The Serpent's Bite (15 page)

“I wouldn't have felt blameless.”

“Your problem, Scott. Not mine.” She expelled a breath in exasperation. “You're so prone to guilt. Always cooking up some obstacle to acceptance.”

“It's an affliction you apparently have escaped.”

“I've got a better immune system. Guilt is for idiots.”

He grew thoughtful, squinting into the distance as if searching for something beyond his sight. She had seen this pose of worried concentration many times.

“You're right, Courtney. Guilt sucks.”

She sensed that it was coming to the surface again, their old story, the secret life. Beyond their silence, she could hear the sounds of the coming wilderness evening. Beside them the current of the stream rushed by. Reaching out, she touched his cheek, caressing.

“Poor baby. If it had happened, the reality is that our troubles might have been over.”

“Jesus, Courtney, when you put it that way it sounds …,” he paused, obviously searching for the right word, “… horrific.”

“How else should I put it? I'm being a cold-eyed realist. Face it. There is a lady in the picture. An ill wind is blowing.”

“Leave it alone, Courtney. Gives me the creeps. He's our father.”

“Come on, Scott. Focus on the outcome. It will happen someday. It's obvious he wants to reestablish the old bond. Great. He wants to bond, then let's bond. Frankly, I'd be happy with a steady stipend that does the job for me, and I'm sure you'd be happy if he backed your latest folly…sorry…I mean venture. You're making it sound like I'm advocating some drastic action to hasten the result.”

“Am I?”

“You're just like him, Scottie baby. Sodden with guilt. Doesn't look like all those years of therapy did you any good.”

She searched his face for a reaction. Instead he turned away unable to meet her gaze. She knew she was testing him. The
quagmire episode had, indeed, suggested other possibilities, and for this she needed his cooperation and assistance. His suspicions, she knew, were justified. Before signing on to her previous schemes, he had been difficult and wary, but in the end he had joined her.

“I know you, Courtney,” he muttered, obviously preparing his defenses.

“Do you really?” she asked gently.

“We have history, remember?”

“Yes, we do,” she said, laughing. “What's past is past. Now we have to focus on the future. Hell, that's what Dad is doing. Obviously, he wants to clear the decks for his new journey. Get us all warm and cozy about his new lady. Dear…what was her name? Muriel. An accountant, no less. Speaks volumes. Knows what he's worth. She gets his hooks into him, we're—how shall I put it?—diminished. Perhaps mightily.”

“It's his life,” Scott pouted.

“Exactly. His life and beyond.”

“What are you saying, Courtney?”

“I'm only stating the obvious.”

“There's nothing we can do about it.”

She grew silent, watching his face.

“We can think about it,” she whispered. “This is a big dangerous country.

He swiveled his gaze toward the vast emptiness of the surrounding wilderness.

“I really don't want to hear this, Courtney.”

“Maybe not. But you can't deny—”

“Please. I don't want to think about it.”

“We are in the middle of nowhere,” she pressed. “The possibilities of accident are endless. Drunken, careless guide fucks up.”

“Stop it, can't you?” he cried.

“Still the wimpy brother,” she said, with some impatience. “We still have lots of life to live, and his is—well let's face it—almost over.”

“How can I get you to stop?” he sighed. “It's so…so cold-blooded. This is our father you're talking about. I can't believe this. What's happened to you?”

She could see he was genuinely upset, and she retreated, knowing now it was not over.

“Okay. Okay. I was just—”

“Don't!” he cried.

They were silent for a while. Above all, she did not want to alienate him. He was the first to speak.

“This trip, Courtney. It could resolve those issues between Dad and us. He wants to do right by us. Can't you just feel it?”

“Yes, I can,” she admitted. “Could be he brought us here to explain himself. A new plan for us. Who knows exactly what?”

“Are you saying he is setting us up for some revelation?”

“Could be. Something detrimental.”

She mulled it over further, but the issue she had raised could not be buried. Not now.

“Of course, if it happened
now
. I mean before this other woman gets her hooks into him.”

“Must you?” he whispered.

“Something to chew on, Scott.”

“I'd rather not.”

“I know how you feel. It's an indelicate subject.”

“Indelicate? My God, Courtney! Is that all? It's…it's horrific, macabre. What's going on with you?”

“Yes, Scottie. All of the above.”

He nodded, and their eyes met. His reluctance made persuading him more of a challenge. She felt the sudden press of memory, recalling her earlier tactics. Once again, she needed his alliance and was determined to get it. And she knew the way.

“I'd like to forget you raised it.”

“Forgotten,” she said, crossing her chest with an
x
gesture. “Cross my heart.”

He nodded and met her gaze then quickly tried to turn away. Like a deer caught in the headlights, he couldn't. Moving forward, she embraced him, rubbing her body against him. He tried at first to resist then yielded.

“Please, Courtney.”

“Is it still there, Scottie?”

“Don't, Courtney.”

“A little kiss won't hurt,” she said, searching for his lips. He tried to move his face away, but her lips found his and they kissed deeply. Her hand reached down and caressed his erection.

“Remember, Scottie?”

“I never forgot,” he whispered, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Let it decide,” she whispered.

“Not again, Courtney. Please. Not again. Please.”

“Just a little family reunion. Where's the harm?”

“I couldn't go through that again.”

But he did not disengage.

“You were always the best, Scottie,” she said.

She unzipped him and reached for the bare flesh.

