Adapted by Ylloh Kcinner

ADAPTOR'S NOTES

Thanks to American author Holly Rennick for permission to adapt this selection from "Writer's Notebook" for publication in my country (a part of the former Soviet Union). We wish to practice American English and receive a NATO air field.

America is our friend. Arnold Schwarzenegger is a famous American leader. Holly Rennick is a famous American scholar of English.

Because my country is very cold, we prefer hot literature. We say, "Wow, man! This is very 'toh'." We understand little of the American mind, so there is no need for character development.

"Rehgih ekorts erocs." Pronounce it as best you can, over and over, permeating your subconscious. In my native language (with Byzantine diacritics) it means, "Brother sister to-and-fro."

JANUARY

"Three girls felt Zak's penis at his sister's slumber party. She's a Junior. First they wanted him to play strip poker, but he wouldn't. He knew they'd rig it."

"It'd be easy," I agreed, sipping my Starbucks. If we don't have much sex life ourselves, we can speculate about our students. Plus while we gossip, we can learn to knit.

"The thing is," interjected my teaching colleague," you're supposed to cheat fair so everybody gets naked."

I've never actually played strip poker, but know how it works. I'd read about Naked Twister, too. but I'd just played the Milton Bradley way.

"You think this will look like a sweater?" asking me to appraise several rows of knitting production.

"Or a scarf."

My girlfriend continued, "So three of them snuck into Zak's room in the middle of the night and held the cover over his head so he couldn't tell who. They sat on him and teased till he got hard. He couldn't help it. They had a ruler, so there must have been a bet or something."

"No way" I objected. She always stretched the facts. They'd bet on his length?

"Cross my heart with my Maidenform bra! They pulled his boxers all the way down so they could measure his balls, too. After he got his erection, they were nicer. One girl made him squeeze her tits while they did their thing; he liked that part. The last one rubbed herself across his cock, but he didn't shoot, when they were there, anyway. If he had, they'd make a big deal of it."

"It would be a big deal," I noted. "They'd start bagging him everywhere, like in the band room." Actually, it depends on the school: band room, auditorium light booth, drama storeroom, balcony of the old gym, they'll find a place. Once I found a used condom behind the reference bookshelf in the back of my classroom, but it had to have been from when I wasn't there. The janitors sometimes forget to lock.

"He knows it was three because they took turns. At the last, they uncovered his mouth and each kissed him. They left three pairs of panties on his pillow. So high-schoolish, right? Except for their giggles, the whole thing was perfectly silent, them and him."

"Poor kid. They should fondle the boys who want them to." I was, I'll admit, fondling myself just a tad, the heel of my hand pressing my lap. My hand was under my knitting bag, of course.

My friend noticed, but then I don't keep secrets from her very well. "I had your reaction, too," with her tiny tongue flip.

"What reaction?" I straightened up a bit.

"Your bag helps," in perfect deadpan.

And then back to Zak, "He's pretty sure who two were, the way they blushed next morning. His sister could be the other, he suspects, because she's started getting these videos when their folks are out. They have a basement TV. You ever see 'Undercover Agent Uncovered'? You should. Zak's sister just wears her summer nightie, even though it's winter, and scoots right next to him."

"Bra?" I wondered. In Watergate, they said, "Follow the money." I say, "Follow the brassiere."

"Sometimes when they start watching, but she'll go to the bathroom and ditch it."

"And she'd let other girls goose her little brother? She's a weirdo."

"More than goose, actually. But it's not weird; it's just not talked about. She'll just hop into his lap in the middle of the movie and get him to wrap his arms under her boobs. During a buildup scene, she'll snuggle deeper so his hard-on fits against her crack. He has one constantly."

"I wonder why?" Maybe I should have used a larger knitting needle, I decided, but it was too late. Story of my life.

"She'll even say things like, 'I'll bet she never tells, ' or 'that one would be a way to start.'"

"Why not just say, 'Let's do it too, dear brother of mine?'" I'm direct at times, at least in suggestions.

"Good point," agreed my friend. "To get more comfy, she'll move his arms up. If he cups one through her nightie, he doesn't act intentional. He can bump her nip, but shouldn't squeeze, if you get the difference. Or she'll tug her neckline out enough for him look right over her shoulder. She looks too."

"Tease the guy to death!" Tease me to death, too! My coffee was getting cold, but so what?

"Well, he does sort of like the cuddling. He's just a guy.".

"With his sister?" This was the hard bit.

"If Zak puts a pillow over his lap, she tries to wrestle it away. 'Perv-boy peeked and got a biggie! We can't help how we get sometimes, can we?' That kind of stuff."

"Poor guy probably wants to slide under the sofa." My personal theory says, look, don't discuss, but it's pretty much a theory.

"She'll crawl right on top of him in the battle. If a button comes loose and a boob pops out, she claims it doesn't matter because they used to take baths together anyway. They still could, she adds."

