TABOO TALES(erotica)

Dirk stood behind Chelsea as she showed them proudly around her apartment. This was the first time he had been close to her and he examined her with interest. She was wearing cut off shorts and a tank top, and her body was lean and trim, her skin burnished by the sun to a golden lustre. Her waist was slim under the little blue top, dipping smoothly to the swell of her hips, and he could see the curve of her firm little buttocks under the tight material of her shorts. Her blonde hair was drawn back in a ponytail, and could see the fine golden whorls of gold on the nape of her neck and on the soft white skin behind her ear. He leaned forward slightly and breathed in through his nose, savouring the subtle aroma of her perfume and the musky tang of a young healthy woman, and he felt his cock thicken in his pants.

She moved from the kitchen, past the central workbench, passing by the dining room table and into the lounge. Everything was neat and new in its right place, giving a sense of order. His eyes roamed over the worktops as he followed her, noting the calendar hung on the side of the cabinet and the keys dangling on little hooks below it, each with their own little labels. Everything he saw told him a little about his new sister, but he needed to know so much more if he was to dismantle her life.

He stopped and glanced around quickly. The girls were ahead of him, chatting. He reached up and palmed the key under the label ‘spare’, transferring it to his pocket as he hurried to catch up with them. Perhaps it would fit the front door. He turned to Chelsea, smiling down at her. “This is a lovely flat, Chelsea. How long have you lived here?”

“It’s Ben’s actually, Dirk – he’s my brother. He’s away at the moment, but we share. It helps him with the mortgage and it’s convenient for me, too.”

“Did you buy it together?”

She shook her head. “Oh no, he’d already bought it. It was pretty rough inside, so he got it at a good price. He’s spent the last few months renovating it, and I moved in three weeks ago.” She waved her hand at the kitchen. “That was a separate room, for example,” she said, “but he opened it all up. It’s nice, isn’t it?”Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

“When does your brother get back?”

Chelsea smiled, noticing again the extraordinary colour of his eyes… a sort of smoky yellow, the irises shot through with flecks of gold and black – and watchful, like those of a leopard. “On Wednesday… a short trip only. He’s just been appointed a Director to the Company though, so he comes and goes a fair bit.”

Cielle spoke up. “He’s done such a good job with the flat,” she said. “I’d love something like this. Do they come on the market very often?”

Dirk turned his gaze on her, his pupils as black as chips of obsidian. “I thought you liked living at home, Sis.”

Her eyes slid guiltily to his face. “I do, Dirk… it’s just that – well, I can’t live at home for ever.”

“Of course you can, Cielle. Whatever would we do without you?” He forced a smile, aware that Chelsea was watching. “Perhaps we can buy a place together when the time comes.”

She nodded, her head bobbing like a puppet’s. “Yes, yes… I wasn’t thinking about anytime soon, Dirk… you know, it’s just a thought for the future.” Her voice trailed off and she sat in misery, her head down.

Chelsea looked at Cielle. She had noticed the uneasy interplay between her and Dirk when they arrived – almost one of subservience and control. It was not a good relationship, she decided. She glanced again at the girl’s belly, rounded with what may have been the first signs of pregnancy, and she wondered who the father was. Cielle hadn’t mentioned anyone in her life, and Chelsea hadn’t liked to ask, just in case she wasn’t pregnant. She shifted her glance to Sarah, sitting alone on the sofa with a book on her lap, her fingers touching the glossy pages and her lips moving soundlessly. She’d not said a word since she arrived, but Chelsea could see from the way that she looked at Cielle with her soft empty eyes that she loved her sister. She seemed happy, but it was clear that she was quite severely disabled.

In a moment of insight Chelsea saw the three figures like actors in a theatre and she found herself being drawn into the play, like an improperly briefed performer who suddenly finds herself on a stage with no time to understand the plot or read the script. She shook her head – this was one weird family, but it was important to get on with them for her father’s sake.

She turned to them brightly. “Now, can I get anyone a drink?”

*

It was just after 9 o’clock the next morning when Dirk tried the front door. He’d watched Chelsea drive away and he’d hurried upstairs, unsure if she had a cleaner who might interrupt him. The duplicate key he’d had cut slipped into the deadlock without difficulty, and he heard the click as the mechanism slid back. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, alert for an alarm but finding none. As easy as that, he thought.

