drink. She sipped it, then swallowed more down. Anything to kill the jumpiness.

"You're not as scared as you're acting," Sam said, holding his glass in one hand as he unbuttoned his shirt with the other.

Marcia couldn't think of a thing to say. She looked toward the door. She might just make it. Sam stepped in front of her. She gulped her drink greedily. The alcohol was already getting into her blood. He took the glass from her fingers and put it on the table.

"Take off those jeans, college girl." His voice was low and even and tinged with meanness. And he smiled the whole time.

"Sam, I don't feel like… like doing anything. I told you yesterday. I didn't have any way to keep from getting pregnant."

He held her chin up. She had to let him kiss her. There was no way out of it. The kiss wasn't too awful. At least he didn't shove his tongue into her mouth.

"We haven't even had a good old-fashioned fuck yet," he said, smiling coldly.

Marcia dropped her eyes at the sound of that word.

"Take off your clothes."

"I want to leave."

This time Sam pinned her arms at her side and kissed her neck savagely. He was stronger than she'd thought. She couldn't free her hands, couldn't twist away. He shoved a thigh between hers and rubbed it across her cunt.

Marcia's jeans rode up tight against her cuntlips, flattening them back to expose her clit to damp silk. Sam rubbed again, his mouth wetting the soft flesh below her ear. She was being affected, but held back. It was merely a mechanical reaction. Sam knew all the right places, the erogenous zones. That didn't make her hate him any less.

"Off!"

He had her jeans unbuttoned, was yanking them down.

Marcia started pulling them back up.

He hit her, not hard enough to hurt bad but the shock, the sharpness of it sent her backwards on her heels. The edge of the bed caught her behind the knees and she sat down. Sam pushed her down and yanked at her jeans again.

Marcia cried out and tried to catch at them, but they were to her knees already. She bent her legs, tried to keep herself dressed. It was too late.

Sam stood with the jeans twisted in his hands, gloating. Marcia was determined that he wouldn't get her panties off, damn him. She was trembling terribly and wished she was better able to hide her fear. Sam seemed to enjoy that more than anything else. He grasped her panties and stripped them down easily.