Chapter 5

Morgan's footsteps were almost inaudible as he approached Fran's bedroom. It was the discreet airline walk, coupled with the subdued and seemingly knowledgeable manner. Yes, Morgan was an expert at certain kinds of deception, and now he prepared some of this skill as he softly turned the handle of his sister-in- law's door. She had been too distraught to think of locking it; indeed, she was incapable of anything at the moment but lying prostrate upon her bed, reduced to low moans and soul-wracking sobs by the horror of what she had seen downstairs in the living room. She had not even begun to fully react to the incestuous scene between her little girl and her husband's brother. There was no precedent in all of her experience that had prepared her for this moment.

Therefore, when the shaken young blonde looked up to find that her brother-in-law had been standing there watching her for God knew how long, she was too stunned to do anything at first but gape at him in astonishment.

Many things ran through Morgan's mind as he made their mutual stare a test of wills. He knew he looked handsome standing there, clean-cut and all the things people felt that a young man ought to be in appearance, and as usual he counted on this to carry some of the brunt of his purpose for being in his brother's wife's room. He also found himself thinking something that was becoming familiar to him by now: What have I got to lose, after all?

He'd already been caught doing the worst imaginable. From here on in it was pure gravy. His gorgeous sister-in-law looked frightened, vulnerable, and more beautiful than ever to his jaded eye; and Morgan decided to take full advantage of her disturbed state.

The brash twenty year old began to walk toward the older woman's bed. He looked around him as he approached. So this was his brother's sacred bedroom. Big deal!

"Get out! Don't come near me, you monster!" Fran cried, suddenly finding her voice. What was he doing here anyway? What did he want from her? How could this be happening now after what she had just discovered in the living room? It didn't make any sense at all, and for an instant it seemed to the disturbed blonde housewife that she might have imagined everything, that her joy and happiness and the enormous amount of champagne she'd consumed with Giuliano at lunch might have clouded her reason. Maybe she hadn't seen anything down there at all! Perhaps her guilt about Giuliano had something to do with it for she did feel guilty now, horribly guilty for the thoughts, yes, and the feelings too. Posing naked with animals... good God! But the young woman's alcohol-befuddled brain could not really accept the idea that she'd been hallucinating the lewd scene of fornication between her daughter and her brother-in-law. No, she could not really accept that!

Morgan stood directly over her now, and she found herself looking up into his dark, flashing eyes, so much like her husband Brint's... but God, there was something else in them, something evil, something fascinating. It was that same fascinating "something" that she'd been avoiding during the younger man's stay in her house, the same "something" that made her feel that she hated him, loathed him, in fact. And now, for some reason she could not turn her eyes away. Superimposed upon her vision she seemed to see Morgan's naked buttocks flexing, thrusting, seemed to hear her own little daughter crying out for more!

When the twenty year old spoke, Fran jumped as though she had been struck. For didn't she expect this... some kind of violence from him, if not from herself?

"What's the matter, honey?" he said with a teasing attitude, and Fran could see his twisted handsome smile looking back at her. "Your pride all shook because it wasn't your little pussy getting a taste of my cock?"

Fran stiffened, her face draining of all color, her mouth opening to speak, but a strangled horrified sound emerging, a sound that she didn't even recognize as belonging to her.

But everything was topsy-turvy, wasn't it? Fran felt a wave of dizziness pass over her at the vile sound of the obscenities her husband's younger brother dared to mouth. But something inside her had been touched, something had been wounded, mortally perhaps, and in spite of herself, the disturbed young blonde could feel tiny butterfly-like sensations flitting suddenly through her stomach. It was much the way she had been feeling there in the restaurant sitting across from her former photographer and lover. God, it was much the same, but stronger, much stronger. She realized how much the effects of the champagne were still with her, and the crazy excited feelings she'd been having then seemed to be carrying over to this hideous moment. It was all wrong, all wrong and she wanted to tell him so, to protest that she had never, ever entertained such lewd thoughts about him. But now, Fran couldn't be sure. What if she had? What if her aversion to her husband's handsome brother all this time had been nothing but an attraction that she could not admit to herself? Tears began to flow from her eyes, and Fran batted her long lashes furiously in an attempt to stop them. Crying seemed an admission of sorts. "You... you mustn't talk to me like that. You can't say such things! I... I'll call the police... I..."

The mention of the police made Morgan snarl, and Fran instantly regretted having brought up the subject. "Oh, come off it, Fran! All the police in the world won't help you now. Because I'm going to do something I bet you've wanted me to do for a long while! I'm gonna fuck you silly. Fuck you like that brother of mine probably never has! My cock's bigger than his, anyway. You'll dig that!"

"Oh, please, please..." Fran began to crawl to the other side of the bed. "Dear God, you can't force me to do anything. No, I'm your own sister-in-law! No! You can't!"

Morgan made a move to the other side of the bed, between his sister-in-law and the door, and stood defiantly looking down at her tear-stained face. She heard him chuckle and as a dreadful apprehension overcame her, she realized that if he had been intimate with his niece, a ten year old, certainly nothing would stop him from doing the same with his sister-in-law!

