Chapter 3

Eastenders carried on in familiar form. A guaranteed half hour of mediocrity. What do the all the girls see in it? Its utter drivel. Why can't Al-Qaeda or whatever they are called bomb the square? Do something useful for once. She smiled darkly. Or even have one of the characters fall for her brother and indulge in something definitely out-with the nine PM watershed.

Lea sat there and stared at the TV in loathing, watching very little of what was happening on screen. It was a bit of relief when the end credits started.

"I'm off to do my homework mum."

Her mother looked up from the ironing. "Okay dear. Give me a shout if you need any help."

"Thanks mum, but I'll be all right."

"Okay dear."

Lea trudged up the stairs to her room. She heard her brother cursing through his door as he undoubtedly died again. Their parents didn't allow them to have TVs in their room, but allowed Thomas a monitor to play his console on. This seemed a pointless exercise to Lea, because if the whole point was to stop them staying up late at night watching TV, then it had failed as Thomas stayed up late playing stupid games.

When he would be better off playing with you?

Shut up.

Lea waited for the sharp rejoinder which never arrived. Knowing that left to its own devices, her mind would torment her with far too pleasurable thoughts of her brother, so she started on her homework.

Even sidetracked it was easy and she had finished it all within the hour. Methodically placing the folders back into her bag, she wondered what to do with the remainder of her evening. She checked the time on the wall clock, kicked her heels against her bed. She looked at the book she was currently reading. One of the Twilight series, all pent up forbidden lust and longing looks. Oh yes she knew all about that. However, she knew that as soon as she started to read it, her brother would intrude and leave her wanting oh so much more.

The bastard!

Rising from her bed, Lea stomped towards her dressing table and slumped in the seat in front of the mirror and started to remove what little make up she wore. 'Less is more' her mother was always telling her. Some girls in her class looked as though they used construction plant in the process of application. Not that it seemed to do them any harm... Her thoughts turned maliciously to one girl in her class who seemed to be on a mission to single-handedly keep the cosmetics industry going, yet always had the boys hanging around her. Bitch! I bet no one tells the boys that less is more. Mind you, they probably had, but boys in their endless stupidity thought it was in relation to clothes...

She put away her lotion and disposed of the used cotton buds in the bin. She headed back downstairs.

Her mother had finished the ironing and was sliding hangers into her fathers' shirts.

"Homework finished dear?"

"Yes mum. I'm tired, going to have a shower and go to bed."

"Okay dear."

"Goodnight mum. Goodnight dad."

The rumpled bundle that was currently masquerading as her father grunted in acknowledgement. Are all males' untidy seat cushions on legs?

Back in her room, she lifted the lid from the hamper that held her dirty clothes. There were only a couple of items inside, as she was perfectly capable of operating the washing machine downstairs. Slipping out of her clothes, she dumped them straight into the hamper. With great relief she removed her bra, rubbing her shoulders where the straps had dug into her flesh. Dressed in only her pants, she purposefully avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror. She hated how she looked; fat where she should be skinny, skinny where she should be fat. What a fucking joke.

Wrapping a towel around her body she headed to the bathroom. Genocide was still in progress in her brothers' room. Her feet slowed as she walked past his door. She seriously considered going in, dropping her towel and asking if he wanted to play with her controller. What if he ignores me, continues to play his game, tells me to get out, leave him alone? She felt cold dread settle in her stomach at the possibility of her brothers' indifference. She couldn't handle the rejection. Not now. Not ever. She carried on into the bathroom.

The bathroom was cold, the heat from her body leaching out of her feet into the cool tiles as she shut and locked the door. Lea opened the shower screen and turned on the tap, turning the heat dial all the way up into the red. Unclasping the towel, she hung it up over the towel rail and pulled her pants down her legs, reaching out to the towel rail to aid her balance as she stepped out of her underwear. Hot steam started to billow out of the shower and mist up the bathroom mirror, happily denying her sight of her own body. Carefully avoiding the jet of scalding hot water, she reached in and turned the temperature back down, carefully testing the warmth of the stream as it cooled.

