Terminal Case

Paige pulled off her baggy sweat pants and her own bikini briefs and stepped into the tiny thong. She drew the strings up her long legs and positioned the tiny fabric triangle over her pussy lips. She hitched up her t-shirt and sauntered over to Lucy's dressing mirror to admire herself.

Paige had always made it a point to keep her bush neatly trimmed, but even her abbreviated pubic hairs were spilling out the top of the tiny panties. Paige had never seen any reason to wear a thong - when she had been worried about visible panty lines she was more than happy to just go without underwear altogether - but she had to admit that the tiny panties made her feel quite sexy.

Maybe there was a matching bra! Paige went back to her niece's underwear drawer and dug around. She pulled the drawer out all the way and pushed aside anything plain and white. She didn't see any more red lingerie, but she did find a plastic baggie full of a green, leafy material. Paige yanked it out and held it up to the dim light. There was about half a handful of dried marijuana buds and a few small slips of rolling papers.

"Lucy," Paige grinned. She hadn't gotten high since college, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity. "You are my new favorite relative."

Paige rushed to the window and threw up the sash. She quickly and deftly rolled a tight joint and fired it up with a cigarette lighter from her purse. She drew a heavy toke and reveled in the sharp sting as the fumes filled her lungs. Soon her troubled mind was filled with a pleasant fog as the drug took effect. Paige sat in the window looking out over the lights of the city and blowing puffs of acrid smoke into the night air. She was feeling relaxed for the first time in a month.

The sweet high made all of her problems drift into the background - faded and unimportant. That was why she had finally quit, Paige remembered. She had been on the verge of not caring about anything at all. Now of course it didn't matter.

She smoked out the last of the joint and tossed the smoldering nub out into the street. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warm, fuzzy high and the cool night air caressing her nearly bare ass. Paige put her hand on the tiny triangle of her borrowed panties and felt the heat of her sex through the thin fabric. Another thing she remembered from college: getting high had always made her irrationally horny.

Unable to think of any reason not to, Paige slowly slid aside the miniscule front panel of the thong and slipped a finger between her pussy lips. Easy access, she thought vaguely, was another benefit of this style of underwear. She dropped back onto the frilly, pink bed and imagined being ravished by a strong, aggressive lover. She quickly climaxed with two fingers of her left hand thrusting into her wet opening and one finger from her right hand rapidly stroking her engorged love button.

Paige woke the next morning feeling well-rested and refreshed. She quickly closed the window which she had forgotten the night before and wriggled out of Lucy's red thong. She hid that and the baggie of pot back in Lucy's underwear drawer and went to breakfast.

She managed to get through the morning without exploding at Margaret. It helped that her sister-in-law spent much of the time vacuuming the apartment. Paige sat on the sofa clicking through television channels. Paul and Margaret had about three thousand channels, but there wasn't a thing worth watching on any of them.

That afternoon when Paige stumbled out of her daily radiation treatment feeling like a reanimated corpse, the young nurse from the day before helped guide her out to the waiting room.

"The woman who isn't your girlfriend has a surprise for you," the nurse said with a sweet smile.

"Great," Paige croaked. She was too exhausted to compose a witty retort. She hoped the sarcastic tone came through. In the waiting room, Margaret was proudly standing behind a chrome and black wheelchair.

"Oh, Paige you poor thing," Margaret patted the seat. "Come along, dear, and we'll get you home."

"Fuck," Paige mumbled. She fully intended to tell Margaret where to stick her wheelchair. Paige was not an invalid! She didn't need to be wheeled around. She didn't get a chance to say that, however, because the room seemed to be expanding and contracting like it was painted on the inside of a balloon with Paige trapped in the middle. Instead she collapsed into the waiting wheelchair and tried to tuck her pounding head under her arm. "Fuck," she mumbled again.

Margaret wheeled Paige out of the clinic and into the street. Paige felt ridiculous being wheeled down the sidewalk, but she had to admit it was a lot easier than walking. Especially since she could close her eyes against the knives of sunlight stabbing into her aching head.

"Margaret," Paige said reluctantly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Thanks for the chair."

"Oh, you're welcome," Margaret cooed. She smoothed a rebellious strand of Paige's short hair and went on pushing the wheelchair. "It's such a long walk for you, you know."

