Chapter 5

As Rachel got out and explored her new world, she made friends in the neighbourhood, and sometimes, one or three of them would appear on the doorstep, and then they'd disappear down to her room, and they'd have a ball. She weeded out the bad ones, and the troublemakers, choosing girls who were bright, intelligent, and were easy to get along with, and she didn't care about how old they were, either. Rachel was no respecter of persons, meaning she accepted them for who they were, and not for their social standing or perceived abilities or ages.

There was one girl, Diana Marie Slocum, who at eleven, was a genius, and at school that made her an outsider, and a social pariah, labelled 'geek' and 'freak', and her life at school was miserable, to say the least.

Rachel took her under her wing, and soon, the preteen was blossoming under the older girls' protection, guidance, and love.

They'd usually be found in Rachel's room, working on a homework problem of one description or another, sprawled across the bed, and having a conversation that revolved around a variety of subjects. If truth be told, she loved Rachel as a big older sister, and Rachel always had time for her.

Diana was a forward girl, who radiated maturity, even at her young age. She'd confessed one time to me, that she'd always felt like she'd been 'born old'.

Rachel had graduated from glasses, to contacts, and she was a stunning beauty, and where there's an attractive teenage girl there's always a teenage boy hanging around somewhere. One young man would make a habit of walking outside our house, sneaking looks at the house, hoping Rachel would look at him.

At first, Rachel used to joke, "My admirer's back!", or something to that effect, but as she got to know him, or about him, (here's a word of warning, fellas. Women have their own intelligence system, and the CIA would be out of business in a heartbeat if the governments of the world adopted it!), she found out that he had slight mental problems, and as much as she felt for him, she didn't want to go there, some things being too painful to confront.

In the end, I had to have a word to his parents, and he didn't come around anymore. I really didn't feel proud of myself afterward.

Then one day, Diana, who was sitting on the Big Chair, her legs tucked under her was drinking hot chocolate, imitating Rachel's way of sitting, the eleven year old looked at me, and dropped a bombshell on me that threatened our very existence. She fixed me with a look, and turning her cup in her hands, said matter-of-factly, "You and Rachel are having sex."

I froze; suddenly tense, and my fight-or-flight response kicked in, and my body went cold. Rachel, who was about to enter the room, stopped dead, and she went pale, looked at me, and went still. Then, gathering her courage, walked quietly over to me, and sat down, and held my hand.

We three looked at each other, and then Diana nodded, and said, "No denial. No guilt. That means you are not sorry for it happening. I had to be sure."

She gave a mysterious smile, and said, "I won't judge you. I seduced my father when I was nine. I was waiting for my body to catch up, but I couldn't wait any longer. It hurt the first time, of course, because this body wasn't ready for him, but he tried to be so gentle with me, and so I forgave him his mistakes."

She smiled into her cup, and said quietly, "He's such a dear man. I couldn't have asked for better."

"It's easy to spot", she continued, looking up at us. "Once you've crossed that line, you can see the signs, if you look for them."

Rachel and I sat there, everything around us forgotten, shocked to our core at this startling disclosure, not knowing what to say, or do. Diana had put a noose around our necks, and had willingly done the same for herself, and her father, sharing and entwining our fates, and we were now party to all of our hidden secrets.

"So, what happens now?" I asked this mature woman who was trapped inside a preteen's body.

She just sat there, her old eyes watching us, and she said, "Nothing. We carry on, and don't tell anybody, of course. We all have our secrets, and our various skeletons hidden away in our respective closets, and so that now we know where we all stand, nothing changes. You continue your relationship in your own way, and I will mine with my father. My mother left us when I was a child, or", she grinned ruefully, "younger than I am now, and if she'd stayed around, that could have made things a bit, shall we say, difficult?"

She laughed, but it was as a grown woman, not a child, who did. She stood, and put her cup down. "I really must go now. Dad will be home from work soon, and he enjoys having dinner waiting for him. It lightens his responsibilities to have me cook for him, and I enjoy doing so for him". She gave Rachel a look, and said, "I hear you bake! We'll have to have a bake-off!"

