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It was a mild, wet, mud-scented sort of evening—even in the city, where you’d have thought all the fumes would overpower any hints of sodden leaves or gentle breezes, autumn was so present you could almost reach out and touch it—and Noelle was in a perhaps uncharacteristically good mood.
Mam had put a film on before she’d gone out; Noelle was rather too drowsy to pay much attention to the plot, but she could hear the voices burbling pleasantly in the background, she had tucked herself into a corner of the sofa and the room was dim and warm. It was nice.
And Lisa was there.
Noelle was doing rather a good job of ignoring this fact, but she could still feel her sister’s presence like a bruise and also, crucially, said sister was leaning into her side, her body limp and warm and a little bony.
As usual, God was playing some sort of sick joke on her, because as soon as she had decided that actually, this wasn’t so bad after all, even though her sister’s thoughtless intimacy would more often drive her into a wrath she didn’t want to examine, something in the air around Lisa shifted minutely, gracelessly jolting Noelle out of her half-asleep bliss.
The thing was, she knew her sister better than anybody on the planet knew anybody else on the planet. She knew her by the very atmosphere around her. Two of a kind. So she could tell immediately, somewhere in her gut, that Lisa was uncomfortable—and it put her on edge too. She felt herself beginning to scowl.
Lisa moved slightly, trying to be subtle about it. Idiot—she ought to know by now that her sister could always tell when something was up! Noelle huffed. “What?”
Lisa gave her a pitiful sort of look, all pouting lips and drooping eyes. Ghastly, really. “Will you pause it? I need the loo…”
So that was it. Noelle glanced at the telly. Only twenty minutes left, and she was enjoying having it on in the background. And Lisa was an adult now, albeit a very infantile one—surely she could wait! “Fuck no,” Noelle said, very amicably.
“Noelle!” Noelle laughed aloud at the flush of outrage on her sister’s face. “You aren’t even watching it, I know you’re not, I could see you nodding off the whole time!”
“What, are you such a child you can’t even hold on for twenty fucking minutes?”
Lisa’s mouth dropped open. “No—! No, hey, hey, Noelle, c’mon, why won’t you—”
Noelle groaned. “Shut it, you, you’re spoiling the film.” Having given her sister one last properly withering look, she turned back to the screen and that was the end of that.
To begin with, Lisa really was only squirming about in her seat. Pathetic, and annoying, and a little off-putting, but fine. Noelle had missed tormenting her sister like this.
Then it started.
First a shaky breath in, followed by a weak groan, both so quiet Noelle might have thought she’d imagined them were it not for the fact they made all the hairs stand up on the back of her neck at once.
Lisa went silent, after that, and stayed silent for a little while. Still, Noelle avoided looking at her, fearing that she might catch a glimpse of fidgety hands, or pained eyes, or—God forbid!—a bitten lip.
The next sound came like a static shock straight to her spine.
Lisa whimpered, soft and trembling and a little childish, and bucked her hips into the sofa. Noelle could feel it: the girl actually quivering with the effort of holding in her piss, and subconsciously curling closer into Noelle, as if in search of comfort. Noelle, gaze fixed to the TV screen, started to sweat.
It was like every atom of her body had gone still and together turned to face Lisa, rapt. If atoms could be rapt. It was like when you rubbed a balloon on your hair and then pulled it away and the hair followed it. She didn’t need to look at her sister. All her attention was beamed at her with all the heat of the summer sun or some giant fucking laser. It got like this sometimes: the world narrowed to Noelle and Lisa, two human bodies alone in a lonely sea, and she could be doing anything else, looking at anything, and it wouldn’t matter, because the only face in her head, the only voice ringing in her ears, would be her sister’s.
It was in such a state of Lisa-induced weakness that she allowed one of the many thoughts she had been firmly pushing down to enter her head: she wanted, with a bright, earth-shattering clarity, to turn and see what Lisa looked like now. Her mind conjured up all sorts of splendid images from God-knows-where—Lisa chewing on her lip, Lisa’s cheeks pink, Lisa’s face screwed up with the agony of trying not to wet herself, et cetera, et cetera.
That wouldn’t do. The thoughts were swiftly banished. Unfortunately for her sanity, however, Lisa was still there, unbanished, her breathless, choked little whimpers coming more and more frequently and loudly until Noelle was seeing stars.
And God really must have been messing with her, laughing at her from up in the sky, the evil old cunt, because just as she had begun to consider evacuating herself into the bathroom Lisa did something even more unthinkable.
Clumsily, one hand clutching her crotch in desperation, she wriggled away from Noelle, grabbed at her arm—Noelle exclaimed in something verging on abject terror at that—fumbled at her shoulders, scrambled about on the sofa and then very suddenly she was straddling Noelle’s lap.
