From: pleasecain@aol.com (PleaseCain)
Reply-To: pleasecain@aol.com (PleaseCain)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: TO JOY: Rollo and Jeanette Are Dead
Date: 30 Sep 1995 14:56:27 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Message-ID: <44k3sr$mq7@newsbf02.news.aol.com>

EXPLICIT MATERIAL FOR ADULTS ONLY.ROLLO AND JEANETTE ARE DEADIt was four or five in the morning,but still very hot. The hair on myarm was matted and saturated withsweat, but I wiped my forehead on itall the same.I lit another cigarette just as anexcuse to stay outside. I didn't evenwant it; my throat stank with theaftertaste of an entire pack already.But even as the pitch sky was brokenby a thin line of baby blue to theeast, I had to sit out here a fewminutes more.  Inside, it was so hotand stifling, it was a madhouse. AndI had to try to remember, before Iwent back in.But for the life of me, I couldn't. Icouldn't remember what they said. Imean, their words. I couldn'tremember their exact words, any ofthem. Or the good times we spenttogether. I remembered a few, but nottwenty-six years' worth. We got alongfine. There should have been plentymore, but I couldn't recall.I had just spoken to her on the phonea few weeks before. And there I saton the stoop in the muggy night,trying to figure out what her lastwords to me were. Or her laugh. Howcan you forget someone's goddamnedlaugh? His was easy, it was sodistinctive. But I had spent half-an-hour talking on the phone with her,and years before that, and I couldn'tremember the sound of her laughter.I was glad it was closed-caskets,because I sure didn't want toremember them dead. But I wasn't toothrilled with this vacuum of memorythat I felt now either. Maybe a fewmorose recollections of death mightbe better than emptiness.And at least Mom and Dad weren'taround to see this. It would'vekilled them, to outlive theirchildren, their two eldest. Theachievers of the family, that's whatDad used to call them whenever I wasaround. He made sure I'd hear, too.God, if anything were to happen toJoy. . . . We were always closer justbecause we were so much younger thaneveryone else. I never bought any ofthat bullshit about bonding and twinsand stuff. I've just always thoughtthat because we were younger that wewere a little more protective of eachother, that we could trust each othermore and share confidences with eachother. Suddenly, it was like she wasall I had left.I tossed my cigarette and went insideand locked the door. The air withinwas thick and stuffy.Joy was taking it pretty bad. When Imet her at the airport, she seemednumb and freaked out. And distant,like she would burst at any moment.She finally did at the service. Shewas hysterical, and she wouldn't letgo of me throughout. She had beensick all day since we got back to myapartment. She threw up a couple oftimes, then laid down and never gotup. I checked on her a lot, butotherwise I felt helpless. She lookedso broken.She lay there in the dim blue light,motionless but for the occasionalwave of her hair in the current ofthe fan. I silently walked over tothe nightstand to get the emptyglass, and I filled it with coldwater.I needed some sleep, but first Ineeded a shower, to wash away thesweat and grime from my body, and theconfusion from my mind. I stood in cool water, letting itwash over me, wash away this day, andcarry it down the drain. When Ikilled yhe water, I toweled myselfquickly, suddenly anxious to get tobed and sleep away this emptinessthat scared me so.I slipped on a thin pair of boxers,and once again refilled the emptywater glass next to Joy. She hadrolled over, and I studied her faceas she slept. Her brows was tense,her lips tightly drawn.I lay down along the opposite edge ofthe bed. In the stillness, as Ifeared, my emotions rushed to thefore. I felt so sorry for her. I feltso alone. I rolled over beside her,wrapped my arms around her, andspooned my body behind hers. Hernightgown was wet with sweat. . . .A lawnmower is humming somewhereoutside. It's daylight, and hot.We are lying tightly against oneanother. Her head is resting on mine,deep breaths on my shoulder. We arehugging each other. Our limbs areintertwined. My toes are touchinghers.My hands brush down against bareskin. I open my eyes a little.Through her hair, I see in my armsher nude back and her ass.I don't know if I jumped, but she'srustling in her sleep. Her headburrows deeper into my shoulder, herknee bends forward, her hips pushagainst mine. I feel the pressure ofher pubic bone, and the brush of hairagainst . . . I feel my cock, nakedand erect, pressed between us. Iclose my eyes and try to think.