Diana moved to the door, and stopped, turned to us as we sat there stunned by this development, and said, "Expect a call in a couple of days. Dad and I belong to an exclusive group, and so do you now. It would relieve him of his burden of guilt knowing he's not alone. He really needs another male to talk to, someone who knows what he's going through, and someone who won't judge him."

"I hope you'll do this for me," she asked, her eyes soft, "because I love him dearly, and who knows," she said looking at my crotch, "maybe we can do a foursome!"

Then she giggled, and walked out of the door.

As the door closed and latched my sister and I just sat there, our heads swimming, and I felt a great relief, an unburdening, like a death sentence over my head that had been pardoned.

Rachel looked shocked, and said, "Nine? She gave herself at nine? Holy shit!"

We sat there, dinner forgotten, and talked it out, and no resolutions were arrived at, and we agreed to leave things as they were until the Phone Call, and then went to our respective beds, and I know neither of us got much sleep that night.

That Friday, early evening, I was on the computer, researching incest, and its various forms and punishments, waiting for dinner to cook. It was pot roast, and I had made plenty, as I liked it cold as well, when the phone rang. Rachel was there in an instant, and we both looked at it, like it was a rattlesnake waiting to bite us if we picked it up. Rachel, who was nearest to it, picked it up finally, and said, "Hello? Marks residence."

She listened for a moment, and then handed the phone to me, a scared look in her eyes. She hugged herself, and looked worried. I took it, my hands sweaty. I said "Hello? This is Alfie Marks," and a quiet, deep male voice, shy and trembling a little, said, "Mr Marks? This is Robert Williamson; I believe you know my daughter, Diana?"

I said yes, she was a friend of my sister, Rachel. He sounded relieved, and said, "Mr Marks; I believe we have something in common. Can Diana and I come over and talk about it with you? As soon as possible, if that's alright with you?"

I took a deep breath, and told him that if he liked pot roast, why don't they come over for dinner tonight?"

There was a moment of silence, and I could faintly hear a whispered conversation in the background. He must have had his hand over the receiver, and was talking to Diana. Then he came back onto the line, and said, that would be fine, and what time should they come over, and did they need to bring anything?

I told him six-thirty, and nothing else, unless they wanted to. He had a smile in his voice, and promised to be here then, said goodbye, and rung off.

I didn't realise I'd been holding my breath, and let it out slowly, somewhat alleviated, yet more wound up.

"So that's it then," I said to Rachel. "We have guests for dinner, so I guess I'll put more vege's on!" Then I got up, and to keep my hands from trembling, I peeled a few more potatoes, and tried not to think of the coming meal.

When the knock at the door came, both Rachel and I leapt to our feet, and almost ran to the door, yet dreading to do so. We stood there as it opened, a united front, and when the door opened, I felt a sense of disappointment, astonishing me for some reason. Robert Williamson didn't look how I'd pictured him, but don't ask me to tell you how I had done so, as I couldn't even if I tried.

He stood just over six feet, good looking in a rugged way, and he was tanned and fit, his belly flat, slightly muscular, causing Rachel to murmur appreciatively, and he had an open face. I could see worry in his eyes, and he held Diana around the shoulders, a little bit possessively, and also for comfort, for him, mainly.

He had a full head of blonde hair, and he wore glasses, being short-sighted I guessed, correctly as it turned out later as we chatted in the living room. He'd bought a bottle of sparkling white wine, and I looked at the label, and complimented him on his choice, knowing the winery, which caused him to raise his brows in surprise, and he smiled in appreciation.

I had visited it while on a road trip, and ended up buying a case of their vintage wine, sweet and smooth, just the way I liked it.

When they were inside, we sat in the living room, and we got to know them, and they us, but the real subject of their visit wasn't mentioned, and we fenced back and forth, neither side wanting to bring it out into the open. We were wary, not wanting to say the wrong thing, unable to say the first word about the 'I' subject.

