"Well, I'm disgusting."

Woooooooo! I'm back! Sorry!

Stupid UK heatwave, stopping me from thinking hard and stalling me from writing Chapter 2. My pc and monitors heat my room up too much so I attempted to write on my phone...A lot harder than I'd like it to be, if I'm honest!

Stroke, stroke, flip turn…

I slammed my feet into the tiled side of the pool and pushed off for another length. Regardless of the shitty night I had, I wasn't going to break my morning routine of going for a swim in the apartment's basement with all of the gym equipment, the pool and various spa-type rooms.

Breathe, stroke, stroke…

Chris was zoning out in one of the hot tubs when I got down here, he didn't even notice me slip in there with him.

Breathe, stroke, stroke, flip turn…

I had chided him for the new wounds he had received in Kijuju, and he had apologised, but if anything I was just happy to see him alive. I was so damn worried, more than I can ever recall in my almost thirty years of being alive.

Stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke…

Speaking of nearly thirty, my 30th birthday is on a Thursday this year, in just under four months. I've managed to get that day and the Friday off work, and I'm going to drink and party for both of those days! I'm so looking forward to it!

I came to rest at one end of the pool, gently paddling my feet and I grabbed my bottle from the edge of the water, taking a good sip of my tropical flavoured Branch Chain Amino Acid drink. The mango and pineapple melded beautifully in my mouth, and I couldn't resist another little sip. I began to have this stuff after the Harvardville Airport Incident four years ago; I was so fed up of being caught up in the absolute heart of bioterrorism, so sick to death of being dragged down that I had begun to properly train my body, oh but not to the extent that Chris trained his body, jesus. He went HARD.

There was so much whey protein and creatine powder in the apartment that I'm sure it was permanently up my nostrils. He would eat a huge chicken and spinach omelette for breakfast every day, he would lift insane kilograms, he would beat the living shit out of punch bags. After the beating he got off Albert Wesker in Antarctica he wanted to be sure that he'd be ready for the next time. A lot of people think he used steroids but I know for sure he didn't, it was all his own hard work.

I had already learned some karate and self defence from Chris as a young pre-teen girl, but he ended up building on his own unique abilities and unique hand to hand combat style, of which he shared with me. I've lost count of the bruises we've given each other on the sparring mat in the gym, or that one time I caught him by surprise and took him down with a shoulder throw. Hell, I don't even know how I did it, but I fucking did! The look on his face was golden as he stared up at me! We just laughed at each other and he picked himself back up. He went to shake my hand and I took it, only for him to get revenge and put my ass where his own was merely seconds before. What he didn't anticipate is that I'd pull him down with me, and I used that moment to roll out of the way and pin him just as he was about to hit the floor. We had to stop sparring, not from the aches of our blows, but from the aches in our sides that the laughing caused.

I have him to be thankful for so much; the firearms, hand to hand skills and just his encouragement keeping me alive in those times of hell. Without all of that, I know I would've died very quickly in Raccoon City.

I decided that forty lengths was enough for today, and I climbed out of the pool. My legs felt heavy as I picked my towel from the bench and headed for the showers, but God I loved the burn that swimming gave me. So much so that once I was in the shower and I was sure no one else was around I began fondling. I squatted down with my legs wide, and began teasing myself, searching my mind for something to finger myself over. I ran two fingers over my clit, and I felt a shiver wash down my spine. I began to think of some of the porn I had watched in secret, but nothing was making me horny.

I inserted a finger into my vagina, and I had to muffle a moan behind my lips. Only I had ever visited here, I wasn't ashamed of being a virgin at twenty nine years old, or that no one had even come close to touching me here, though I know my brother seemed to think otherwise. I'm fairly certain he thought I was having gang bangs in his absence. Heh. Only a gang bang with me, myself and I. He had no idea I had a vibrator hidden in my closet. I began to feel my moist heat on my finger, my pussy tightening just a fraction, sending another jolt of pleasure through me.

I stopped just as I was about to slide another finger in. What exactly made me wet just now? The thought of my vibrator or the thought of… ew, fuck no. No no no no no no! No way did I just get wet from thinking about Chris. That's fucking disgusting! Good God no! It had to be the thought of my secret friend. There's no fucking way I could ever think of him like that!

I took a deep breath, cleared my mind and dug two fingers into myself, right up to the knuckles, and began rubbing my hand against my clit. I breathed a silent moan through my nose as I felt my body electrify and crackle and I tilted my head back, the water from the showers cascading down my face. I heard someone enter another cubicle, and I was forced to whimper in my mind as my knees began to buckle. I stopped, leant against the tiles and readjusted my fingers, now inserting a third. But the ecstasy was gone. I looked down at my slick self, disappointed, my fingers still deep inside of me; I could even just barely feel my cervix, a combination of my desperation for an orgasm and my impending period.