"Why is Paul sleeping in the guest room?" Paige blurted. "He says it's because of snoring, but I know that's bullshit."

"Oh! What? Oh, well ... ummm ... did he say that? It's just that ... you know ... ummm."

"Shit, Margaret," Paige insisted with an exaggerated wheeze. She wasn't above playing the Terminal Illness Card. "You can trust me."

"Oh, I know, I know. It's because, well," Margaret leaned over the back of the wheelchair to whisper in Paige's ear, "it's because of sex."

"Paul is having an affair?" Paige was incredulous. She didn't think her brother could even spell extramarital.

"Oh, no. No," Margaret shook her head. "Paul would never do anything remotely like that."

"Well, what then?" Paige insisted. Margaret was clearly uncomfortable with the subject, which made Paige all the more interested.

"Paul has these episodes, you see," Margaret said quietly. "Like sleepwalking. Except instead of walking, he ... you know ... does other things."

"Sex?" Paige asked. "He has sex in his sleep? With you?"

"Yes," Margaret admitted with a tortured sigh.

"Well, that's not so bad," Paige blurted.

"No, it's terrible! He's not himself. He's just brutal and aggressive. Tearing off my clothes like an animal. Forcing himself on me."

"Oh," Paige nodded. That didn't sound so bad to her, either. Paige had often enjoyed a little rough sex from time to time. Not that she was going to tell Margaret that. The short, chubby woman might collapse right there in the street. "Doesn't sound like the Paul I know."

"No, not at all," Margaret agreed. "He says he doesn't remember anything the next day, but ... oh, I just don't know what to believe. He's like a man possessed."

Paige only nodded. For most people "a man possessed" was a figure of speech. Given Margaret's superstitions, however, that might be her literal diagnosis. She needed a marriage counselor, but was probably looking in the Yellow Pages under "exorcist."

That night at dinner Paige watched her brother pray over their food like some sort of overgrown boy scout and tried to picture him getting off on wild sex. It was difficult to imagine. Maybe it was difficult for him to imagine, too. That could be why his subconscious had taken over while he was asleep.

"What's on your mind, Paige?" Paul asked with some concern.

"Oh, nothing," Paige evaded. "Just spacing off."

"I know we get on your nerves ..."

"No!" Paige insisted. "You've been great to let me stay here. It's a big help. These potatoes are delicious," she added, trying to change the subject.

"Thank you," Margaret beamed. "I add a cup of buttermilk. That's the secret."

"But I really regret that we've become so distant over the years," Paul continued. "I haven't respected your ... uhh ... beliefs and I've pushed you away. I apologize for that. I'm glad the Lord has given us ... well ... I'm glad we have this chance to get closer."

"It's just lovely to have you here, dear," Margaret patted her hand condescendingly.

"Thanks," Paige replied quietly. She found that it meant a lot to her that Paul would apologize. She wasn't sure he'd ever actually apologized to her before. He'd prayed to his God for forgiveness plenty of times, but never asked it from her. "I'm glad, too."

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," Margaret told them. Paige looked at Paul and rolled her eyes. He just shrugged as if to say he didn't know what his wife was talking about either. Paige laughed and shook her head. She could see Paul chuckling to himself behind a big fork full of mashed potatoes.

"Cape Hatteras," Paige announced after a few minutes of eating in silence.

"I'm sorry?" Margaret looked up from her food in confusion.

"Remember that summer?" Paige turned to Paul. "We stayed in that tiny, rickety cabin down on the beach."

"Oh, yeah," Paul grinned. "I must have been - what? - fifteen or sixteen. You were ..."

"I was twelve. We ran up and down the beach all day. Or just laid in the sand and watched the sailboats on the bay," Paige said wistfully. It was the last real quality time she had spent with the family. At that age she was finding her parent's expectations increasingly difficult to live up to. More and more she was making her own decisions and setting her own priorities.

"That sounds lovely," Margaret sighed.

"Good memories," Paul agreed. "We always wanted to go back but ... there was never time, I guess."

"Someday I want to go back there," Paige told them. "Just one more time before ... well ... someday."