Then it was dinner time, and I opened the wine, getting glasses for all of us, and Robert and Diana relaxed, as did Rachel and I, then we were full, and dinner was over, the bottle empty. The two girls said they were going to do the dishes, 'to give us men a chance to talk, ' giving us a meaningful look, and pointing at the living room. We looked at each other, and grinned sheepishly. Robert said to me as we went in, "Do they always know how to make a grown man feel like child?" He was grinning still, and had broken the ice by making a joke. I smiled back and told him, "don't worry, it was in their genes", and we both stopped, turned at the same time, and looked at their butts as the girls stood at the sink, their jean clad rear-ends looking really good, and then they must have felt our eyes on their derrieres, because they turned and with mock severity, shooed us out, giggling.

We sat there like two schoolboys, looking, yet not looking, at each other. Rachel and Diana came in, handed us each a coffee, and went to Rachel's room, leaving us alone to talk. Robert sipped his coffee, and hummed appreciatively. "She always knows how to make a great cup of coffee," he said, meaning his daughter. "She can brighten up a rainy day, just by doing so."

"Same with Rachel," I replied. "She taught herself all the basics after moving in with me. She's a quick study, and never gets it wrong more than once."

Then Robert put his cup down onto the coffee table, and sat back, and said, "Okay, Alfie. May I call you Alfie? Call me Bob. We both know what we have to talk about. I admit it to you, I'm just too damn scared to start off, because I'm not sure I believe what Diana told me about you."

I gazed at this scared, defensive, and defenceless man in my living room, who kept rubbing his hands down his jeans, his hands sweaty, and I could sympathise, because mine were too. I put down my cup, and I took the bull by the horns, saying, "Okay Bob. This is how it goes, and I'm going to be completely honest with you, no holding back. Judge me if you will, but you're going to get the truth!"

Then, leaning forward, I fixed my eyes on his, and said, "Bob, I'm having sex with my sister. We make love occasionally, and I took her virginity. She gave it to me, actually, as she wanted to claim me as her own. I have no qualms about sleeping with her. I love her, and I am not sorry, nor am I feeling guilty about what we do. That's our life, and come hell or high water, we aren't going to be stopping anytime soon!"

After that speech, I sat back, the ball in his court now.

Bob sat there digesting what I'd told him, and he had a quizzical look on his face.

"Diana was a precocious child", he said quietly. "She was always smart, intelligent, I mean, and she was always so much more mature than her mother. She used to pull her mother up all the time for not looking after me properly, and somehow, she found out about our sex life, or lack of it, after she turned three. It was an easy birth, like she couldn't wait to come out and experience the world around her. After Diana was born, Lorraine didn't want me to touch her, pushing me away and telling me no, even if I tried to hold her, to give her hug!"

He rambled back and forth, trying to get his thoughts in a coherent order. He stopped talking, and took a sip of his coffee. I did the same.

"When Diana was five" he continued, "she'd had an argument with Lorraine. Diana asked her flat out why she didn't have sex with me anymore! She even asked her mother if she was having an affair! I heard it all! They were at each other, hammer and tongs, and it was a doozy! But when Diana asked her mother that question, Lorraine went pale, and didn't say a word. My whole world came crashing down, and I was heart-broken. I didn't know! I had no idea. Lorraine walked out a couple of days after that, and left us alone."

"Diana just stepped into her mother's shoes after that. She'd sleep in my bed, she'd shower with me, we'd wash each other and we came to know each other's bodies intimately. She was helping me with the chores, and she was like she was always in a hurry, like she was waiting for something to happen, but it wasn't until she turned nine that she told me she wanted to have sex with me."

"I just couldn't, you know?" His eyes were stricken, and tears came into his eyes, to run down his cheeks. I felt for him. I knew something of the battle he'd had with himself. I nodded, and told him so.

"I hadn't touched another woman after Lorraine walked out of our lives, and when I masturbated, all I could see in my fantasies was Diana's body as I washed her in the shower. I felt unclean, a monster in the dark, and yet, when she'd hold out her arms to me, I always picked her up and held her, and I'd fall in love with her every time!"

"Then that fateful night happened, just after she'd turned nine. We were lying in bed, and she reached over, took me into her hand, told me I wasn't to play with myself any more, that she was going to take care of me from now on, and that she'd waited long enough."

I felt a shiver run down my spine, our stories were so alike, too damn familiar!