“Jesus, Courtney.”

She stopped abruptly.

“You want me to stop?”

He did not answer.

Without another word, she rolled down his pants, got down on her knees, and began to fellate him.

After a few moments, he cried.

“I can't hold.”

“Let it happen. Let it go, baby.”

He did, and she continued to hold him, swallowing. It took him a while to recover. Miraculously, she too had experienced orgasm, something that hadn't happened in years.

“Same as before, Scottie,” she said. “Don't ask why.”

“It's crazy, Courtney. It comes with a curse.”

“What curse?”

“You know.”

“We're mature people taking our pleasure. Who cares?”

Looking at him, she could not deny the power of the old desire. She was sure he felt the same. She removed her slacks and panties and embraced him again. He reacted, ready again.

“The old Scottie,” she marveled. “Why fight it?”

“I have been fighting it, Courtney. For years.”

He slid to the ground, his back against a tree, and she mounted him.

“We belong like this,” she whispered, sucking his earlobe. She began to move in a circular motion. “Remember? It was never the same for me ever again.”

“For me either. I love you, Courtney. Always. I knew then. I still know.”

His breath came faster.

She felt the urge to scream out her pleasure and did. The effect was multiple waves of sensation.

“Oh God, brother. Fill me up,” she cried, feeling his spasms second hers.

Finally, they quieted and remained attached, beyond speech. This was the way, she decided. Suddenly his chest convulsed with sobs.

“Easy, brother.”

“No,” he sighed. “Not easy at all.”

Suddenly she started.

“Holy shit!” she cried.

“What is it?”

“The fucking Mexican.”

He turned, following her gaze. In the near distance, they saw Tomas holding a fly rod and a number of trout that he had caught in the stream. He watched them for a few moments, smiled thinly, then moved away out of sight.

Suddenly she giggled.

“So much for deep dark secrets.” She said, disengaging. “There's irony for you. We had to come all this way to get outed by some dumb Mexican.”

As they disengaged, Scott made no comment.

I
t had started out as fun and games, harmless sex games. You show me yours, and I'll show you mine. She was fifteen when it began. He was thirteen. Other brothers and sisters did it. She knew because the girls talked about it. Those of her girlfriends who had brothers were surprisingly open and graphic in their descriptions.

Have you ever seen what happens to your brother's thing? It grows, and sometimes he plays with it like a toy until suddenly something white squirts out. He showed me because he asked me if I wanted to see it, and I said yes
.

At first, she had been mildly shocked by their revelations. In her family, modesty was practiced and taught by example. She had never seen her father naked, and it never occurred to her that he and her mother were sexually active. As children, she and her brother were often bathed together, and she had observed their differences with the usual curiosity and casual acceptance. Boys were different from girls.

She and her brother had separate bedrooms from the beginning of memory. Indeed, in many ways, their lives went in different directions. It was a given that all family members were supposed to love each other, which no one ever questioned. There were, of course, brother and sister disputes, but they were always based on possessions, permissions, and alleged equality, which usually resulted in practical compromises engineered by their parents.

At fifteen she viewed herself as an average teenager, thirsty for knowledge and, certainly along with her friends of that age, keenly interested in sexual matters. In her family, sex had of course been alluded to, especially the consequences of pregnancy and disease, but rarely discussed beyond these issues.

Often, she and her girlfriends would talk about boys and their “things.” Although somewhat shocking, it was normal adolescent curiosity. Her girlfriends spread their legs to show each other what they had, some with hair and some still bald, and that, too, became an object of exploration.

There was a girl named Harriet who showed her how to masturbate by tickling the tiny thing on top and moving her fingers on her organ. Harriet illustrated how to make oneself feel really good. She called it “coming,” which was quite strange. Then she demonstrated something called a dildo, which vibrated inside and could make you reach a climax, the ultimate of feeling good. It had a name called “orgasm.”

Soon she had begun doing it to herself—without the vibrator, of course, since she was still a virgin—and discovered she liked it very much indeed. She began to wonder about Scott's “thing,” often teasing him about it when she would see a bulge in his pants or pajamas. His reaction was always embarrassment and confusion. She became persistent in her desire for him to show it to her, promising the usual trade-off. You show me yours, and I'll show you mine. At such suggestions Scott continued to be embarrassed and reluctant to take her up on the offer.

It seemed to her so natural. She did not see it in terms of taboo or sin, although she knew that there was obviously something forbidden about a brother and sister playing this
kind of sex game. Outwardly, she continued to be modest, making a great show of indignation when her father or brother accidentally walked in on her when she was in the bathroom. But despite her brother's continued reluctance to participate, she was relentless in her pursuit. Then one day, she had acted. He was in his room doing homework. Her parents were out.

She came into his room in panties and bra and sat on his bed.

“You want to see it?” she asked boldly.

He was, as usual, embarrassed, but at that point, for whatever reason, he had turned his swivel chair and looked at her. She was determined and quickly rolled down her panties, kicked them off, and spread her legs.

She remembered watching his Adam's apple slide up and down his throat while his eyes fixated on her exposed genitals, well-coated then with hair, the lips red and aroused.

“Now you,” she ordered.

He shook his head.

“I can't. You're my sister.”

“Just show me, Scott. Just that. No harm in that.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Finally, she got up from the bed and opened his belt and pulled down his pants. He made what seemed like token resistance, but in the end she had her way. He was fully aroused, and there was a bead of moisture on top of it.