"Izzy's Library Incest"
by J.D. Savanyu
A cool foggy Halloween night in the trendiest part of Richmond, with lots of kids trick-or-treating, pumpkin smashing and TP'ing. But of course I'm not one of them. I'm a twenty-something redhead English major, sitting in room 303 of Hibbs Hall, gazing across a big rectangular conference table at my identical redhead twin sister Kathy. Professor De Haven's novel writing class is discussing the fifth chapter of her dystopian cyberpunk manuscript about a bunch of human hookers in 2099, fighting against robotic whores who recently became self-aware and violently corrupt.
I can picture someone like Kate Beckinsale playing the lead role in a movie adaptation. Decked out in black form-fitting latex, bullet-timing her way through a high-tech labyrinth and blasting a bunch of busty bots. Kathy's idea is much more Hollywood-friendly than my kinky indie manuscript about a neurotic biker dude who cheats on his milf cowgirl stripper wife with a crazier cowgirl who's young enough to be his daughter.
"So, what do you guys think about Charity's treachery in this chapter?" asks Professor De Haven.
"Wow, I totally didn't see that coming," replies Sarah Sprouse, a cliche pseudo-goth English major. "I was sure she'd stay loyal to the Real Hooker Resistance, and never betray them for 'thirty pieces of silver' from that creepy Big Tech mogul."
"Yeah, that was a really good plot twist," I reply eagerly, tossing my flaming copper bangs and shooting my sexy doppelganger a devious grin. "And she had the gall to do that right after having sex with the leader of the resistance, and saying she was 'truly, madly, deeply' in love with her!"
Kathy looks
exactly
like me, with the same red hair, pale milky freckled skin, and big emerald eyes. The same perky c-cup tits, flat toned belly, and wide smoothly curved thighs. I still can't believe what happened last night, after Professor Harrison didn't show up for his Edgar Allan Poe seminar in this very same room. I returned two hours early to the apartment I share with my sister, and found her fucking my boyfriend Jake
in bondage
!
I watched quietly through the barely-open door as she whipped his big dick over and over, with his arms and legs tied to a steel platform. Then she fucked the shit out of him and took a huge cumshot from face to pussy. Getting me so wet under my red tartan skirt. That was crazy enough, but what happened after I kicked Jake out of our apartment was beyond belief. My heated argument with Kathy quickly spiraled into wild kinky incest action; starting a nice taboo lesbian rebound fling.
"I hate Savage Garden," Kathy grunts playfully. "They're the second most overrated band of the 90's, after The Spice Girls."
"Our parents really loved them," I giggle. "They were just as weird as their twin daughters are now."
My sister spreads her legs under the table, and wags them open and shut in my direction, clearly expressing her mutual forbidden lust. I can't wait to get her naked again in our rustic nineteenth-century loft on Harvie Street, and "play rough" for at least an hour (in lieu of going to an actual Halloween party, and socializing with real people instead of our usual fake book characters.)
"Your parents thought sex robots were pure science fiction... but now you can buy one on Amazon for two thousand bucks," Professor De Haven muses. "They're still primitive and clunky, like a porn version of that 1920's
Metropolis
robot
.
Or C-3PO, if you're not a silent movie buff."
"Kathy's dystopian future is getting closer and closer. It'll be here a lot sooner than 2099," Lars Freeman muses.
"More like 20
39
," Virginia Schmitz boldly predicts, with a cute British accent.
"It'll be just like Woody Allen's
Sleeper
... but not nearly as funny," Montana Jones adds wryly.
The novel writing class ends twenty minutes later. We hustle down two flights of stairs and out to a cool misty All Hallow's Eve in the heart of VCU, in the middle of a big crazy liberal city that was once the capital of the Confederacy. Lots of students are hanging out and skateboarding around the giant brick compass, discussing their wild party plans while wearing tacky store-bought costumes. Sexy zombies? Ewww.
"Trick or treat, sis!" Kathy beams.
"We were always too sophisticated for that shit," I grunt. "They're starting the Halloween season
waaay
too early now, with plastic tombstones and skeletons going up in front yards in fucking
September
. Everyone's sick and tired of it by now, except the craziest freaks who will probably put up their Christmas decorations
tomorrow
!"
