This is my first stab at writing an erotic story so any feedback is much appreciated.
Emma was waiting for me as I entered the kitchen, drying my hands from the garage sink.
"And what have you been doing?"
"Just going over the car, tidying her up."
"Maybe if you paid as much attention to the girls as you do to that car you'd have a serious girlfriend."
"Huh, maybe. I was going to say that the car was a lot less trouble, but after last night..." I shook my head.
"Well you look a lot better this morning and I see your indefatigably sense of humour has returned, sweetie."
Emma blushed at my term of endearment, her vivacious eyes temporarily down-turned as she inspected her pretty nails, shaded baby pink and laid flat on the kitchen surface. She swivelled in her bar stool seat as I moved over to the kettle, conscious of the fact she was about to broach the events of last night.
"How's the car?"
"Oh, should be fine, Johnny pulled it out of the ditch for me with the JCB and a chain. She's pretty dirty but otherwise undamaged. You remember the crash?"
"Not really, I mean I do but last night is just hazy, I don't really remember anything about it, just you carrying me."
"Yeah, think I just about put my bloody back out." I placed both hands in the small of my back and flexed my spine, popping a couple of vertebra. My smirk was met by an unimpressed; thousand yard stare.
"Cup of tea?"
"Eurgh, yes please, I feel horrible this morning, my heads pounding." Emma leant back in her chair and began running her fingers through the tumultuous discord of her hair, its dirty blonde waves snagging them. She uncrossed her legs, causing her dressing gown to fall open revealing the small night shorts she was wearing, complete with pink bunnies nibbling around her thighs.
"What?" she inquired throwing me a coy look.
"Nothing, you want sugar?" Not cool. If your going to check out your sister, first rule of school is don't get caught doing it; I turned back to making tea, reflecting on the unintentional double entendre of my words.
"Johnny was asking after you again this morning; poor lad, always lacked a bit of sense."
"Just because you wish he fancied you!"
"Girl, I'll have you know I could turn him any time I felt like it, just casually slip into conversation something about how awesome I think the new range of John Deere's are, express my admiration for the girth of the 8 series' hydraulic ram and he would be putty in my hands."
"Very funny, but don't make me laugh, my stomach hurts nearly as bad as my head."
I took over Emma's cup of tea and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.
"It'll soon feel better little one. Your body just has to flush out all of the rubbish. The alcohol and God knows what else that little punk gave to you."
"Yeah. I'm just lucky I was with Cindy; she gave me that spike detector strip. If I'd drunk all of it..." Emma trailed off; leaving unsaid the horrific violation she had narrowly escaped.
I couldn't meet her gaze. I stood unable to offer comfort to my baby sister; my brotherly instincts undermined by the awkwardness I had felt around her since she had, to my mind, become a sexual being. A consoling brotherly hug should have been the most natural thing in the world for me to give to her, but I stood considering the irony of last nights incidents; I had rescued her from the would be date-rapist at that house party, but had then come horribly close to harming her myself, stupidly ploughing my car into a ditch while avoiding a deer; a mere 200m from our house. I thanked God Emma was still in one piece after the incidents of the last 12 hours. Mum and Dad had left me in charge, and even though Emma was eighteen, I knew her well being was my responsibility.
"Your safe now" Was all I could think of to reassure her with, not trusting myself with physical support.
"Maybe I could pop into town, rent out some DVD's for you to watch today, would you like that?" Emma frowned,
"No, it's alright; I'd prefer it if you'd stay in the house, with me, in case I'm, you know, ill or something." I nodded, pleased, despite her uncharacteristic reluctance to be left alone.
"Okay. Want any breakfast?" Emma shook her head.
"I'm going to have a shower, will you stick around? I nodded my head,
"Sure I've got no plans."
"K, no more fooling around with that car though, or Johnny." Emma cocked an eyebrow in mock reproach. I returned her rebuke with a face of indignant incredulity, to which she spun on her heel and trooped up the stairs, my eyes roving over every inch of the dressing gown fabric that clung to her petite behind.
I was watching TV when Emma eventually made her reappearance towards lunchtime, she looked better for the wash and had put on some loose tracksuit bottoms and an old St Etienne shirt, a relic from a family holiday to the RhΓ΄ne-Alpes region of France, that looked several sizes too small. She curled up, cat-like, on the sofa next to me. She was silent for a few moments.