Fuck Chicago, I thought bitterly. The City of Winds, yes ... and sudden, wildly inconvenient snowstorms in the middle of winter. I had been planning on flying out to tropical Fiji on a business convention for pharmacy assistants, all expenses paid there and back- but in my case, I was going to stay on a week longer. I'd been especially looking forward to soaking up the sun and enjoying some kava before returning to the icy grip of home.
But no. We couldn't have that, could we? So out of nowhere had come a cold snap, followed by a convection of humid air from down South, followed by a light snowfall that had triggered my current nightmare. The runways were considered too icy to launch from, the gusting winds too random to take flight in. Everything was cancelled, and we'd been only five minutes from taking to the air.
And now I'd been waiting to get my luggage back. Half an hour to haphazardly toss it into the cargo compartments, but more than three times that to unload them and sort out the mess. Typical. So whilst I waited, I ordered myself a sad little cocktail, drank to the memory of my cancelled vacation, and called around to let my parents and brother know what had gone wrong.
My parents had actually left that morning, travelling on their own winter getaway by train, travelling to perennially-sunny California. That left just Sean at home; whilst my parents answered their mobile and were appropriately supportive, the home line was engaged, so I left a message.
Getting back was a chore in and of itself. With the chaos of so many flights being cancelled at once, just making my way to an exit was difficult enough, but then I had to jockey for the attentions of a cab driver. Ordinarily I would turn on the charm, but the winter weather precluded that simple expedient, leaving me shivering in the cold. Eventually, though, I made it to the front of the line, fended off some impatient challengers, and headed for the family seat.
Shivering outside the front door, I stamped my feet and fought with numb fingers to get the keys in and turn the lock. Dragging my luggage inside, I abandoned them by the front door, shook off my coat, and peeled back my outer layers of clothing, luxuriating in the warmth of ducted heating. Taking a moment to catch my breath and rub some life into my chilled hands and nose, I noticed something unusual.
The lights were dimmed, but I could see candles flickering by the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. Not only that, but as my olfactory senses warmed back to life, I could smell the delicate scent of roses. Frowning curiously, I wandered over to the staircase, finding a folded note at its base, before a path of rose petals leading upwards.
Hey, babe, it said. I know you've had a tough week and today didn't work out the way you planned. So here's a bit of a surprise, from me to you. S.
I was taken aback. Sean had always doted on me, but this was new, even from him. I'd always been the younger sister, the one he watched vigilantly over, but lately I'd been wondering...
Well, no. That was just insane. Brothers just don't feel that way towards their sisters, do they? All the little compliments, his smiles and the frequent embraces we traded, it all had to be innocent, didn't it?
But truth be told, I rather wished they weren't. After all, were we not siblings, I'd have jumped Sean long, long ago. He was tall, athletic but not heavily muscled, and with dark-brown, shoulder length hair that he was always careful to style into place. Left untamed, it had a tendency to curl; I liked it better that way, longed to run my fingers through it, but he thought it made him look like he was wearing a bad powdered wig. And at an even six feet, he towered over my diminutive 5 feet and six inches.
Holding the note, I started up the stairs, following the carpet of red petals. I wondered briefly how much this gesture had set him back; red roses are hardly cheap, and there seemed to be rather a lot of them strewn about. The path wound around a few corners, down the hall, and into the bathroom my brother and I shared.
Inside, there were at least thirty candles, many pink and rose-scented. The bath was drawn, still steaming hot and with a layer of bubbles. There was another note on the counter top, beside an empty silver bucket and a bowl of expensive, individually-wrapped Belgian chocolate.
Make yourself comfortable, gorgeous. Call me when you're in, and I'll bring the champagne.
Gorgeous? I thought. Hardly. But then ... well, I was standing in front of the mirror, so I tried to see what he saw in me. I was only of average height, and I'd inherited all the Scots genes the family had to offer; green eyes, auburn hair, and pale skin dusted with freckles. Like all redheads, I had to worry about the sun, but at least in my case it seemed only to add to my freckle collection. I smiled experimentally, thrust my chest out; I at least took after my mother, with the soft swell of C-cup breasts straining now beneath my knitted jumper. About the only thing I really appreciated in my looks, though, were my eyes; green with gold flecks, they always drew compliments.
Popping a chocolate in my mouth, savouring its flavour, I hurriedly undressed, slipping into the bath tub. As I felt my tension unwind, I called out to my brother.
I heard something crash, then the creak of his door and soft footfalls until he peered around the lintel of the door. I'd settled in carefully, my breasts slightly buoyant in the scented water, making sure that I was decent. Even so, the constraints of the bath kept me from sinking too far beneath the waterline, and I wondered if Sean appreciated the sight of my pale, milky cleavage.
"Uh," he started.
I cut him off. "Thanks, Sean. Really. This was just what I needed. And it was so very considerate of you. Champagne," I added as though an afterthought, "would be great. Bring two glasses up, though, I hate drinking alone."
He flushed, then nodded, heading off on his assigned errand. A few minutes later he returned, dumped some ice into the silver bucket, carefully measured out two glasses of bubbly, and handed one to me. As he did, I looked down, careful to ensure my modesty was intact beneath the bath water. Thankfully, it held.
He flipped the upper lid of the wooden toilet seat down, sitting on it with wineglass in hand. He sipped it as we talked, but after the stresses of my cancellation I went through it rapidly. It was after my second glass that I realised I had become aroused, and spurred on by the alcohol I began to run my fingers through my soft folds, gently stimulating myself. I imagined Sean ripping his clothes off in an impassioned frenzy, hauling me out of the bath and taking me there, on the tiles, bringing me to climax after climax after climax.
Clamping my thighs together, I tried and failed to banish that delicious thought. A door had been opened, and now I saw Sean not as a brother, but as a man. A fine man, who would make a strong and suitable mate...