Maggie’s brother, Bob, learned he had cancer during his physical examination while retiring from the Army. He was 47, a big, muscular, macho guy with a bluff manner and a confident air. Maggie was 42. Both had married young. Maggie had been divorced from her preacher husband for two years and was working in a refugee camp in Thailand.

As adults, their paths had rarely crossed and Maggie didn’t see Bob for several months into his treatment and recovery. Their mother was staying with him in Los Angeles and asked if Maggie could visit for a week to give her a break. Maggie thought it was the least she could do.

Bob looked better than she expected. He was bald from the chemotherapy, but he had always had his head shaved so that was not a shock. He had lost about twenty pounds and looked gaunt, but was in good spirits. “Chemo over,” he said, with a show of heartiness, “I’m on the road to recovery.” She was less confident.

The first day they were together they talked as they never had as adults and walked in the park and went to a movie and she cooked a decent meal for him -- their mother being a terrible cook. He tired easily, but otherwise seems to feel good.

Bob lived in a small one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment. Their first night together, she took a shower. As she got out she wondered what she should wear. She mused to herself. Why did she feel inhibited facing her brother while less that fully clothed? She had boldly stepped out on nude and topless beaches in Europe and she had had sex with thirty men. Her brother likewise was no stranger to sex. Even back in high school he had been known for his sexual prowess.

“No reason to be overly modest,” she said to herself. She stepped out of the bathroom with head held high wearing a nightshirt made out of t-shirt material, mid-thigh in length and with a scooped neck and narrow straps over her shoulders. Bob was sitting on the sofa. He had already showered and was in his boxer shorts.

“You look good, little sis,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the sofa bed. You can have the bedroom.”

“No,” she answered with a smile. “You’re the invalid. You sleep in the bed.”

“As you wish, nurse Maggie. Let me help you.” Bob stood up and unfolded the sofa bed. “Sheets are in the closet.”

She took two sheets off the shelf in the closet and they leaned over the mattress and spread and tucked the sheets. She was aware that the neckline of the nightshirt gapped and exposed her breasts as she leaned over the mattress. When he raised his head to look at her she put her hand to her chest, holding the cloth over her breasts.

“Oops,” she said.

He shrugged and laughed. “You’re my sister.” He mused, “When I went away to the army you were barely more than a child. I remember coming home and realizing that little Maggie had grown up.”

“I was such a shy and frightened thing back then -- and you were my big bold brother. I felt safe around you.”

Bob walked around the bed and kissed her on the cheek. “Now, the shoe is on the other foot. You’re keeping me safe,” he said ruefully. “Thank you for being here with me.”

He closed the door to the bedroom and she laid down on the sofa bed. It was not very comfortable, but she had slept on worse beds in the refugee camps around the world where she worked. She was asleep almost instantly.

She woke to the sound of her brother sobbing and talking in his sleep. She looked at her watch. It was 2:00 a.m. She rushed to the door of the bedroom. “Do you need help?” she asked. He was turning and twisting in bed and even from the door she could see the sweat running down his face.

“It’s the pain killers. And the chemo,” Bob said. “I have terrible dreams. I’m afraid of the dark.” He was still trying to catch his breath between sobs and his cheeks were streaked with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She wet a towel in the bathroom, sat down on the bed beside him and wiped away the sweat on his face and shoulders. He slowly relaxed.

Bob put his head on her lap and she was aware that nightshirt was pulled up around her thighs. When she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. One of her breasts rubbed against his chin. “I should have brought something a little more modest to wear to bed,” she thought. `

“This reminds me of when we were kids,” he said. “Do you remember that time when you were in about the 9th grade. I walked in on you in the bathroom and you were naked?”

“Oh, yes, I was humiliated. Partly because I was a prude and partly because I was ashamed of my breasts. They were little nubbins – and all my friends already had real tits.”

“You’re not a prude anymore, are you?”

She laughed. “No, I’ve been – how can I say it? -- around the block a few times. But you’re the only boy who saw my breasts until I graduated from high school.”

“Who was that lucky man? Don?”

“Yes, poor pathetic Don. And poor pathetic me.”

“Did you have sex with Don?”

“No!” She paused, than added, “Although once he stuck his penis in me. I made him take it out. Does that count?”

“I don’t know. This is fun, talking to you. We’ve never talked like this before.”

“No, we haven’t. My turn to ask a question. Did you have sex with Dottie?

“Everybody fucked Dottie,” he laughed. “I’m sorry. Does that word offend you?”

“No, of course not. You’re yawning. Can you go back to sleep?”

“I think so, but ... uh ... could you stay here with me? I feel so alone. Maybe I’ll sleep better.”