"Someday you will," Paul got up from his seat and set a gentle hand on her shoulder. Paige patted his hand and smiled. She was going to find a way to help her big brother, she decided. His problem was kinky sex, so that meant she was the one with the expertise for once. Maybe she could help Margaret understand that a little spanking or hair pulling could be fun.

That night Paige crawled into her niece Lucy's pink bed feeling more hopeful than she had in weeks. Nonetheless, even after two hours she was still tossing and turning. She clicked on the lamp and tried reading for an hour. She finally finished the book she had borrowed from Lucy's shelf, but still didn't feel relaxed enough to sleep. The thought of starting another novel was too daunting at that moment, so she pulled out Lucy's stash and rolled another joint.

She sat in the window and felt her cares floating away like the smoke she blew out into the night. The city looked so peaceful from this high up. She knew that was just an illusion. The city was a chaotic, dangerous place. At night more than ever. But it was a useful illusion. Just like the illusion of her troubles floating away on the wind. The troubles were still there, she had just temporarily stopped caring. Fortunately, she didn't care about that either.

Paige tossed the nub into the street, remembered to close the window this time, and slid into Lucy's bed. She thought she might be able to sleep finally. First, she considered the warm feeling in her nether region. Getting high alone and masturbating was pretty pathetic, but it was becoming her routine. She was in no position to complain. You took what you could get.

She slipped her fingers into her panties. She was wet already. Her body seemed to be two steps ahead of her. She visualized big, strong arms holding her down, gently but firmly bending her to their will. She slipped a finger inside her hot, moist opening. Paige gasped with pleasure and imagined her powerful lover thrusting into her again and again. Her fingers acted out her fantasy on her delicate flesh and soon she was near her climax.

Fuck, she needed a fat cock filling her up, not her narrow little fingers. How thick was Paul's cock, she wondered. He was certainly a big man, tall and broad in the shoulders. With his strong arms he could hold her tight, make her do whatever he wanted. She shouldn't be thinking of her brother at a time like this, but she had reached the point of no return. She flung herself over the precipice of orgasm and climaxed with her brother on her mind. That was wrong, she vaguely realized. But that was one more thing she didn't care about at that moment. She drifted off to a peaceful sleep soon after.

The next morning she slept in even later than usual. When she finally crawled out of bed, she was alone in the apartment. Margaret wasn't around anywhere. In the kitchen there was a note that said, "I've gone to the grocery!! There's a pot of coffee on!! Help yourself!! God's Love, Margie"

Paige did just that. The coffee was stale, but she didn't mind. The extra sleep was worth it. She felt more rested than she had in months. She sat at the table going over in her mind what she would say to Margaret. She needed a good metaphor. Something that would help Margaret understand.

"Oh, good, you're up!" Margaret burst into the apartment carrying two overflowing bags of groceries. She set the bags down on the table in front of Paige and then rushed out of the room again. "I'll put those away in a minute, but I have to visit the ladies' room first! Be right back!"

Paige got up and poked through the bags. She didn't really know where this stuff belonged, but she felt obligated to at least try to help. There was ice cream - that would obviously go in the freezer. There was a huge can of something called Crisco, which Paige couldn't even identify and left alone. She was looking through the kitchen cabinets for a place to put baking soda when Margaret returned from the bathroom.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Margaret clucked. "I just had to run to the bathroom quick or I was going to explode."

"That's it!" Paige exclaimed.

"What dear?"

"If you need to use the bathroom," Paige began, "and you try to hold it, it just builds up more and more."

"Oh, I know, dear," Margaret protested. "It's just that the ladies' room at the grocery is so filthy. I'd much rather wait until I get home."

"That's beside the point," Paige shook her head. "What I'm saying, is that if you hold it the need to go keeps building. And if you keep holding it, it builds up even more until you just can't hold it anymore."

"I'm sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?" Margaret said with concern.

"No!" Paige took a deep breath. "The point is that men are like a full bladder. They have this need for sex. If the need isn't met, it just builds up until they explode. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Oh, that's silly," Margaret told her while stuffing a bag of baby carrots into the refrigerator. "People don't need sex. It's a desire of the flesh to test our faith."

