I brought up the email site and typed in a name and password no one could guess were mine. There was a message waiting, from her.

It opened, "My Beloved Claire,"

I smiled. She was such a hopeless romantic. It was always "beloved" this and "angel" that. But still -- I didn't mind. I was indeed her beloved, and she mine.

The message continued, "Not much time to write. The plans have changed. I will be in town this weekend, just Saturday, then on to Singapore for three months. This is a huge client, and I can't say no. I must see you two on Saturday. I think I will die otherwise."

As I said, hopeless romantic.

It concluded, "Love Vanessa.

"P.S. Kiss your sister for me."

She always concluded that way. I mean, after a hundred messages, should it not go without saying? For her, however, it was no mere formality. I went to Emily's room to give her Vanessa's kiss.

Emily was now fourteen. To look at, she and I could not be more different. She had cropped brown hair and was wearing red soccer shorts and a sky-blue t-shirt. There was a long red scratch, this time on her left elbow, but on any other day it might be a shoulder or a knee. She lay face down on her bed listening to her iPod. I could hear it blaring, even through the tiny headphones. Her room was not at all girly. The walls were azure blue. There were posters of soccer and tennis stars, all of them attractive, both women and men.

I crept in, closing the door behind me. I saw myself in Emily's mirror, wearing a white cotton blouse under a black jumper dress. My hair was black, shoulder length, and curled into ringlets. I smiled, staring back at myself with icy blue eyes. I was now sixteen.

I snuck up behind her and plucked out the earbuds. She flipped over. I gave her Vanessa's kiss, and a few of my own. Her lips were soft.

She smiled, wrapped her arms around my neck, and returned the kisses. Then she said, "We have to be careful. Mom is home, and Mirielle is prowling around."

"I know," I whispered, "I just got an email from Vanessa. She's coming to town, Saturday."

"Yes!" That was loud. Her eyes got wide, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

I smiled. She was such an eager girl.

"I assume she'll get the motel room, but we have to keep the day clear. I don't think mom has anything planned."

Her arms were still around my neck, and she leaned up and kissed me again. So enthusiastic. I looked at the closed door. We didn't have locks; mother didn't believe in them.

Soft lips. A mouth wrapped around mine. Her tongue. My hand went to her ass, pressing the fabric in. I found that spot and wiggled my finger. She tensed up. She stretched out, catlike, and rolled over onto her tummy.

I looked at the door again. Was it worth the chance? We'd gotten away with this for two years, and not by being stupid.

Her ass, in front of me, in her soft cotton shorts. I thought of biting into a juicy peach. I decided, just this once, to take the chance.

The shorts were stretchy enough. I grabbed them around the crotch area and pulled them up between her cheeks. I tugged on them a bit. She rocked her hips. I kissed her there, around the edges of the fabric. I breathed deeply. I ran my tongue up and down.

"Please take off the shorts."

I pulled them down and off. I spread her cheeks again. I gazed at her little pinkish asshole, perfectly round. I licked.

"Mmmmm. You always make my butthole feel so good."

"I love it. I wish I could climb inside and squirm around, just nestle in there. Do you mind my little fetish?"

I kissed it. She gasped.

"No."

Of course she didn't. About this thing, she and I were of one mind.

I licked more, pressing my tongue, tasting her. I could spend forever that way, as long as it took. However, mother was home, and Mirielle was prowling about, so I lowered my tongue and licked her pussy. That would take less time. I sucked it. I slipped my tongue inside. Then to her ass again, where I truly longed to be. A finger in her pussy, a gentle pumping motion, and an eager tongue, brought her home. She came hard, gasping and thrashing about.

There was a knock on the door.

"Girls?"

Our mother's voice!

No time to grab her shorts, Emily rolled over and pulled the sheets over her. I stood up and away from the bed, wiping my face on my sleeve. I'm sure my mouth still smelled of pussy and ass.

We stared at the door handle. It didn't turn.

"Girls," she said again through the door, "Lunch is ready. Please come down."

"OK mom, we'll be right down," I called out.

"Fine."

We heard footsteps recede down the stairs.

Whew!