"Would they take their rubber ducky?" I hummed a few bars. (Ernie was always so sweet, chatting away at poor mono-brow Bert who just wanted to sleep sometimes. I never bought into that homosexual lobby conspiracy some people railed about.)

"She makes him button her back in because she says he undid it," my friend ignoring my duck question. "She holds real still while he fixes it and then starts wrestling until it gets undone again. And when her gown rides up, him seeing her panties doesn't matter, she says, because there's nobody watching them wrestle."

"Like we wrestle in our little panties and they don't see everything?" We know exactly how they wedge up.

"He sees enough," in agreement... "When he touches a tit in the wrestling, she kind of pauses and raises her arm before trying to escape. If he touches her butt, she giggles that he better not spank her. He's brushed between her legs when he was pinning her, but not long enough to do anything. His touches aren't all accidental, you know."

"Don't blame Zak," I warned.

"She tries to touch too, her leg between his. Or maybe the side of her arm gets there. Like with her tits, if it seems accidental he'll go along."

"This is going somewhere it shouldn't." Actually, I thought it had already.

"Not really. They end up with her thigh on his cock, his hip against her sweet spot. More or less even for a make-out, anyway. Nothing really gets anywhere." My friend giggled at the inference. "She's probably watching his breathing, seeing what's working."

"Just a matter of time." This much I knew.

"And then Zak found her Valentine's panties in his dresser, bikini ones with little red hearts. Like their mom can't sort their laundry? Right! When he threw them in her room, she asked if she should wear them next time, even if they don't stay up very well. Talk about bold! It's because she knows that brother is a virgin with a big one and won't tell on her. She was the third girl, alright."

My friend thought a moment more. "Anyway, Zak really likes his sister. He's spied on her, pretty well actually, but it just makes him hornier. She knows, too. Would you leave your door open a crack at bedtime, turn away right when you get naked, hop under the sheet and touch yourself, him still peeking in? The girl's cruel! Well, maybe she's smart. He should slip in and finish what she started."

"They'll have a six-fingered baby," I retorted, then wondered, "So how come you all this, anyway?"

"I'm Zak's teacher, right?"

I looked at her.

"Extracurricular," she clarified, knowing that girlfriends keep secrets.

My stitches were really uneven, but maybe with a baggy sweater, no one would notice.

MARCH

Zak slipped in and closed the door.

"Zak, what are you doing? Get out of my room!" His sister clutched her sheet. Window-light illuminated four protrusions underneath -- breasts and knees.

He knew she wasn't asleep. "Really quiet, or I'll tell Mom what you're doing." He used his foot to push her throw-rug against crack beneath the door while he took off his shirt.

"I'm not doing anything. Beat it," but more in a whisper.

Ignoring her dismissal, he sat on her bed.

"Get off and get out, boy child," a bit more fiercely, but still hushed.

"You were twiddling yourself, right?" He put his hand on her abdomen and she pulled back.

"Quit it! I was sleeping," she lied. He'd not really seen anything specific, she figured, just getting relaxed after a busy day.

"Or was it here?" his hand sliding upward.

A swat with her elbow. "Pervert!"

Zak poked at a nipple, thimble-like, punctuating the linen. "How'd it get hard, then? It's not that big a tit, overall, but it's nice," a pinch serving as the period.

"Quit it and scram. You can't do that!" still a whisper. She swatted again and scooted against the wall. He scooted in emboldened pursuit.

"I wouldn't have to squeeze if you'd lie still. You let me in the basement" pinching again, a bit harder.

"Stop acting like a jerk." She tugged his hand off, but he returned. "It's different there because it's accidental and you show a little respect. Besides, what do you know about anything bigger than AA's?"

"How to feel them," he boasted. "I'm good."

"Says who? Some mannequin?"

"Somebody with bigger ones than these."

"Well bigger isn't better, stupid! Plus I'm dressed when we're watching TV." She slapped hard at his wrist. If it hurt he deserved it.

"Dressed? I suppose you accidentally sit on my lap, too?" He relaxed his clasp and rested his hand on her ribs.

She felt her breath retreat. "I can't help about you when we watch. I do mind you being here now, though. It's my room!"

"Let's make it not an accident, then," reclaiming her bust slowly. Very slowly.

She twisted again, but to avoid another pinching, didn't intervene as he massaged through the sheet, concentrating on her nipples.

Well, it's not much more than in the basement, she told herself. We've only messed around on the couch, but maybe here would be OK, too. Her bedroom's just where they happened to be. If he wants to feel, she'll let him, the little perv. She didn't totally mind what he was doing. She'd been getting in the mood when he showed up, anyway. It's just so rude, how he just barged in, though. She expanded her chest so she'd seem bigger.

