I was awake.
It was around seven in the morning, and I had been burning my vision on the same spot of ceiling for a good hour now.
The sun shot through the net curtains, which hung in front of the balcony doors. I couldn't tell whether the rays of light were warm or cold, but I wouldn't budge now- COULDN'T, in fact. I was flat on my back, and as I glared up I concentrated on my breathing. My bare chest moving up… down… up… down… so hypnotic. The rest of me was bare under the thick duvet, loosely tossed over us before we went to sleep.
Her head was on the flat of my collar on the right. Her frame, so similar to mine, spooned my body, and the rustle of fabric came as she moved in her sleep.
We had hooked up the previous night. We'd done it before (and doubtless we'd do it again, sooner or later); drunk, lonely or just for the hell of it- we would find each other and sink our bodies into a steaming night of passion.
Roaming hands, breathy gasps and burning tongues found their way into the actions of the night… the air of the room. That is, if it was a room. Sometimes it was a tour bus, other times it was a bathroom, once it had even been a stage- but we didn't like to take chances like that. The passion we felt every time was explosive, only to be followed the next morning by regret. Embarrassment. Multiple thoughts of cleaning up our acts as our naked bodies navigated to clothes. Shower. Door. Room.
Sometimes I could hear Sara crying if the walls were thin. I'd feel worse than I had done- to know I'd put my sister in a situation where she hated herself. But it wasn't just me, half the time she initiated it- I was 50% innocent.
And because we couldn't tell anyone, because it HAD to be kept a secret for fear being shunned and discriminated, there was nothing and no one stopping these sick outbursts of heat.
I thought about what the next time would be like and felt my throat tighten. I was feeling bad about it already. My sister's warm breath on my skin, her face, even now decorated with a tiny smile. If only we could do what we did with meaning- love and not just lust behind either of our actions.
Skin brushed skin as Sara moved, awakening.
I"Here we go…"/I I thought sadly, looking down to see my sister's eyes. Sad, tired, remorseful, longing, loving, hating, NEEDING… but most of all disgusted eyes- looking right at me.
And as much as I hated to- I dealt the exact same look.