"Ok, don't say 'need,'" Paige conceded. She thought the word need was pretty damn accurate, especially for the men she had dated, but was willing to give some ground for the sake of argument. "Just say they really, really want it. And if you ignore your wants, they can build up until they take over."

"Are you talking about Paul?"

"Yes!" Paige exclaimed, pleased that Margaret seemed to be understanding her message. "I was just thinking that maybe if you two were ... you know ... intimate more often then maybe his desire wouldn't take over in the night."

"Nonsense," Margaret scoffed. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"It's not wrong. You are married, for God's sake," Paige growled. She took a deep breath and tried to cool her temper. "It's an expression of love. Just ... you know ... express love a few more times a week."

"A week? A week? I'm not some ... some harlot!" Margaret shrieked.

"Okay, okay. How often do you make love? Two or three times a month?" Paige looked at her sister in law expectantly, but Margaret just crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. "Once a month? Come on, at least once a month?"

"That's none of your concern! Paul and I are done with all that!"

"Done? What do you mean 'done?'" Paige gasped. "You mean ... you mean you don't have sex at all?"

"There is more to life than sex you know! Paul will understand that. He just has to pray and the Lord will give him understanding."

"You can't ask him to live without sex," Paige said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Human beings aren't meant to live that way. Shit, no wonder he's doing these crazy things in his sleep."

"Ha!" Margaret countered. "Look at the priests in the church. They take a vow of celibacy for life. You don't see them doing crazy sex things!"

"There are a few altar boys who might disagree," Paige said wryly.

"Oh, you would say that!" Margaret's chubby face turned beet red. "You have no respect for the church and the truth of God! All you care about is your own earthly pleasures, jumping from bed to bed like a common whore. But you're getting your punishment now, aren't you? God has seen your sin and you are punished!"

Paige said nothing. She just stood in silence, slowly grinding her teeth and glaring at Margaret. Finally she took a step toward her sister-in-law, who cowered away. "Fuck. You," Paige slowly whispered and left the room.

Paige slammed the door of her niece's pink bedroom and collapsed on the bed. You don't care what that dumb bitch thinks, she told herself. She repeated it over and over like a mantra. Even so, hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them away with angry swipes of her palm. She felt like a teenager again, hiding in her room after yet another blow up with her own mother.

She used much the same mantra in those days. Except, she realized, it wasn't true. She did care what her mother thought of her. She just didn't agree. She had never been able to change her mother's opinion - not one iota in all the years of arguing. She wasn't going to be able to change Margaret's mind either.

It would be better to emulate little Lucy and not fight everything head-on. Go ahead and wear the long, plaid skirt, but have a tiny, red thong underneath. Keep your marijuana hidden and keep your opinions to yourself. Paige wished she had been that smart as a teenager.

Margaret was nowhere to be found when Paige left for her appointment at the clinic. That suited Paige just fine. She would have to deal with her sister-in-law sooner or later, but she was more than happy to put it off. The sky was a blanket of dark, gray clouds as she walked the three blocks to the clinic. The atmosphere suited her mood.

Paige felt better after her treatment than she had the day before, which is to say she felt merely awful rather than astoundingly awful. Still it was a relief, because she was going to have to walk the few blocks back to the apartment on her own. In the foyer of the clinic, she looked out the glass doors and saw that the clouds had opened up and were dumping rain down on the streets. Several pedestrians ran past, rushing to get out of the downpour.

"Fuck my life," Paige sighed. It figured that today of all days there would be a storm. She considered just waiting out the rain, but the uncomfortable waiting room chairs reduced her backside to jelly after just ten minutes. She would be better off lying on the floor, and her dignity was not ready to absorb that. Besides, she wanted to get out of that damn place so much Lucy's gaudy pink bedroom seemed like a paradise.

She took a deep breath and pushed through the door. She shuffled onto the soaked sidewalk and felt the rain pelt her. It was cool, even refreshing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, she thought and put one foot in front of the other in the direction of Paul and Margaret's apartment building.

Soon, however, the cool and refreshing rain became cold and stinging. Paige shivered and pushed on. She was already soaking wet so she might as well keep going. She looked up and saw Margaret scurrying down the block toward her, pushing the wheelchair with one hand and holding a multi-colored umbrella over her head with the other.