The flat was quiet, everything as neat and clean as a new pin. He replaced the spare key on the keyboard in the kitchen and then moved quickly to the bedroom she’d said was hers, his feet silent on the thick carpet. The bed was neatly made, the covers smoothed down so that not a single wrinkle marred the surface. He opened the bedside drawers but there was nothing in them, and he turned to the dressing table under the window, sliding open each drawer carefully. There were a few things inside – some candles in a box, spare pillowcases, an unopened packet of Tampons.

He moved quickly to the ensuite bathroom, noting the shining glass of the shower cubicle and the new bar of soap in the tray. The cabinet above the sink was almost empty – a few bottles of pills, some shampoo, a new tube of toothpaste and some ear wicks. The towels on the towel rack were dry. This is a guest suite, he thought, hardly ever used.

He slipped silently into the other bedroom, keeping clear of the windows that overlooked the street. The bed was made but there was a book on the bedside cabinet, open and face down. He lifted the pillow and pressed it to his face, smelling the faint aroma of her perfume… so, she slept here. The cabinet drawer was filled with her things – some pills, emery boards, a tube of fungal ointment and some contraceptive pills. At the back was a bag made of soft material and he drew it out and opened it, staring down at the vibrators inside.

He crossed to the other cabinet and opened it – a book on cars, a pair of glasses, aspirin. There was a sheaf of papers there too, held together with a clip, and he lifted them out and read the title: ‘Proposed Rationalisation of the Marketing Department. A report by Benjamin Rogers, Director Marketing.’ There were notes appended across the pages in blue ballpoint, and Dirk noticed the pen in the drawer.

He carefully replaced the material and checked the rest of the room. Her clothes were in the wardrobe hanging alongside of his, and the drawers of the sideboard were filled with her underclothes. He entered the bathroom, noting the damp towel and the wet shower, lifting the lid of the laundry basket. It was half full, her tank top and shorts on the top; he lifted them to find a wispy pair of panties and he carried them through to the bedroom and sat on the bed.

Dirk rested his hand on the pillow, imagining the soft skin of her face and the fragrant curtain of her hair resting against it. He could almost feel the warmth of her body retained in the weave of the fabric. This bed is where both of them sleep, he thought. He pressed her panties to his face and breathed in, his senses suddenly filled with her image – the slim body and the warm ripe lips. He could smell talcum powder and perfume and the faint aroma of her sex, and he imagined how the material in his fingers must have rubbed against her labia as she sat on the sofa in front of him the day before, and how it would have absorbed her essence.

He lifted the thin fabric from his face and turned it, and he pressed the tip of his tongue against the gusset. This is what her brother tastes when he fucks her in this bed he thought. He laughed into the fragrant material, the power of what he had found popping and fizzling in his brain like a narcotic. I have the power to destroy her now, he thought, but first I’ll have a little fun.

*

Chelsea Rogers ran to the front door and flung her arms around her brother as he entered the room. He dropped his bag on the floor and hugged her, his face buried in the fragrant cloud of her hair.

“Wow, Chelsea – now that’s a welcome!”

She broke free and looked up at him, her teeth very white against the golden lustre of her skin. “It seems ages since you went, Ben.” She smiled shyly. “I’ve made supper, but I thought it might wait a little, if you like.”

He laughed. “You must be a mind reader.”

“Then come with me.” She took his hand and led him through to the bedroom. The bed was turned down and a bottle of champagne and two glasses stood beside it. The room was lit by dozens of candles, and she had scattered rose petals over the sheets, crimson against the white linen.

He stopped at the door in surprise. “Chelsea, this is beautiful.”

She held his arm, her face turned towards his. “You’ve no idea how much I missed you, Ben,” she said, shyly.

He smiled. “I guess about as much as I missed you.” He could see her eyes, soft with love, the pupils dilated and the irises a soft milky grey like the inside of a dove’s wing. Her lips were open, inviting, and he bent down and kissed them, feeling her body arch in response and her arms slipping up around his neck. He grasped the hard little globes of her buttocks and lifted her, feeling her legs close around his hips and the press of her hair against his cheek as the angle of her face shifted. He could feel her breasts, too, pressing against his shirt, and he imagined the nipples rising against him, like little red cherries. Her tongue was slithering into his mouth, dancing against his, and he could taste the sweetness of her as he carried her to the bed.