The four of us sat around the kitchen table eating cold turkey sandwiches and chips. Mother sat at the end, tall and imperious with her classroom manner. She was holding up well for a woman her age, a shade past forty. Today she was wearing gray form fitting slacks and a loose white blouse, unbuttoned to show cleavage. Her hair was brown, Emily's shade, but she wore it long. She had my icy blue eyes -- or I had hers. It was obvious she clung to what sex appeal she had left, but it worked.

Mirielle, on the other hand, was an ice cold beauty, alluring, dangerous. She was twenty-two or twenty-three, with long sandy blonde hair and deep brown eyes. Her mouth was pouty and she had colored her lips a deep sangria red. Her little black pencil skirt stopped six inches above her knees and showed just enough thigh to make a girl quiver. Her red blouse, like mother's, showed cleavage. Her heeled boots, black leather, went almost to her knees.

She was one of mother's TA's, and had been spending a lot of time at our house the past few months. The story went that she had been born in France, but had come to America as a young girl. Majoring in French Literature, under mother's tutelage, was sort of a cultural homecoming for her -- I guess. Emily and I suspected there was more going on.

"So, how are you girls today?" she asked, her voiced clipped, with a slight continental flair. I thought it sounded a bit fake, but could forgive her for it.

"Fine."

"So, were you having fun playing up stairs?"

"Huh?"

"Playing. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I guess."

I didn't like the way she was looking at us. It was too intense. Did she know?

Mother interrupted. "Girls, Mirielle and I have an announcement to make. I think it's very important."

Here it comes, I thought. She will tell us she's a lesbian. She will expect us to be shocked and confused. After all, we have such innocent minds. I sat, feeling quite pleasant, waiting for the news.

"We've rented a cabin in the Catskills for the weekend and the four of us are going up. We have a lot to talk about."

Fuck!

Mirielle sat smiling. "Brenda and I are looking so forward to spending time with you."

"Brenda" she called her, my mother. A few weeks ago it was, "Ms. Sommers."

Emily looked panicked. "I can't go!"

"Why not, dear?" mother asked.

"I ... uh ... have a school project."

She was a terrible liar. Mother would check on that, call her teachers to have the project delayed. When there was no project, she would wonder at the lie. Suspicions would arise. We'd get caught.

"No sweetie," I said, "That project isn't due until two weeks from now. You're confused."

I gave her a hard look. "Trust me", it said. I would find a way out of this, but it had to be subtle.

"That's settled then," mother went on, "We'll leave Friday after you two get out of school. I've already canceled my afternoon appointments."

Mirielle gave me a long, knowing smile.

I thought of my dear Vanessa. I thought of her eyes. Her mouth. Her tongue! I swore I would find a way out of this.

Later, while I lay in bed, Mirielle came in. She closed the door behind her.

"Brenda went out for a bit," she said.

"OK."

She walked to the center of the room. She looked at my stuff.

"You have a good sense of color. Perhaps you should be an artist."

She was full of shit. My room was done up in black, white, and lavender. It was lovely enough, but nothing mind blowing. I lay back, my arms behind my head, and watched her.

She watched me back. I knew that look. She had beautiful eyes.

"So you're fucking my mother."

"Hmm. So you're fucking your sister."

The game was on!

"How did you find out?"

"I was listening at the door before Brenda called you for lunch."

Damn! I swore to myself, just then, that I would feel no regret.

"Perhaps we're were just playing at it."

She smiled. "I'm not stupid. I know what I heard."

"So, you know. What now?"

"I want you."

Of course she did. They all did.

"Blackmail then? It won't work. Emily and I will just deny it. We will seem hurt and confused. Mother will believe us, and decide you're insane."

"You could pull that off, but could Emily? You saw her performance in the kitchen. She's terrible under pressure."

"I'll coach her. Mother just won't want to believe it."

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps not."

She smiled at me. I waited.

"But blackmail is so -- coarse -- horrible. Let's agree there will be no blackmail. I won't tell her."

"OK. I'm fine with that. Now what?"

"I still want you. What must I do to get you?"

She gazed at me. Such simple words she said, but I could feel the effect of her presence. She was beautiful. Her deep brown eyes. Such a hot body. And that pencil skirt! Fuck!

She was a practiced seductress. It was transparent to me. But then again, was it so bad, being seduced?