Eventually satisfied with the temperature, she stepped into the waters flow, pulling the screen door shut behind. Warm water pounded into the back of her head and neck, cascading over her shoulders to run down over her burgeoning breasts, down her stomach, between her legs, embracing her in watery warmth. Closing her eyes, she let her body relax into the warmth, feeling her muscles loosen in the waters heat.

Sighing in pleasure, she lifted her soap from the tray and started to soap her body, her motions more industrious than the tantalisingly teasing ones that movies always seemed to portray whenever a female got in the shower. Bending over, she soaped her legs, her hair falling down around her face in the waters cascade, making breathing difficult. Legs washed, she straightened, sweeping her hair back over her shoulders.

Working the soap in her hands, Lea built up a lather before replacing the soap in the dish. Moving her hands between her legs, she worked the soap into the short soft hairs. Fingertips slipped in-between the ridges of flesh and Lea felt her pulse start to race.

Just imagine someone else's touch there...

STOP IT! Go away, I'm trying to wash!

Just imagine, him —there was no doubt in Lea's mind as to who 'he' was- standing behind you. His breath on your neck, his naked body pushed up against your back. His arms wrapped around you, palms sliding over your wet, soapy skin, his fingertips pushing into your skin, probing.

STOP IT! Don't do this to me, please. Lea begged of her subconscious, yet her fingertips continued to tease and probe at the sensitive flesh between her thighs, driving her pulse on faster.

His hands roaming over your stomach, rising to clasp your breasts, nipples squashed hard into his palms as he pulls you tight, forcing your body against his. You lean your head back against his shoulder, as he kisses your neck, telling you how he loves your body, loves you. Wants you, needs you.

Lea slipped a finger inside her folds as the thumb of the same hand slowly circled around the sensitive skin that surrounded the hard nub of her clit. Her other hand moved up to caress her left breast and tweak her nipple.

I told you to shut up. If you won't, then this should... Lea moved her thumb over her clit and pushed. Warm pleasure spread from that little nub to spread through her hips and into the rest of her body.

Her back arched and warm water poured into her open mouth.

Ahhhhhh

He pushes his palm hard against your cunt. He is so strong that he lifts you onto your toes as you grind yourself against his palm, the arm around your chest stopping you from toppling forward. You are virtually sitting on his palm, all your weight pushing down on your womb, and on through your sex. All he has to do, is curl up one finger and you will impale yourself on it, feel it slide deep into you. And there is nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do will stop his fingers from sliding inside, if he wants, if he wills it. You are helpless in his grasp, totally at his mercy. Anything he wants, he will do.

He whispers into your ear again. He tells you that you are the only one for him, there is no other. No one can compare to you. He wants no one else. You will be at his side forever, the only object of his affection. He asks if you are prepared to be his and his only?

"Yeessss!" Lea's voice was a tremulous whisper in the showers pulsating flow. The flesh around her mons quivered as her muscles rippled in orgasm. Her hand left her breast and jerked out in search of the wall, seeking solid support as her head went suddenly light and her knees threatened to buckle.

The hand between her legs continued to manipulate, but softer, gentler, milking out the afterglow.

"Wow! That was a biggie."

Slowly, her head cleared and her knees firmed up enough that she trusted removing her hand from the wall. Sweeping her hair back behind her shoulders she took several deep breaths of warm moisture saturated air. Stretching, Lea straightened her spine from the hunch it had slipped into, feeling her vertebrae pop, as she ran her fingertips through her long hair.

She had been in the shower long enough and the water was starting to slowly cool, she turned the temperature gauge up higher. The hot water tank must be running out. I'd better hurry up. She reached out and lifted over her shampoo. It was a lot lighter than it should be.

Grrrr, how many times do I have to tell him not to use my shampoo? THOMAAASSSSS!!!!!

Lea sat on the edge of her bed, dressed in fresh pants and Winnie the Poo nightdress as she furiously towelled her hair dry. She eyed the Twilight novel sat next her alarm clock on her bedside table, evilly out the corner of her eye. She used to use a hairdryer and style her hair after she got out of the shower, but after a nights sleep, it looked as though she hadn't bothered. So now she saved herself the effort and didn't bother. Annoyingly, her hair looked better for being ignored. One more of life's little injustices.

