The sat on the bed cross legged; they were naked and facing each other. It was Friday night; their favorite night. Rachel made love to Jenna, with words. They weren't words of lovemaking but loving words that shared the day's events.
"Jen I saw the most beautiful skirt today with all shades of purple that would look great on you. I would have tried it and got it for you but I didn't want to come home late."
The apartment was warm but they liked sitting like this. Jenna gently caressed her younger sister's face. "I'm glad you're home sweetie."
They spoke of the day and enjoyed each others stories. As they wound down Rachel uncrossed her legs and moved closer encircling her sister with her long legs. Both breaths deepened. Jenna's eyes closed anticipating Rachel's touch. It was always electric to her; as if a fine wire carried it in her from between her breasts to the folds between her legs. Rachel stroked Jenna's back from the nape of her neck to her waist over and over, feeling the tension drain.
They had discovered each other when they were younger, close, in the same bed. Long before it became sexual, the velvet feel of each against the other, had comforted them. Rachel, who was younger by eleven months, had soothed her sister's nightmares that started when their father left the country to be with another woman. They were very young.
During high school and in years thereafter, both dated men and tasted the waters of experimentation. Jenna had a serious affair that she thought might lead to…? The 'man' wasn't ready to deal with the 'C' word. "Amazing" Rachel told her; "It might as well be fifty years ago. They still just come and go; that's what they're good at, coming then going."
It was about that time that Rachel made the first overtures with little kisses and lots of words. There were words about Jenna's beautiful translucent skin, words about being together always and words about love being love no matter which type of body parts were matching up.
Rachel was almost always the initiator who sparked her older sister. Jenna was shy but Rachel would stroke her hair and hold her hand in a restaurant or on the street. She didn't care who saw, who knew or what they thought. In her mid-twenties now, she'd seen enough judging eyes to stare back until the idiots looked away. In the last few years she thought perhaps there were more inquisitive eyes and even some smiling ones. Hallelujah.
They lived in Portland overlooking the Bay of Maine. They often walked the esplanade which sat on the hill above the water. Dogs play Frisbee, people on blankets in the warmer weather and a small steam train that goes back and forth along the shore.
One fine green day, they sat on a bench; elements of an idyllic painting, until they almost got arrested. Jenna kissed Rachel.
It happened so infrequently that Rachel s delight took the form of responsive kisses and the game of "when I get you home…". They alternately whispered of tongues and fingers and devouring mouths. They punctuated their talk with small kisses. A cop walks by and stares. Rachel, ever ready, stares back and won't let go of his eyes. He walks up and starts with, "public place blah blah…decent people blah blah…etc."
Rachel just stares in silence. He accelerates finally ending with "are you going to move along or…"?
Jenna said, "Fine" and stepped between them to break the stare. She'd seen this before with other people and it didn't always end well.