"Cancel the weekend trip. Promise it's off, and you can have me, just this one time."

She thought about that. "Brenda will be so sad. Why do you girls want to cancel it so badly?"

Every so often her French accent sounded real. It did that time.

"We have our reasons. Will you do it? Do you promise?"

"Just one time?"

"Just once."

"But I want more."

She gazed at me. The was something lurid behind her eyes. It was very attractive.

"You get one time for this. You want more, we'll deal later."

She smiled. Inside, I surrendered to it.

"Alright, I'll tell Brenda that my mother just called and I have to see her this weekend. She's sick, it turns out. Brenda will believe that."

"Very well. Now kiss me."

She kissed me. She leaned over the bed. I sat up, halfway. She pulled me up the rest, and locked her lips to mine. Her mouth was incredible. I felt a warmth spread from my pussy. I pressed in my tongue.

She sat me on the side of the bed, then squatted down in front of me. Her face was level with my chest. She reached forward and grasped my smallish breast, the left one, and gently squeezed my nipple through the fabric of my dress and blouse.

"You're such a little angel."

I felt like a devil. I'd never been with a girl I didn't love before. Only Vanessa and Emily, and they were both precious in my heart. Mirielle was not. I pushed her head back, leaned forward, and spat in her mouth.

This would be fun.

She swallowed my spit and got a big smile. I think it became clear to her just what I was. I hoped very much that she liked ass.

"You're a dirty little girl."

"Shut up and undress me."

She stood me up, squeezing my ass hard. She unclipped the straps of my jumper and slid it down my body. She followed it, sitting on her knees. She was tall and I was short, so she had to contort a bit, but she pressed her face to my pussy, and licked it through my panties.

I held her head and thrust my hips forward. I squirmed a bit. My pussy felt good. My clit was all atwitter. I unbuttoned my blouse, pulled it off, and set it aside.

She raised up again to a squatting position, level with my bare chest. She pulled me in close, sucking my nipples and grabbing my ass. I felt a thrill when her finger passed over my asshole, but it didn't linger. Still, her mouth on my tits felt good. A warmth went down to my tummy, then a bit further. She sucked more, moaning and squirming. Obviously she loved my little pointy tits.

We each have our own thing, our little fetish. Hers was tits. I let her suck. It felt good enough. When it was my turn, I'd have that ass.

She put me back on the bed, still sucking. I relaxed, and let her play. It started to feel pretty great. Vanessa, Emily, and I were ass girls. I'd never had my tits sucked for so long. I wondered if I could climax this way. I'd heard of it.

"You're gonna to make me come doing that."

"God I hope so."

My pussy was tingling untouched. I cheated a bit -- I was a devil girl after all -- and rocked my hips, letting my panties slide over my slit. I felt a tingle pass through my body. Then, slowly, I crept up to the edge of ecstasy. I relaxed, letting the feelings wash over me. Her mouth on my tits was so hot. I was so close. I reached down and squeezed my clit, then cried out. I shook. I felt warm all over. I felt her kissing me.

"That was really cool. I've never got off from just my tits."

She pursed her mouth in theatric disapproval. "Oh, but I saw you grinding your panties and pinching your clit."

I smiled, pretending to look guilty. "But still, that was really cool."

"You wanna to suck mine?"

"Sure."

Why not?

She reached her hands to unbutton her blouse. I grabbed them, stopping her.

"Let me."

I undid the buttons, one my one. She was wearing a lacy indigo underwire bra, one of those that don't really cover anything. Her tits looked nice, well shaped, with puffy pink nipples. I took one in my mouth and sucked. She undid her bra, pulling it out from under my chin, and threw it aside.

I sat with her on the bed and took a nipple into my mouth. I sucked. I ran my tongue around it. I spat on it, and licked it off. Her pleasure became real obvious. She was moaning a lot.

I reached up her skirt, and gently ran a finger up and down her soft, damp panties, but not too much. I wanted to do that tit thing to her, if I could. It was her fetish, and she'd given up her weekend. I licked and sucked. I kissed. I spat more, and kept licking.

"Is this working for you?"

"Yes! Don't stop."