“I’ll stay. Roll over and let me lie beside you.”

As he rolled over, he said, “Do you remember that when we were kids, you would have a bad dream and slip into bed with me.”

“I remember. I felt so secure when I slept with you.”

They laughed together and she curled against him, pressing her chest against his back, putting one arm over his shoulder. “Go to sleep now. I’m here. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

The next morning she was standing at the stove cooking breakfast -- still wearing only her nightshirt -- when he came out of the bedroom and hugged her from behind. “Thanks for last night,” he said.

She turned around and kissed him on the cheek. They hugged. She couldn’t help but sense his penis pressing against her thigh. She mentally chastised myself for noticing.

That night, when it was time to go to bed, she asked, “Shall I sleep with you again tonight?”

He smiled. “I was afraid to ask you. But yes, please do. It’s a big help to me.”

He undressed first in the bathroom and came out wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. She took a quick shower and put her nightshirt on. She looked in the mirror. She could see the outline of her nipple through the thin cloth. Instinctively, she covered her breasts with a hand, then hurriedly took it away with a smile. He was her brother She had shared a bed with him the previous night. No need for false modesty.

She turned off the light and lay down beside him. They were both uncomfortable. Sleeping together had been spontaneous the night before; this was planned. He turned over to face away from her, and she curled around him. They went to sleep without a word.

At three in the morning he woke up, thrashing about. She pulled him to her, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her cheek against his Slowly, his shivering ceased.

“Will this never end?” he cried.

She clutched him tightly. He relaxed in her arms, their bodies locked in an embrace. She turned on the lamp beside the bed and turned over on her back. He rolled over to partially cover her body. She pulled his head down to cradle it against her breast. Her nightshirt was hiked up around her hips.

He pulled away from her, conscious of their intimacy.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, kissing his bald head and pulling him to her. “I’m here to help.”

“It is so good to have you here,” he said. “Mom tried to help, but I couldn’t invite her into my bed.” They both laughed.

They clutched each other. She became comfortable with his head on her breast, his leg lapped over hers, his penis softening against her leg.

“Do you have a man in your life?” he asked.

“Several,” she answered with a smile. “But nobody special. I’m not a shy little girl any more. You may have noticed that.”

“It’s still nice to sleep with you.”

She looked down. His head rested on a breast nearly poking out of her nightshirt.

He raised his head to look up at her. “I haven’t had sex for eight months,” he confessed. “I don’t know whether I’ll be able to do it again. I worry about that.”

“You’ll get better. You’re getting better. Do you know any women in L.A.?”

“No, and I don’t think I have the energy to undertake a relationship -- and a seduction.” They laughed together

“Maybe we should find a woman for you? Or a man?” She suggested with a smile.

“Cruel! You know how to wound. No men, please.” They both laughed.

“Don’t go away,” Bob said. “I need you. I’m sorry for all those years when we barely saw each other. You’ve turned out to be a sophisticated and worldly lady. Beautiful too.” He snuggled in closer to her.

“You exaggerate, brother, but thank you. I’m proud of you too.” She kissed him on the top of his bald head and pressed him to her breast and held him tightly

Bob had his arm around her, his face pressed against hers. “I’m sorry. I can’t sleep. Talk to me. What happened with your marriage?”

“My husband asked me for a divorce. It was my fault. I went off to Africa to work in a refugee camp and he found somebody else in my absence. I wasn’t unhappy about the divorce. I had long since moved on from my husband.”

“Did you have affairs?”

“I had been fucking around -- frequently -- for about eight years before the divorce. I was careful not to humiliate my husband by having an affair near home -- but when I was out of town ... well, let’s just say I didn’t behave like a proper wife of a small-town, fundamentalist preacher.”

“I fucked around on my wife also. She finally got tired of it. Maybe a divorce was for the best. I’m a little surprised at you, however. You were -- how do I say this? -- not a flamboyant young lady.”

“I had no confidence; I thought I was ugly; I had dinky little tits; I wore glasses and I was good at math. I didn’t believe that any man could be interested in me. So, I made a virtue out of my insecurity, and became self-righteous.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “What a waste! I am so glad that I finally learned the joys of sex.”

Her brother responded. “I’ve always had an easy time with women. But, I’m worried about the future.” She could feel his breath on her face and his hardening penis pressing against her thigh. She checked a desire to look down and ensure that her genitals were covered by her nightshirt and the sheet over them.

“Worried? About sex?”

“Yes. About sex and about romance. I really like. And love. And maybe I’m ... uh ... incapable.”

She moved her leg to touch against his penis, now hardening again. They both dissolved in laughter. “Have you tried -- I mean -- to ejaculate? Oh, shit, enough with the euphemisms! Can you cum?”