“What the fuck—” Noelle wasn’t sure any words had come out of her mouth. Just now she had been wondering what Lisa looked like. Well, here was her answer, staring her down, breathing into her face as heavy as a horse. Lisa was a vision—cheeks flushed, lips bitten till they were a bright, eye-catching pink, eyes wide, pupils wide, soft hair flattened to her forehead and plastered against her temples. Hot, too (in the literal sense) burning up everywhere she was touching Noelle—her hands stuck like limpets to her shoulders.
“Please,” she whispered, then louder, “Please, Noelle, just—” The way her voice cracked was almost obscene. She composed herself somewhat. “Listen, I know you’re, like, enjoying torturing me, or something, ‘cos you’re weird like that, but if you don’t let me go now I will piss myself, I really will—”
Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes wide with panic; she looked as if she might actually be holding back tears, her lower lip trembling and eyelashes fluttering erratically. It was so very Lisa. Noelle resisted the urge to brush away the hair from her eyes.
Lisa looked at her imploringly. “Let me go.”
She couldn’t back down now. Noelle forced a smug smile. “No.”
“Fuck you,” Lisa groaned and rocked forwards a little in Noelle’s lap.
At some point—she hadn’t noticed herself doing it, because, of course, it was the easiest thing in the world—Noelle had looped one arm around Lisa’s back, and was now holding her close. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Experimentally, she reached down and put her other hand to Lisa’s stomach, just above the pelvis. Laid it there for a moment, all gentle. Lisa forgot her panic just enough to look confused. Then Noelle pressed down lightly and the body at her fingertips reacted like it had been struck by lightning, a great shudder running through it, head to toe. Lisa choked out another moan, a real one this time, long and strangled, and bucked her hips into Noelle’s. “S’alright,” Noelle murmured. “I’ll help you hold it, yeah?”
Lisa nodded, whimpering. Noelle moved her hand from her sister’s stomach and slipped it between her thighs, palming the thick seams of the denim there; Lisa began to grind into it, bit her lip, clutched Noelle’s shoulders so hard it hurt. “Fuck, Noelle, it’s—”
Noelle had noticed it, the small, warm, wet patch in her jeans, and, before she could stop and dwell on anything, she was rubbing her fingers over it just for the sake of it, just to feel it. Lisa whispered something desperate at that, and, as Noelle moved her hand away, shifted her whole lower body to chase after its touch—which Noelle resolved not to think about either. Soon she was gripping onto the back of Noelle’s neck with both hands and riding her lap with a renewed fervour. It was futile; they both knew it. Still, Noelle moved her hand between her legs again, and kept it there. Lisa dropped her sweaty head to Noelle’s shoulder and Noelle rested her chin on it and she could smell that miraculous baby-smell which had always clung to the top of Lisa’s head, familiar and so very vulnerable.
Lisa keened. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
Noelle said, as kindly as she could muster, “Come on then, kidda.”
All the tension went out of Lisa’s shoulders at once, and she nearly sobbed in relief; Noelle’s heart fluttered like a schoolgirl’s as she felt her sister’s piss come warm and fast over her hand, soaking into her own jeans and then through onto her boxers. Lisa was shaking, panting and moaning, muttering to herself words Noelle couldn’t make out.
Finally she heaved a sigh. Moved back slightly and looked up at Noelle, her face still quite red. Noelle watched her.
Then, in a moment of what could only be described as madness—unthinkable, staggering madness—she lifted her dripping hand to her mouth and licked it.
The sound of her sister’s breath catching in her throat was deafening.
She stared at Noelle blankly for a moment, then leaned forwards, closer, put her face right up to Noelle’s, tilted her face to the left and stayed like that, her hot breath tickling Noelle’s jaw. And fuck, Noelle wanted to kiss her, she really did, with an intensity that terrified her and would likely have terrified Lisa too.
She didn’t move.
They stayed like that for a while, bodies half-melted into each other, burning even as the piss started to cool on their clothes and on their skin. Lisa’s gaze on her lips was almost painful.
At last with a sigh she shifted, unglued her hands from Noelle’s neck, sat back in her lap and looked at her with those remarkable unguarded eyes of hers. Noelle didn’t let it get to her. She said, “C’mon, get off me now,” and gave Lisa’s hips a nudge.
Lisa bit her lower lip. “Noelle—”
She wasn’t letting it get to her. “Go on, go get yourself cleaned up, you’re soaked.”
“So are you.”
Noelle rolled her eyes and gave Lisa’s hips more of a shove than a nudge this time; she stumbled off Noelle’s lap. Noelle stood. “I’m going to shower.” Before Lisa could say something like, “You just pushed me off telling me to get myself cleaned up and now you’re getting in the fucking shower before me?” she fled.
Once there she collapsed, breathless, something bitter clinging to the wet patches on her clothes and souring her mouth. Didn’t stop her, though, from fingering herself, there on the bathroom floor, to the thought of her pretty little sister with her pretty little jeans all soaked in her own piss. That image was Noelle’s and Noelle’s only.
She came fast and guilty, and when she showered she scrubbed more carefully than usual, for fear that, when she came out, Lisa would see it all on her.