The Sister Ch. 05

"What if Owen wasn't there? What if it was just her... would you do it?"

I thought about it for a minute, before I shook my head emphatically, "No."

"Ooo, a pause. Why not?"

"She's like a decade younger than I am! She's a kid -- mentally, if not physically. It would be so wrong on so many different levels."

"If she's consenting, and you're consenting, and no one would ever know about it..."

"It would still be rape. Sure, she might agree to it, but she doesn't know what she's talking about. I'm sorry, nuh-uh. Nuh-ho-ho-ooo thank you. I'd rather not stick my dick in that viper's nest, thank you very much."

"Every guy I've known would have done it without thinking twice. You live and act like a... like a monk!"

"I..." I paused, swallowing my first retort, and instead said simply, "it's just not my way. Not that sex is a terribly serious thing... but I want it between me and someone else that I respect, that I care for, and that's... not a child, or crazy. Partners. Equals." I shut my mouth before I started to seriously whine, and tried to change the subject, "but, thankfully, it doesn't matter for the moment. I eez not playing 'za field, remember?"

"Men!" Jennifer growled at the ceiling, flinging her hands up in surrender. Whether this was a curse, or an observation, I could not fathom. "Are you even going to read the note she left?"

I glanced over to the note laying on the counter, and while I was tempted... "Nah, I'm sure it'll wait until tomorrow."

"'Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow'?"

"Precisely!" I beamed at Jennifer as she rolled her eyes.

The rest of the night we chatted about inconsequential things while we ate, the movies we've seen, the books we've read, the music we listen to before adjoining to the bedroom to watch the movies on my TV. And, just as promised, I delivered "quality" Japanese sci-fi movies. They were, in a word, bad -- bad dubbing, bad subtitles, horrid acting, cheesy special effects, laughable plot. We laughed, made fun of it, and had a great time.

After a marathon of movies it became quite late, the ice cream was long gone, and we started yawning more than we were laughing, and finally Jennifer called a stop to the proceedings, pausing the movie mid-play to stretch and yawn.

"Feeling better?" I asked, sitting next to her on the bed.

"Much, thank you." She said fuzzily under lidded eyes.

I scooped up the remote and flicked the TV and the DVD player off, and yawned and stretched getting ready to stand, "Well, I'll escort you..."

"Please." Jennifer put her hand on my arm and squeezed gently, "It's dark and quiet and alone over there." She looked around and then back into my eyes, "Do you mind if I sleep over here for tonight?"

I shrugged, "Sure. I'll take the--" I said, and tried to stand, only to be stopped by her tightening grip.

"I meant with you."

"I... huh?"

"Just, just be with me. Please. I... I need someone to hold me." Jennifer pleaded.

I paused, and thought about the consequences of my possible actions. I understood that she had been dealt a blow from another guy who skipped out on her, and was seeking the warmth of human contact from a trusted friend, who happened to be male, i.e. me, and not that I didn't want to help her, I did, buutt... "I dunno, I snore a lot, and I'm a guy. Shouldn't you be worried that I'm going mistake you for one of my paramours and, um, do stuff to you?"

Jennifer shook her head softly, "No."

"No!? You said yourself you don't know me. I watch kinky porn, I could snap and m... mm...mmmo..." I had trouble saying it out loud, and I had to lean close and hiss, "molest you." I paused to breathe, before trying to explain, "Look, I'm a guy, and you're... a very attractive young woman... who's a friend... who's been through a lot... sleeping in my bed... with me... it's just... scandalous! Get it? "

"What kind of guy do you think I deserve?" Jennifer asked suddenly.

I covered her hand and said warmly, "Smart, funny, well educated, kind, compassionate, flexible, understanding, and absolutely, completely passionately in love with you until the end of time."

"What about pretty? Good looks? Money?"

"'The sweetest words are bitter without love.' A man is not the sum of what jobs he holds, or the random chance of genetics that make him pretty, but whom he is. Even the ugliest of fruits can have the sweetest of juice."

Jennifer sniffed and crawled into my lap, hugging me tightly before whispering in my ear, "Thank you."

And so we kinda just lay there, together, holding each other while I'm trying to ruthlessly suppress the hormonal surge as my Pavolvian response woke up and tried to stir other parts of my body to action as it noticed a pretty girl in my arms, in my bed, at night. And I didn't think she wanted to have Mr. Happy prodding her during a simple platonic gesture of affection, or waking up to it either. At least I had my jeans on.

I really should have done something, like called someone -- let someone else better suited to comfort her, comfort her. But I didn't. I was easily physically strong enough to push her off and go for the phone in the kitchen, but maybe I was a sucker for a sob story from a pretty woman, and maybe I just wanted some human contact too. In any case, I found myself stroking her hair gently and cooing softly into her ear as she wept quietly on my shirt.

It was going to be a long night.