I kind of tickled her pussy, just a bit, and kept sucking her tits. She started getting close, breathing really hard. Then she cried out and shook. Her body slammed back. She twitched, moaned, then twitched again. She lay there panting, looking at me. I gave her a big, wicked grin.

"Turn over. I gave you that. Now I get your ass."

Her eyes got real big. I don't think she quite expected that. However, she did what she was told.

I unzipped her sexy little skirt and pulled it off. Her panties were the same lacy indigo as her bra. I kissed her through them -- kissed her there -- then pulled them off.

What a wonderful ass she had. Round. A bit fleshy, but still firm. I spread her cheeks and gazed upon her asshole. It was a little brown circle, slightly plump at the edges, perfect.

"You're a kinky little beast, aren't you?"

I didn't answer. Well -- not with words at least. I licked her delicious asshole instead.

"Oh fuck. Oh god that's fucking amazing!"

Was it possible that no one had ever done this to her before? To see her ass was to want it. To see her asshole was to eat it. I pushed my in tongue as far as it would go, tasting her.

Neither of us heard the footsteps on the stairs. The door slammed open and mother came in. She took one look at us and freaked out. Things got really bad.

"How could you do that with my daughter?" she kept asking.

We were downstairs. Mirielle and I were dressed again, sitting stunned at the kitchen table. Mirielle had no answer. She mumbled "sorry" over and over again.

My mind raced around for something to say and came up empty. I watched, hoping Mirielle wouldn't say too much.

"What's happening?" a small voice muttered from the door.

It was Emily. She'd heard all the yelling, and seen Mirielle run by naked. I'm sure she knew basically what was going on. Mother just shouted, "Go to your room!" She left, looking hurt and confused.

I wanted to follow, to comfort her, but I needed to stay here. Would she hate me? I'd just cheated on her and Vanessa. I feared that's how she'd see it. I couldn't say she was wrong.

Mother shouted, "Get out of my house! Don't ever let me see you again. Resign from the college. Today!"

Mirielle looked broken. Her future was slipping away.

"Don't!" I said, "Don't do anything ... official ... permanent."

"She's lucky I don't call the cops."

"I wouldn't testify."

It didn't matter. Mother had seen enough. My testimony wouldn't matter, and I knew it.

Seconds passed. "Do you love her?" Her voice was flat.

"No, of course not."

Then she turned to Mirielle. "How about you? Do you love her? Did you love me?"

Her voice cracked when she asked that last part.

Mirielle didn't answer. She looked like she wanted to say something, but the words were caught in her throat. We sat there, all of us, quiet. More time passed, the calm before the storm. I thought of Vanessa and Emily, and how lucky I was. I had love, and was sure of it. Mother's face grew dark. She waited for something. It didn't come. The storm broke.

She kicked a chair, breaking it. Dishes were thrown. Her blouse came loose from her waist and hung open. Her tits, escaping from her bra, swayed about. She got really ugly. She shouted for Mirielle to get out. She called me a whore and said I wasn't her daughter. I'd never seen anything like this. Emily, who'd returned to the doorway, started to cry.

Mirielle ran from the house and escaped. I ran to Emily and hugged her. "Please forgive me," I muttered into her ear. I shielded her from mother, covering her eyes. She clung to me. For that, at least, I was glad.

We retreated upstairs to her room and closed the door, while the storm raged below.

"What happened?"

"Look, dear, I did something pretty bad, but please hear my reason before you get angry."

"You fucked her?"

"Yeah. She agreed to cancel the weekend trip if I did. I mean -- I thought it was the only way, so I did it."

"Oh. OK."

"Are you mad?"

"Not really. That's a good reason. Mom caught you?"

"Yeah. It didn't really work out, did it?"

I smiled, trying to find humor in the situation. It didn't work. Emily looked forlorn.

"I don't think you should tell Vanessa about this."

"No. I don't think so either."

Eventually the storm below stopped and was replaced by sobbing. I considered going down, to give some sort of comfort, but decided it would do no good. I just held on to Emily.

The sobbing stopped and footsteps came up the stairs and down the hall. I heard them check my room, then on to Emily's. The door opened. Mother stood there.

She was a mess. Her blouse still hung open. Her makeup was streaked all over her face. Her hair was gross and sticking together in clumps; perhaps she had cried into it. She stared at us. She looked broken.