She walked over to her door and turned off the main light, the room now lit by the soft glow of her bedside light and the alarm clocks digital display. Pulling back her duvet she slipped under, her night dress rising; only the material of her pants between her skin and the bed sheets as she pulled the duvet up to her chin. She contemplated reading a few chapters of her book, but she was still a bit tender from her orgasm and didn't want to instigate another one or she would end up walking funny the ext day.

Hah! Explain that one away...

She turned off the bedside light and drifted off into pleasant sleep under the red glow emanating from the alarms display.

As usual, she awoke one minute before her alarm sounded. Lea had long given up wondering how she did it. Maybe there really is a body clock? She padded bare foot to her door and the bathroom beyond. She didn't bother putting on her dressing gown, her parents had their own on suite and Thomas was never in the land of the living at this time.

A bleary faced monster with red rimmed eyes stared at her from the bathroom mirror.

And good morning to you as well.

The monster in the mirror attacked its mouth with a toothbrush as if in some strange act of self flagellation, before carrying on with the rest its morning ablutions.

Back in her room, Lea pulled off her nighty, lifted her arms in turn and rolled on some deodorant, trying to put off the inevitable. But there was no getting round it, she opened a drawer and pulled out bra, cursing as she slipped the straps into place. She opened drawers and wardrobe in the daily chore of dressing. She was about to slip on a skirt, but really hated the sight of her legs. How do they get so fat overnight? She put on a pair of trousers instead.

Downstairs, breakfast was already out, her mother busy making sandwiches for her fathers lunch. Picking up a spoon, Lea half heartedly pushed the food around her plate. She was starving, but the image of her fat legs kept protruding into her thoughts, trying to, but not quite succeeding in destroying her appetite.

Leas mother shouted up the stairs, telling Thomas to get a move on, before turning her attention to Lea. "We got a phone call last night. "A hint of sadness in her mothers tone.

Yeah? And? Woopee-fucking-do, lots of people get phone calls at night. Thought Lea, the start of a full blown sulk impending on the very near horizon.

Her mother put down the bread knife and carried on. "About an 'incident' at the bus stop yesterday."

"Oh, that." Bugger!

"That indeed." Sighed her mother. "Apparently you repeatedly punched a younger boy..."

"WHAT! I never did! Though now I'm going to rip his ba..."

"LEA!" Snapped her mother, which silenced Lea. Her mother rarely snapped at her. Her mother walked over and embraced her in a hug. "Look, can't you just be, I don't know, more ladylike? There is no need to go around treating everyone like a punch bag." Lea made to speak but her mother cut her off. "Even if they deserve it." Her mother ruffled her hair lovingly Oi! I spent eight hours last night getting it into that style, leave it alone! "You're getting as bad as your brother. But he has an excuse; he's devoid of a brain. Your smart Lea, don't fall for their childish goading. I know you see it for what it is, rise above it, okay?"

Lea sighed. "Okay mum, I'll try." That little shit is so dead...

"I know you will. I love you so much Lea."

"I know mum. In future, I shall be the paragon of good behaviour." Leas mother pulled back and stared hard into her daughters' eyes. "Err, honest?"

Her mother was about to speak when the sounds of the living dead negotiating stairs, pervaded the somewhat tense kitchen air. Thomas blundered into the room, a half asleep cocktail of rampaging hormones and belligerent attitude.

"Morning Thomas" Thomas didn't appear to hear his mother. In fact, most of his attention seemed to be in finding the co-ordination to pull the chair out from under the table.

Lea always found herself slightly fascinated in the way Thomas ate in the morning. There was an industrial mechanical-ness to the way food was shovelled into his mouth. It reminded her of a building site she saw once. A 360 slew excavator was loading rubble into a crusher, the movements fast and steady, seemingly no pause in the smooth motions as rubble was scooped up and dumped into the hopper. The smooth motion had caught her eye as the operators' skill was almost balletic in grace.