"You actually believe that?"
"Yes," she said, looking at him only for a split second before turning away. God, but he was handsome! And, how could anything as attractive and as angelic be evil personified?
There was a pregnant pause, disturbed only by the creak of rotting wood as Craig sat down on the dead log beside his sister.
"Marne told me last night that you and John were having marital problems."
"Yes, problems," Melissa muttered, hardly surprised that the secret wasn't a secret. Melissa doubted if Creagon had really needed Marne to tell him anything.
"John loves you, you know that, of course?"
"Yes, I know that," Melissa said. But, did Creagon have any idea just how disgustingly perverted that love had become? Yes, maybe he did! Maybe Creagon didn't even consider it perverted love, as Melissa somehow suspected Creagon had never really come to admit that other abomination was perverted either.
"But, you no longer love him?" Creagon asked wondering why his sister wouldn't look at him. Was she afraid?
"I'm going to divorce him," Melissa said, "as soon as the estate goes through probate. I'll, of course, see that he's given a substantial monetary settlement. He should have no trouble finding himself someone more suitable. He, after all, is quite attractive; and, money will make him totally irresistible."
"There is no hope for a reconciliation, then?"
"He's not the man I married, Creagon," Melissa said breaking a piece of rotten bark off the log.
"What you mean is, he's more a man than what you married, don't you?"
Melissa looked up quickly, locking her blue eyes momentarily with the gaze directed at her from Creagon's blue eyes. Did Creagon know, then? Did he know? But, then, know what? What could Creagon possibly know? John and she had simply drifted apart, gone separate ways. It happened sometimes in the best of marriages.
Melissa broke the eye-to-eye contact first, glancing back toward the water.
"I shall hate our father until my dying breath for what he's done to you, Melissa," Creagon said.
"Just what exactly has he done to me?" Melissa asked, not knowing whether or not she really wanted to hear Creagon's answer.
"He's turned a loving little girl into a frigid woman who prefers eunuchs to real honest-to-God men."
"That is a spiteful thing for you to say!" Melissa said, her voice cracking as it issued loudly from her throat. She stood up, facing her brother, genuine anger darting out of her eyes to pinion him to the log he'd remained sitting on.
"It's true, though, isn't it?" Creagon asked, not to be deterred by his sister's theatrics. "John went off to war and came back too much of a man for you to handle, didn't he?"
"I should have known you'd find a way to defend him," Melissa said, disappointed that her brother wasn't siding with her like he once most assuredly would have done.
"There was a time I very well remember when you exulted with a real man's cock buried to its cum-filled balls up your cunt. So, what happened, Melissa? What for Christ's sake happened?"
The vulgarity! A real man's cock? And, Melissa very well knew to whose cock Creagon was referring, didn't she? The perverted, egotistical sonofabitch! She had been a fool to shoulder the guilt all of these years when it was obvious Creagon was more to blame than she had been.
"I think this conversation has gone far enough," Melissa said, turning to head back to the house. She let out a startled scream when she felt Creagon's restraining hand clamp hard into her right arm and spin her back to face him.
"Don't be a fool, Melissa," Creagon said.
God, he was handsome. God, he was handsome. God, he was handsome.
"My private life is my own personal affair," Melissa told him, wincing with the pain where his fingers had squeezed her arm. She wondered vaguely if she would have a bruise.
"Listen, Melissa, the old man is dead now. He's gone and buried. You've no longer got him standing over your shoulder, ready to shake his head in disgust and send you off to convent school because of every little harmless thing you decide to do."
Ah ha! Harmless? So, he actually did look on what they had done as harmless! Melissa had known that he would. But, she didn't think of it as harmless, did she? And if she once had, then that time was long gone and forgotten. Because, they had both sinned. Oh, yes, they had both sinned. Against man. Against God. And, here Creagon came again, after fifteen long years, like the Devil to give temptation, to tell Melissa it was all right, that it had all been innocent after all. But, it was too late to fool her now. Because, she knew better. Creagon was wrong; because, how could Melissa have been punished for so long for having done something that was innocent and harmless?
"Husbands and wives grow apart; and so, obviously, do brothers and sister," Melissa said, mustering up all of her effort to retain control of her mounting fear.
And, what exactly was she afraid of?
"Don't let him control your life even from the grave," Creagon pleaded with her.
Did he really think they had been innocent in that bed, doing what they had been doing? If he did, Melissa could envy him his ignorance.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Melissa said. "I'm not a child that I don't control my own life. Nor have I been a child for a good many years. Actually, father liked John. He didn't even know that I was planning to…"
Creagon grabbed her, pulled her surprised body hard against his. His chest mashed against her breasts, his belly against her stomach, his crotch in between her legs.
And his cock was hard!The perverted bastard's cock was hard!
"Let me go!" Melissa screamed. Her surprise over, she was now overcome by the unadulterated horror of what was happening.
"Our father was a bastard!" Creagon said, his face so close to Melissa's that the young woman could smell the peppermint on his breath. "Even he saw that in the end, didn't he?"
"Let me go, Creagon!" Melissa said, struggling. "Damn it, let me go!"
But, he didn't let her go. He had somehow managed to bring her arms around and up into her back in a double hammerlock. His arms held her body squeezed in an immovable vise. Melissa felt the hard muscle of him down along the whole length of her body.
Why wasn't she able to break free? Surely, no man could have held her quite so securely if Melissa had wanted to be free.
And, why was she finding it difficult to breathe? Because he had her crushed so tightly against him? And, why was her heart beating so fast?›From fear alone? And, why were her legs gone weak, almost like jelly? If Creagon released her right then and there, could she have even stood on her own efforts?
"Don't fight the real you, Melissa," Creagon said. "Don't keep her pent up inside of you, just because she has been forced undercover all of these years. Let her come out now before it's too late. You can't tell me that she doesn't want to come out, because I know differently. I can feel her inside of you as surely as I feel your flesh responding now against my own."
Sick! Jesus, he was sick! What in the hell was he talking about? What real self? What responding flesh?
And, he kissed her. He pressed his lips against hers, forcing them open. He literally sucked her breath away.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Melissa moaned, her senses so confused that she didn't know what was happening. Or, did she indeed know? Was she only rationalizing her having let this obscenity happen?
His tongue was on her gums, her teeth, her tongue. His spit was tainting her saliva with a faintly minty sweetness.
It all conjured memories, sucked them back from the corners of her mind where they had been conveniently filed away. Hints of how it had once been-and had never been again-began to play throughout Melissa's body.