Epilogue
Larry Wheeler made things easier on his sister by moving to Boston, about two hundred miles away; no matter what he had pledged, he knew he'd have a very difficult time keeping his hands off her sleek and beautiful body if she were nearby. In the next three years, he only saw Amy a few times, at crowded family functions where there was no chance of more than a moment alone, and at the party their parents held after her twins were born.
But how tantalizing, how exquisite those moments were, their fingers entwined, their voices low, the kiss he stole -- and Amy's shy smile when he did it.
"A promise is a promise, Larry," she reminded him.
"I know. But I can always dream. Don't you ever miss--"
Amy flattened her fingers on his mouth and said, "We can't even talk about it."
Larry tried to find another woman, told himself he was in love, but the truth was that not a day went by that he didn't think of the passion he and his younger sister had shared, their biting kisses, her heaving breasts, those intense, unforgettable orgasms.
So Larry plunged himself into his work, which now included international bank loan deals that often took him out of the country. Larry sent breezy, bland postcards to Amy from Zurich, Milan, and London; she never wrote back.
Then, on one cold, rainy November night, Larry heard three small knocks on his apartment door. Opening it, he was surprised to see his shivering, weeping sister. She wore a slick black raincoat, underneath which was a red cotton blouse and dark blue skirt. But what Larry noticed most was the luggage.
For a moment he held her, let her tears flow and gently kissed her forehead. Finally, she blew her nose and said, "I'll be all right now."
Larry nodded and went to the kitchen to brew some tea.
"Where are the twins?"
"With Mom and Dad."
Larry handed his sister a steaming cup and settled into his armchair.
"You were right about Chuck," Amy said; Larry now noticed that the wedding and engagement rings were gone. "After the honeymoon, he asked me to pay his old loans, and I did. Then he wanted me to finance an expansion of the store, and I did. Better office space, he said, 'it looks better for the vendors if I don't have just a desk in the corner of the basement.' So he put in a little kitchenette, some plants, some nice pictures on the wall, and a sofa. That's where I found him the other day, humping one of the cashiers."
"Oh, Amy, I'm sorry."
"He told me it was nothing serious, he just likes some young pussy every now and then. Young pussy! Jesus Christ! What does that make me? Carol Channing? I'm only twenty-five!"
Amy began to cry again. Larry held her close.
When the storm passed, she looked into her older brother's eyes and said, "You still love me, don't you?"
"You know I do."
Larry stroked her hair, and, at last, gave her the long, lingering kiss for which she had come to him. Amy kissed him back, and stared into his eyes for the longest moment of his life. At last she said, "Let's go to bed."
Not sure what to feel, Larry put his arm around his sister's waist and led her to his bedroom. She was trembling, and Larry felt his stomach tighten. He'd never been tense with Amy before; for the first time in their strange, forbidden affair, he had no idea what was about to happen.
The three-year separation had made quite a difference. Before, their lovemaking had a dangerous, playful quality. There was a time limit, they had agreed the affair would come to an end one day, and it had. Larry had never thought he would make love to Amy again, and in a way he was right. This was a different Amy; a wounded bird, in need of tender care.
There was a distance between them, and Larry could sense his sister's uncertainty.
"It's all right, honey," he said. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm a little nervous, too."