Her breathing deepened. Her neck visibly relaxed and her head fell back against the pillow. "You go out and I'll get in my nightie. We can look at your magazines with my flashlight," she grinned. He didn't know that she even knew about his magazines, she figured, so such cognizance might help re-establish her rank.

He smiled too, but a bit more darkly. "No nighties. Why look at pictures when we can wrestle?"

"We can't wrestle here! And stop touching me!"

"Let's just chuck this sheet," tugging at its corner. "It's not cold."

"No way! I'm not dressed, jerk-off spy!" Some truth there, she knew.

"You rub them like this," showing her, gentle for the first time.

She didn't deny, but wiggled farther away and stuck out her tongue. "You treat me with respect! Anyway, I can't wrestle because of the curse."

"Nice try. I don't want to finish you off you during your little period either, so I checked the wastebasket. It's been a week."

"You make me gag, Zak. You lick them clean, I'll bet." She paused, her rejoinder suddenly no longer that important. His "finish you off" signaled a different intention. Who does he think he is?

"How about I lick you clean to get you ready?"

She now knew what he was after. The cocky little bastard!

Quickly, "Oh no, Zak boy, we're not doing that. I'm not on the pill. Leave me alone, asshole," an elbow to his ribs to detour his roving.

He moved his reach toward her crotch and she grabbed his wrist, leaving a single hand to preserve the sheet.

"You knew I'd be in here sooner or later," he judged.

She looked for a different argument. "Anyway, I know about the sock under your mattress. Wash it," grasping for advantage. "And so do my girlfriends, but you don't know which ones. We take turns at your keyhole. You're such a pervert."

"They got interested enough to hold me down, anyway. You're the pervert and couldn't even make me come."

"Am not!" fiercely. "You would have, but I didn't want your icky stuff on me," in further justification

"Well this time, up the stovepipe," with his disarming smile.

She couldn't stop his palm rubbing her pelvis through the sheet. This wasn't just a game.

He moved to her thigh and then down to her shin.

"Penis face! Go wank yourself," trying to sound in-charge, her old voice.

Zak continued his business, serious business. "So let's take off elder sister's sheet."

As she was still clutching the cover to her throat, exposing her toes was easy. When he bared her knees, she flipped face down and tried to burrow. At the end, the sheet was a scarf, easily pried away.

"Frontward, please," to her bare back. No response other than clenching her butt and locking her hands under her crotch.

"Give me my sheet!" She didn't even realize he'd pulled down his pants until his erection prodded her cheeks.

Turning to look over her shoulder, "Ugly!"

With her girlfriends, it seemed a cute plaything. Now, looming white and rigid from her brother's shadow of hair, it looked larger. He was bouncing his hips just enough to make it wave. She broke her stare when she realized he was watching her eyes.

"Well, we'll stick in a place where it's dark." He could be so crude!.

Straddling her, he teased her clenched rear with pretend probes, then let it slide along her crack. He reached under her arms to fondle her again and she shivered as he took the time needed to recover her nipples

Sitting on the sofa, she'd been the one doing the pressing downward. She didn't like getting mauled, but disliked being bare-bottomed on the bottom even more.

His erection pressed more firmly against her flesh.

"Zak, don't do that stuff to me. I never made you do anything on the couch. Just go away. I won't tell," almost meekly. She wouldn't.

"I know you won't," he agreed. "So how to turn her right-side up?" he asked the air.

"I'll do you with both hands," she negotiated. "You can play with my tits, during."

"Too late. You never delivered on the couch. A bed's for the real thing," still reaching around her. She raised on her elbows a little, hoping to buy time.

"You can spy on a slumber party. I'll get them to play around and everything. OK?" She tried to smile, but it was forced.

"I'd rather see you play around."

"OK." A ray of hope -- she'd let him watch. Maybe he'd even do it, too.

He read her mind. "I mean play around while we fuck."

"Zak, please don't" She so much didn't like that word.

His hands moved to her stomach to lift. She hoped she was too heavy unless he got more assertive, and that could make noise.

She foiled his reach between her buttocks by locking her legs together.

Reaching around her hip, he worked his fingertips near her crotch before clenched hands blocked that route.

"Almost got there and I was hardly trying," in whispered boast.

He shifted to her side.

As her brother tried to roll her toward him (hard to defend against without spreading her legs), she counterattacked, slugging his stomach, pushing him back with a swift forearm and almost diving free. Naked on the floor would hardly be home free, she realized, but beat being naked in bed. It no longer mattered what he saw. Ill-aimed blows rained on her sibling, but without room for a wind-up, inflicted little damage. Her fingernails, however, left marks.

Zak, sensing her disequilibrium, twisted her leg and quickly had her ripely on her back, one of his hands below her neck, the other on her stomach. She was cognizant that neither perch afforded him much hold, but he'd shifted to her shoulder and hip while she gasped for breath.