"We're still fucking going this weekend," she said, her years of culture and education slipping away, her language turning coarse, "Just the three of us. It'll be fun. I'll fucking make it fun. I'm not letting that slut break up our family. She can fucking die!"

All that and the trip wasn't off.

Emily's affection for her mother took over, and she ran and hugged her. Mother grasped her in her arms. I looked at them. Would I be welcome? She beckoned to me to come. I did. She embraced her two daughters and quietly sobbed.

My face ended up against a breast. Soft, but still firm enough. Very motherly. Her nipple was brown and pointy. I thought of sucking on it. I could see Emily having the same idea. We were devil girls -- I'm sure of it. We refrained. Now was not the time. We just hugged her and let her cry.

I sent an email to Vanessa,

"My Beloved Vanessa,

"Mom is taking us to the Catskills this weekend. We can't get out of it. All efforts to do so have ended in disaster. Still, we must see you. Get a cabin. I'm enclosing a link to the resort. Somehow, we'll find a few hours to be with you.

"It's the best we can do.

"Love Claire

"P.S. Emily appreciated your kiss with her normal fervor. I shall kiss her again soon."

A response came quickly. It simply read,

"Beloved. I just made a reservation for the last cabin. I will see you Saturday. Love. Kiss her for me."

I did.

Friday afternoon, mother drove us to the cabin. After we left the interstate, we took a small, windy, two lane road through rocky hills. Her old Volvo purred along, puttering here and there when we went up a steep bank. After a while, I dozed off. The last thing I saw was Emily, still awake, gazing out the window.

We arrived at the resort, a collection of twenty or so cottages surrounding a long narrow lake. There was a parking lot at one end, with a boat ramp and an office. We waited in the car as mother checked us in and got the keys. Then we walked, lugging our bags, along the narrow asphalt footpath that circled the lake. Our cottage was back a bit, nestled among trees. It was number twelve.

We plopped our bags down, ate sandwiches, and showered. Then we played a couple games of Apples to Apples. Emily won both times. She was smiling. She seemed very warm and happy. The mood mellowed. Mother was acting normal to me, it seemed.

There were two rooms. Mother took one, and Emily and I the other. We lay together in the bed, hugging and kissing in the darkness. A shaft of moonlight drifted in. Night crawled onward. We slept.

We awoke well past dawn to the sound of a bird singing. Mother was already up, cooking eggs on the tiny stove.

"We're gonna run down to the lake," I said.

"Be back soon. Breakfast is almost ready."

I took Emily's hand, and we ran down the footpath to where we could see the parking lot. We looked for a little green Toyota, her car. It was there!

I felt exalted. Emily got a great big smile, and I squeezed her hand.

We ran back and ate. Now, which cabin was hers, and how to slip away?

Mother wanted to go swimming. We put on our suits and went down to the lake. Other families had gathered at a little beach a few hundred yards from our door, and we joined them. The morning air was crisp, the water cold.

Bobbing in the lake, I looked around at the surrounding cabins. Which was hers? Was she watching us? We'd appear as mere specks from the furthest. The chill of the water seeped into my body. I felt time crawl. Emily splashed around laughing and mother watched us, content it seemed.

It drew into late morning, and mother said she'd take a nap. We returned to the cabin. She went into her room.

We had a couple of hours until lunch. It was time.

We slipped into our room and changed our clothes. I wore a little blue dress. Emily put on a t-shirt and a little skirt -- Vanessa liked skirts. "Easy access," she had once said.

We slipped out of the cabin. No sound came from mother's room.

Which cabin? We went to the office. An older woman commanded the desk. She had graying hair and wore slacks and a man's shirt. I approached her.

"Hi," I said.

"Hello sweetie."

"That green Toyota in the parking lot, I think it belongs to an old family friend. It would be just amazing if she is staying here. Can you look in the register for a Vanessa Park?"

She regarded us carefully. I'm sure she wasn't supposed to give out cabin numbers, but would she turn down two cute, innocent young girls looking for an old friend? Emily gave her a big smile and looked excited.

"Well, let me see," she said thumbing through the registration. "I see a Ms. Park here, in cabin twenty-one. I'm sure that's your friend. How wonderful!"

Indeed!