Chapter 4

That night my mother served a banquet for the five of us. And it was complete! She had an appetizer, a fish course (!), salad, the main course — filet of beef Wellington ... the whole nine yards. She even served two wines, a marvelous Chardonnay with the fish and a grand cru Bordeaux of the finest vintage. It was topped off with a birthday cake with a single candle: the number zero. (I guess it was one of those number candles that can be put together to produce any desired number. I’m sure the manufacturer was thinking in terms of 10, 20, 30, but in this case it was just zero.)

When Sheila looked at mom with a question in her eyes, Mom replied, “You were just born. What did you expect? Sheila Katherine Callaway — and thank you, darling daughter, for honoring me by taking my name for your middle one — you won’t be one until August 15^th, next year!”

Even Sheila howled with laughter at that one.

Do you know what? I think that might have been the very first time I ever heard her laugh. I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you, dear reader, to learn that her laugh was the loveliest, most melodic laughter I think I have ever heard. Ever since I guess I’ve done all sorts of things with her just to be able to hear that lovely sound again.

We finished off the dinner — finally — with cognac and cigars. Dad even got out the Rémy Martin Louis XIII, the most mellow cognac this side of Rémy’s private company stock. There we were sitting around the table quietly puffing on very light panatellas, except for Dad who had a Corona corona.

When Sheila very cautiously mentioned that she and I were only 16, Mom just said, “Sweetie, let’s pretend we’re dining in Paris. How would that be? There’s no minimum drinking age there, by the way.”

The end of a truly marvelous day.

Just a couple of days later — Friday — Sheila and I were lying on the bed together on our backs. As usual, both of us were bare. We were lying side by side and I was just very lightly caressing her body. Although I could still feel every rib, even in her condition at the time her skin was like warm satin, utterly lovely to the touch.

I guess my eyes must have been closed at the time because I didn’t notice anything odd. Oh, by the way, Sheila was reciprocating by gently stroking my body at the same time. Delicious! But then I thought I heard a strange sound so I opened my eyes. I found Sheila silently weeping.

“What’s wrong, Sis?” I asked. “Why the tears?”

Hearing my words must have opened the floodgates because she just started to bawl. I took her in my arms and finally got her quieted down a bit, at least enough to be able to speak coherently.

“I never should have agreed,” she wailed, “but I love you so! I just had to do it... !”

“Agreed to what?”

“My adoption!” she virtually screamed.

That really took me aback. “What do you mean by that?”

By this time Sheila was regaining control. She rolled over on her side to face me and said, “Sam, you probably don’t know it, but you truly saved my life. You!”

“Get serious!” I responded. “Mom did and Dr. Reynolds may have, but me? Hah!”

“You!” she repeated emphatically. “And it’s because of you I consented to the adoption.” She paused at that point to gather her thoughts, then she continued, “You know some of the nightmare I’ve lived through, Sam, but really you know very little about it. As bad as you all think it was, the reality was far worse than you know. I want to vomit just thinking of some of the things I forced myself to do.

“And my choice of words is apt: I forced myself to do. It was all part of the price of going to school. You know about the 50 strokes a week with the pussy whip, but you don’t know how I had to beg in order to reach that number. The people who paid to see me — I guess I never mentioned that, either — knew I had to reach that number.” With an utterly humorless smile she continued, “They really got quite creative in getting me to abase myself to get a few more strokes.”

Now her eyes became piercing as she added, “Sam, think of the worst, filthiest things your mind can conceive. I’ve done them all, and some things so awful I’m sure you can’t even imagine them.

“The result is I was very close to suicide. You’re the one who kept me alive! You, Samantha Jane Callaway!”

Again she paused and then went on, “You know I was blind, and I was. I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were utterly beautiful. But the significant thing is your utter goodness. I guess I could feel it in the room. I do know that whenever you entered a room, I knew it. I could feel it. Literally.

“Sam, it was your goodness that kept me alive.” With that she moved the last few inches and melted her lips to mine and kissed me with all the power she had.

When I finally recovered all I could do was to thank her. But then I said, “Okay ... You say I saved your life. But what does that have to do with your adoption? Why was it a mistake?”

“Because I’m madly in love with my brother!” she nearly screamed. “I didn’t even know he was alive until a couple of days ago, but now that he’s my brother I can’t ever have him!”

Uh, oh!

“Darling Sheila, what’s your blood relationship to brother James?”

That question really startled her. “There is none that I know of.”

“Then there’s no impediment to your marriage, either, is there?” Then very blithely I added, “Why any lovely girl in her right mind would want to associate with him, let alone marry him, utterly blows my mind, but then ... I guess love is sort of strange sometimes.”

At that moment who should appear but brother Jim himself.

He had already stripped and was nude. In all honesty, I guess he is sort of good looking. He was already six feet three on the way to his present six-four plus and was built like a Greek god. He had broad shoulders, slim hips and was heavily muscled because of his weight training. Moreover, his entire body was an all-over golden tan. And his male equipment was — and is — excellent. Nonetheless, where brains are concerned, periodically I’ll remind him that he’s smarter than a rock, dumber than a tree.

And this was definitely one of those times.

“Spread your legs, Sam,” he said without preamble. “It’s late and I have to get to bed.”

When he came within reach I slapped him across the face as hard as I could and screamed, “You bastard!”

If I failed to mention it this time around, I’m heavily into weight training, too. Although I was only sixteen, I was — and am — very strong. And I don’t mean strong for a girl. I mean strong.

At any rate, there’s Jim kneeling on the bed looking utterly befuddled. “What did you do that for, Sis?” he asked in injured innocence. “I just want to fuck you, for heaven’s sake. What’s the big deal?”

I think the sound of that slap must have really carried. A moment later Mom and Dad appeared in the room, both also nude. It took only a moment for me to tell her what had happened in response to her unasked question.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” she asked rhetorically. “Your father has me all warmed up already, so...” She motioned Sheila off the bed and quickly took her place on her back with her thighs spread wide. “Come here, James,” she ordered.

“But, Mom ... I mean Kate ... No! I mean ... I’ve got a game tomorrow...”

“It’s a late game,” she reminded him, utterly without sympathy. “Now come here!”

Jim moved toward Mom looking like he was going to his doom. When he knelt between her wide-spread thighs she reached out to fondle his now-rigid cock and then caressed his balls. “Umm ... You’re getting to be more like your father every day.” Then in a note of command she ordered, “Now ram it in!”

As she said it, Mom bridged her body to raise her hips off the bed. Jim just slid smoothly into her wetness and then with the smoothest motion, Mom let her body down on the bed and swung her legs up over his shoulders. His troubles were just beginning.

Meanwhile, Dad had entered the room and got on the bed beside me. Taking me into his arms he melted his lips to mine while he began lightly to caress my body all over. If I didn’t mention this before, you may have gathered that I’m pretty quick to warm up. Between his kisses and his caresses, it took no time at all.

But to be sure, with a quick move he was on his knees between my legs. Knowing what he was thinking of, I put my legs over his shoulders the way Mom had done with Jim, but pulled myself up much higher to bring my cunt within easy reach of his mouth.

Jack was utterly marvelous! (By the way, dear reader, it’s a family convention: When we’re having sex with them, they’re Kate and Jack. The rest of the time they’re Mom and Dad.) He flicked my engorged clit back and forth with his tongue causing me to scream with delight.

You know, my husband, Tom, just might be right. He claims the reason no one lives anywhere close to us is the same reason no one lives close to O’Hare: too much noise.

“I’m certainly no louder than a 747 at takeoff,” I protested, the first time he said it.