Tiptoeing to the front of the tent, so as not to disturb Liz, Jason stepped out into the night. He glanced around the campsite, but could not locate the source of the sobs.
His eyes moved around the edge of forest, but saw nothing except shadows and trees. Walking away from his tent, he moved toward the river. There he saw her, his sister Mona, kneeling on the bank, holding her head in her hands and crying.
Immediately, his strides lengthened into a trot. Within seconds he was beside her, kneeling and taking her into his arms. Her own arms encircled him, holding him tightly.
"Jason," she managed to say between her sobs.
"Little sister," he whispered; his hand caressed the raven blackness of her hair. "What's the matter? What's wrong with my little sister?"
She shook her head, nestling into the hollow of his shoulder. "Nothing."
"Hey now, all these tears can't be over just nothing." His voice was gentle and soothing. "Remember me; I'm your big brother."
She sniffed a bit, her head lifting to him. Her eyes were red and tears streamed down her face, but she managed a little smile. "And my big brother Jason could always make things better."
"Now, I never claimed to be able to do the impossible," he chuckled, hoping to cheer her. "But I've always tried to help when I could."
"Jason, oh, Jason."
Mona broke into sobs again. Her body shuddered violently. There was nothing he could do now, except to hold her and let her have her cry. Which is what he did.
At least fifteen minutes passed before Mona quieted again. She clung to him even longer, before eventually easing back. Her head did not rise, but she stared out, watching the river.
"Feel better?" Jason asked, his hand squeezing his sister's.
"Just cried out," Mona said. "There's no more tears left in me. I was surprised there were this many after this long. I thought they were all gone."
After this long? Jason wasn't sure what she meant. "Would it help to talk about it?"
"Talk it over like we used to when we were kids?" Mona glanced at him, then back to the river. "I don't know if it would help. We're not kids any more. We've both grown up and have got families of our own now. We don't have the same problems we had when we were kids. God, how simple all those worries seem now, whether or not Billy Smith was going to take me to the prom, what dress to wear to the after-game dance. So simple, almost ridiculous now."
"They weren't ridiculous then," Jason answered. "And I don't think what's bothering you now is ridiculous. Times change and so do the problems."
"But you don't, do you, Jason?" Mona looked at him, her dark eyes pleading. "You're still the same, still my big brother Jason, steady and strong, and willing to lend his little sister a sympathetic ear."
"I don't think that'll ever change. After all, you are my sister and I do still love you."
Mona leaned to him and kissed his cheek. "I know. But it's hard to bare one's soul, even to a brother. Especially when it has to do with something this personal."
"Frank?"
She nodded. "Is it that obvious?"
"No. Just a guess. There's not many things that will get a woman up in the middle of the night. A husband happens to be one of those things though."
"I don't know where to start," Mona said. "In some ways, it seems like this has been going on forever. But Frank and I have been married for only six months…"
Jason listened. It hurt to hear everything his sister revealed. Yet, it wasn't that unusual a story, a husband that used his wife, no matter what the reason. The age of sexual freedom wasn't that free. People still had sexual hang-ups and it seemed the majority of those people were men. Frank just happened to be one of them. What hurt was that he was married to Mona, and she, in turn, had suffered from his sickness.
The usual story was one of possession – a wife is a husband's property, or vice versa. It's hard to accept one's spouse as a human being, despite everything lovers proclaim to one another. Marriage and that legal slip of paper two people sign often is thought to mean "you belong to me, lock, stock and barrel". To be owned by another person makes the owned person nothing but chattel, something to be used.
But as Jason listened, he realized there was something deeper wrong with Frank, something that went beyond the normal property hang-ups usually shared by married couples. Exactly what his problem was eluded Jason. He wasn't a trained psychiatrist and a man that treated his wife that way obviously needed help.
"… That's it," Mona said. "I don't know what to do. I've tried everything I could think of and it's all fallen on its face. Damn it, when I'm around Frank, I don't even feel like a woman any more."
"You're still a woman," Jason whispered, pulling his sister to him and holding her tightly. "You don't ever have to doubt that, just look in the mirror. You're a woman, quite a beautiful one."
"Big brother inflating little sister's ego. You were always good at that, Jason," Mona said, her head lifting to his. "Why couldn't Frank be like you?"
With that she once more kissed his cheek. Her arms tightened around her brother, holding him close.
What exactly happened next Jason was never totally sure of. One moment Mona's lips were against his cheek in a sisterly kiss, and in the next instant, her lips were pressed to his. The kiss was far from being sisterly. Her tongue flicked out and taunted his lips, teasing at them, cajoling them to open.
And his reaction went beyond brotherly love. His mouth opened and accepted the offering of her tongue as it moved inward. His arms tightened, pulling her to him, while her tantalizing oral digit dueled over and under his tongue.
Beneath the fabric of her nightgown, he could feel the warmth of his sister's body. His fingertips could feel her slight trembling, a quivering sensation he was sure was not caused by the coolness of the night. It was the same trembling he now felt within himself.
Mona's tongue coyly retreated from his mouth. He followed it with his tongue, delving intimately into the sweetness of his sister's mouth. She moaned softly, nestling even closer against him as he toyed and teased, his tongue flicking and probing toward her throat.
He was suddenly aware of the persistent cushion of her breasts. Warm mounds of flesh pushing out from beneath her gown, rolling over his shirtless chest. And atop each of those fleshy pillows was a hard pebble-like nipple, each trying to dig small holes in his skin.
This woman, this woman he found in his arms, was his sister. Yet there could be no denying the sensations astir in his loins. His testicles tightened in their sac with the old familiar feeling of want and desire. He knew in that instant that if Mona wanted him, he was willing to enter her body. Whatever social taboos existed against a brother and sister sharing the same bed didn't matter, not here and now.
They parted. Mona's head tilted back a bit, her dark eyes meeting his. Her expression was uncertain, filled with the realization that she had tasted forbidden fruit. But when he made no indication that their action was wrong a small smile danced at the corners of her sensuous mouth.
"I wanted that," she said softly. "I think I've always wanted that."
Jason didn't answer, except to pull her to him once again, his mouth covering hers. Passion rose in their kiss. They clung to one another, brother and sister, man and woman, lovers. Their hands now explored their faces, caressing cheeks, tracing the lines of their mouths. They stared at each other, love shining in their longing gaze. They kissed, then kissed again, losing themselves in their embrace.
"Love me, Jason," the black-haired woman who was his sister whispered when they parted again. "Make love to me. Make me your woman, even if it's only for this moment."