I thought again of my vibrator and felt nothing. Not even a twitch. This fucker in the next cubicle over had fucking clam jammed me against myself! I desperately searched for more things in my mind to make me horny and… ugh. I shouldn't have. That shouldn't have happened. Fuck.

I rammed my fingers harshly into myself, mad at the images that invaded my imagination, ashamed that it was working. I had to sit down before my legs completely gave in down onto the floor tiles, the water running past my ass to the drain, constant jolts tickling my insides from my uterus to my eyes, back down to my toes. I reached up with my other hand, patting around for the shower knob, turning it up more to create more noise, more water splashing against the walls and cubicle door. I barely wanted to hear my own sounds, let alone the person merely a couple of metres away hearing me.

My breathing quickened, my pussy tightening in all of its virgin glory, my fingers sticky with my own fluids, and I covered my mouth as I came, the orgasm ripped gorgeously through my body, my thighs quivering at the sensation. I thrust my fingers even after the release had subsided, but I was still angry with myself.

I stood up and grabbed my shampoo, but not without staring at my juices on the tips of my fingers. I slapped the tiles with my hand, my moisture leaving a streak. I choked back a cry. How could I? How dare I?! I had thought of the one thing, the one person I should have never thought of in the heat of the moment. Why did it help me?! I punched the same part of the tile, a sharp pain penetrating my wrist. For fuck's sake, Claire, get a goddamn grip on yourself! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU! How could I finger fuck myself to the thought of that?!

I cried. Oh boy did I cry. I had never felt so ashamed and furious with myself, ever. I should've just left it. I should've accepted the clam jam and just showered and gone home. How could I face him, knowing what I had done? He wasn't going to know, that's for damn sure, but.. Fuck… Jesus, Claire, what are you doing, girl?

I was thankful that Chris wasn't in sight when I stepped my sorry ass through the apartment door, and I made use of his absence by ripping my sheets out of the laundry basket and shoving them into the washing machine; I accidentally slammed the machine door open against the wall but, whatever. I was still so goddamn infuriated with my stupid horny thoughts. I dropped the liquid pods down to the bottom of the drum, and started the cycle. Not how to use pods but, fine.

I slid open the glass balcony door, and felt the cool Spring breeze caress my hair. I breathed in once and closed my eyes, trying so hard to think of ANYTHING but earlier. I heard a delicate flutter in front of me, and two little birds had perched on one of the metal chairs, both of them eyeing up the empty feeder hanging from the roof. I snatched up the metal tin of bird food from next to the door and topped their feeder up while they watched; this pair regularly visited, for whatever reason, and didn't seem to be scared of myself nor Chris. I looked over at them and smiled. I scooped a small amount of seed into my hand, sat crossed legged and held my hand out to them. They immediately hopped down and scurried their tiny legs over to me, flapping their wings to gain their balance on my fingers. Their fragile little bodies weighed nothing as they pecked at the bird seed, occasionally tilting their heads up at me, their little beady eyes full of curiosity. An exhaust popping down on the street startled them, and they flew up to the roof of the apartment building. Still I smiled, and I sighed as I tipped the seed in my hand onto the balcony table.

I needed to use the little girl's room, but I stopped short of the door. Huh. Yup. I recognise that moan. Chris wasn't exactly subtle, no matter how much he says he is. I knocked lightly on the door.

"Gimme a sec" was the voice on the other side of the door. I wasn't stupid. I could tell just by the tone of his words what he was up to.

"Oh, right. Er...I need to use the bathroom, but I can wait. Enjoy ''. I smirked weakly. I rolled my knuckles against the door and walked quickly, probably too quickly, to the coffee table, picking up the tv remote and flicking it on to the news. I didn't want to chance hearing Chris having a 'moment'. Normally I wouldn't give a shit. The thought of my actions downstairs peered around the dark doorframe in my mind, however I harshly slammed the door in its face, followed by a mental "fuck you" . I couldn't let Chris see me pull myself down, I didn't want him to suspect anything.

The percolator that I had turned on earlier had finished and I went to work making myself an americano, and Chris an Irish coffee. Our maternal grandmother was Irish, and Granny Niamh had a penchant for the beverage. Of course this love was passed to my mother, and ultimately to Chris. She passed away when I was very young so I only had extremely vague memories of her; all I remember of her is her flaming red air and her thick Irish accent that I could barely understand. I slammed some bread into the toaster and took out an avocado from the refrigerator.

While I waited for my toast I fetched my laptop, my notebooks and some files from the home office and spread them out on the dining table; Chris would probably want to use the office. Speaking of...I heard the toilet flush and I shuddered. I was nervous to even look at him. I only hoped that he had more decency about what he thought of as he tossed himself off. The toaster popped, and I mashed the avocado into the wheaty slice, almost a little too hard.

I heard the toilet lid slam down.

Keep it together, Claire!

Calm down!