The disheveled blonde cowered back into the pillows of the bed, whimpering with fright, and it was then that Morgan knelt upon the bed, causing it to slant downward alarmingly.

"Dear God, no... no!", she begged, holding out one hand at arm's length as if to ward off the handsome dark-haired youth. But to her alarm, he reached out and took her extended hand in his.

"Calm down," he said in a softly insidious voice. "No reason to get all upset. You know you want it as bad as I do. And if you don't, you will once I get started."

"No! Please stop talking like that. I've never been unfaithful to Brint. I simply can't. You can't make me do it! You just can't!

"Sure I can, love!" he said, moving closer, his arms encircling his older sister-in-law to draw her to him. Morgan ignored her futile attempts to fight him off. "You can ask Jeanie, she likes it well enough. But then you saw that much, didn't you?"

Wild thoughts of killing him, of finding some weapon in one of the drawers next to the bed ran through Fran's mind. But what if she should actually commit murder, kill her own husband's brother? The thoughts came to nothing as the older woman was drawn up tight to the twenty year old's chest. He was disregarding her hands against his chest, his powerful young arms crushing her to him as his hot mouth came down in search of hers, finding it and pressing his lips wetly to hers in a tight grinding manner.

Fran groaned and struggled feebly for a sudden panicky moment, feeling her brother-in-law's hand pressed hard in the softness of her breasts beneath the silky material of her suit.

Futilely, the terrified housewife and mother let herself go limp, surprised at the softness of her brother-in-law's lips against her own, and once more the little fluttering sensations running through her trembling belly plagued her.

"There," he whispered, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" Morgan's hand was continuing to stroke her breast outside her suit. "Just let yourself go, beautiful. You're missing a lot being faithful to old Brint all the time... missing a hell of a lot!"

The words disturbingly echoed Fran's own thoughts, and the trapped blonde moaned in desperation. She realized with sudden accuracy that she couldn't fight her brother-in-law. He was too strong for her, and now her own body was beginning to betray her. The effects of the champagne had caused her to turn into a bundle of loose raw nerve endings, and she could feel her mind rapidly losing what little control over it she'd had before. To plead anymore, she knew, was useless, and now the former model made no effort to stop her husband's brother as he slipped his hand inside the deep "vee" of her suit front, moving beneath the brassiere she wore underneath to cup one and then the other of her nakedly trembling breasts with groping fingers that sent tiny licking flames of passion over Fran's satiny flesh. Small pinpricks of delicious feeling were racing through the tip of her pliant breast as he rolled the hardening softness of one nipple back and forth maddeningly between his thumb and forefinger.

An obscene horrid thought flickered through Fran's mind as she felt herself succumbing to the coursing desire within her system. Had it been like this for her daughter? Had ten year old Jeanie felt something like this with her Uncle Morgan? The thought sent an odd shiver of something akin to jealousy rather than concern for her daughter through the older woman, and sadly, with a sense of great loss, the beautiful blonde wondered briefly if she had ever felt like a mother toward her child since the precocious little girl had begun to show signs of being more adult than Fran herself!

Fran could feel the heat of her husband's brother's breath rushing against her ear. She thought suddenly that she was nine years older than he... he was little more than a child himself. Yet this "child" was moving his head, bringing his lips down to lock wetly against hers, and with a shudder Fran found herself thrusting her own tongue forward sharply in lewd reply. Morgan sucked his sister-in-law's tongue deep into the wetness of his mouth, and feeling that she was melting and quivering against him, he slowly eased his head away and whispered, "Let's get naked."

The crude words were like a sudden gust of fresh air, and Fran realized just exactly what she was letting happen. She thought of breaking away from her husband's brother, of breaking this awful bond of intimacy between them, of running, running. But where? She doubted now if her legs would carry her even if there were someplace for her to go. Horribly, the distressed blonde realized that she couldn't even go to Giuliano. No, she would have to be perfect for him. Never would she let him see her upset or disturbed. And with this realization, she knew that he was not really her friend. No, if he were then she could go to him anytime at all. Giuliano was just a surface relationship, as surface and two-dimensional as the photographs he would take of her.

She began to cry again as Morgan let her free to sit up and begin removing his clothes. Weakly, Fran rolled her head back and forth in limp protest. But she was thinking, was anyone really her friend? Certainly her husband Brint wasn't. Was there no one, then? Nothing but this conflict of bodies, this desire that she felt inside her which was more than desire really. It was a request for love, for understanding. But would anyone ever know that and take it as such? And then he was naked to the waist and she saw her husband's brother moving toward her again, his arm embracing her as her hand went flat against his warm muscular chest, the soft patch of silk-like hair upon it tickling her palm, and then his mouth was closing over hers once more, his tongue sliding between her lips, past the barrier of her small perfect teeth. Fran found herself sucking at it with all her might, as though it might give her some solace. Unconsciously, the older woman let her hand slide against the twenty year old's chest, her fingertips raking at the tiny male nipples, then squeezing and rolling them as he had done to her.