I brought my toast and coffee through to the table, and began fumbling my laptop's charge cable. I heard the bathroom door open, but I pretended I didn't know he was there. I grabbed my coffee and began to drink it. Shit. Too hot. Chris was practically standing in my line of sight, and I could no longer avoid him. I faked an acknowledgment to him, and winked at him.

"Have fun in there? Get the result you wanted? I made you your usual Irish coffee by the way, should still be hot. I thought as well that you might want to use the home office, so I set up camp here, I'm working from home today". I barrelled my words out as casually as I could, and I was surprised that he didn't react with how quickly I made for the bathroom door.

"No worries, thanks," Chris replied, "I'm not working today at least, but I'll check my emails."

I nodded at his words, still trying to get out of the exchange, but, of course, he had more to say.

"Oh. I forgot to say Jill's alive." Chris explained. I stopped dead in the doorway and spun to look at him. I knew how much that would mean to him; he was devastated when she threw herself and Wesker out of that window to save him.

"No way! That's...that's great news!" Yes, I thought, tell me more to take my mind off how disgusting I am.

"Yeah, amazing news!" he beamed, "Now go for a pee or a shit or whatever it is you do to stink the place out, before you mess everywhere!"

I sighed, but not enough for Chris to register it. I straightened myself up and lightly pressed my fingertips to the doorframe.

"Oh please, my shits smell of raspberries and vanilla, and you know that!" I stuck my tongue out at him and slammed the bathroom door, just subtly enough that Chris wouldn't guess anything was wrong.

Oh God, it was hard to look at him. He's so oblivious. I had never, EVER, been so fucking vile with my masturbation. Could I manage a round two without that thought? Could I redeem myself? Maybe I could...I'll go for a pee after…I shouldn't take too long...

Night had fallen, yet the air was still sweetly warm as it flowed in from the balcony. Chris had succeeded in claiming his guitar pick back off me, but now we found ourselves in one of our delicate brother-sister embraces as he loosened the headlock he held me in. I stroked his arm with my thumbs, and despite that ridiculous amount of alcohol he didn't think I saw him consume today I could smell his own musk. I missed that smell. I missed his big bro bear hugs. I missed HIM. He pressed his head into the side of mine, but soon turned away. I probably stunk of wine too much for him to deal with. Heh. I guess I was guilty of drinking too much too. I kissed his tanned skin.

"Love you, big bro." I whispered. He didn't respond. He always responded to that. Why didn't he? I shifted my eyes to the direction of his face, and I could make out that he was staring blankly at the wall. I felt his arms pull me in tighter. Was...was he ok? Chris? I heard him swallow.

"Love you too, little sis." He uttered. His whole body had stiffened up. I wanted to get out of his arms, but I was concerned for him. I twisted myself around to look at him, still he stared into nothing.

"Chris?" I asked. His eyes quickly shifted to mine and he smiled.

"Drank way too much, sis, sorry." He laughed. I didn't join him. He was still tense as he held me. I kissed him on his stubbled cheek and guided him to his room, his weight burning at my shoulder as I pushed his door open.

"Just sleep it off, bro, you'll feel better tomorrow." I sat with him on his bed, and he hugged me again. Flashes of my nightmare spotted about in my mind, and I accidentally blew a snort out of my nose at the thought.

"I'm sorry, Claire, I'll try to watch how much I drink next time. It's been a while, is all." He spoke into my hairline. I think he thought I was crying. I counted mentally how many drinks I THOUGHT he had today; four Irish coffees, with increasing amounts of whiskey in them, two neat whiskeys and five vodka and cokes. I suspected he had drank more without me noticing.

"Just go to sleep, Chris, I'll see you in the morning." I softly said, and I left him without looking back.

I clicked the balcony door closed and locked it, denying the Spring air entry. I busied myself with cleaning up the glasses we had both left; I'll turn the dishwasher on in the morning. My own head swam in the intoxication of that bottle of red wine I had managed to get through. I was just as bad as my brother. I balanced myself against the kitchen counter and absent-mindedly ran my hand past my shorts, thumbing the elastic.

I thought of…but I shouldn't have thought of...

I was drunk.

Maybe I'll play with myself again. I could blame the alcohol for whatever sinful things I pleasured myself to. Maybe I won't remember it tomorrow.

I buried my hand into my shorts, my panties. Right there in the dark kitchen, the moonlight spilling in between the blinds. My fingertips found my entrance.

No.

I ensured I would forget tomorrow what I was about to do today, and finished off Chris' bottle of whiskey. It burned at my throat, but I continued to gulp it down, and I gagged. I paused. Just one more big gulp and the bottle was done.

My own room would be better. I'll break out the vibrator if I have to.

The song for this chapter is She Bop by Cyndi Lauper.

I...er...I tried to look up songs about masturbation, and completely forgot this song existed! I wrote more after listening to the song just tonight than I have all damn week! Thank you Ms Lauper!

So, Claire? Do we need to talk, my girl? What's snapped in your mind?