"You're
waaay
too cynical, Izzy."
"Whatever. Let's go home and watch
Freddy vs. Jason
for the fiftieth time while stuffing our faces with popcorn. A little self-therapy to help me get over Jake." (After you fucking
stole
him from me,) I add with clear body language.
"In a little while, ginger. I need to do a little research at the library, and then we'll go party.
Hard
," she utters naughtily, emphasizing the incestuous double entendre by winking her big green left eye.
"Whatever," I mutter playfully. "I need to dive deeper into Raymond Carver, to make my novel more authentically trailer-trashy."
I follow her across the quad and into the Branch Cabell library, an imposing brutalist 1970's edifice. Halloween fell on a Friday this year, so we're literally the only people here.
"Damn. This place is emptier than a shopping mall in Somalia," Kathy giggles.
"Everyone is out getting drunk and stoned shitless, dressed like Count Dracula and Slutty Sailor Moon."
"They'll have some nasty undead hangovers tomorrow, and we'll have the gym all to ourselves."
We take an elevator up to the fourth floor, with all the weird obscure books we love. I pick out a collection of critical essays about Carver's
What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
and
Ultramarine
. The VCU library has the best collection of comic books and graphic novels in the world, thanks to Tom De Haven's "geek culture" obsession. Kathy makes a bee-line toward that department and grabs a bunch of cyberpunk epics.
Hard Boiled, Tokyo Ghost, 2020 Visions, and Transmetropolitan
.
We sit down at a table next to the dusty microfiche machines, flipping through pages and taking notes in eerie silence. I'm half-expecting a masked homicidal lunatic to creep out of the shadowy shelves (after watching too many stupid slasher flicks with Kathy, to cleanse our palate after reading all those boring depressing English major books.) My mind drifts toward a kinky sex scene in the third chapter of my manuscript. Jerry the biker ties up Lucy the cowgirl against an old wooden fence in her horse pasture, thirty miles west of Cheyenne, Wyoming. He whips her like a wild mustang, far from his unsuspecting stripper wife in their pathetic little trailer home. My debut novel is an awkward attempt at existential rural BDSM, inspired by
Fargo, Killer Joe
and
Nymphomaniac, Volume 1 & 2
. The polar opposite of my sister's trippy sci-fi boobs-and-blood schlockfest, like a cross between
John Wick
and
Battle Angel Alita
/
Ghost in the Shell
/ whatever.
My eyes drift upward, admiring Kathy's beautiful pale freckled face and big perky tits. It's like looking in a mirror. She has a much more flirty personality than me, so guys literally trip over each other for a chance to fuck her. Hopefully they'll never find out that
I
fucked her, exactly twenty-four hours ago. My pussy buzzes with arousal just thinking about the way I whipped her naked breasts and vagina; still splattered with Jake's cum. I punished her viciously for stealing my boyfriend, and then I ordered her to fuck me hard with a foot-long strap-on dildo. I can't wait to get another good plastic pussypounding from that bombshell ginger.
Her green eyes drift up to my green eyes, and she grins naughtily. Ten seconds later, I feel something warm touching my leg. I soon realize it's my sister's bare foot. I giggle incredulously as she slowly glides that little piggie upward, underneath my cute matching tartan skirt. When her big toe hits my pussy, I drop that Carver book on the table and moan softly with perverted arousal. Kathy works my clit through my pink panties with her purple-painted toenails, sinking my mind into dirty porn mode in a prestigious college library.
This reminds me of the blowjob/spanking scene in
Debbie Does Dallas
. I first saw that "classic" skin flick when I was 18, after raiding my parent's secret DVD porn stash behind their nightstand. I've always fantasized about getting kinky in the cavernous depths of a college library. Just like Debbie the cheerleader, deep in the heart of Texas. No better time than now to "Make it Real," according to VCU's annoying slogan.
"Hey Kathy, I want to show you something on the other end of this floor."
"Really?
What
?" she replies seductively, still giving my lady bits a great pedi massage.
"Something really...
interesting
. Come on, you naughty fucking redhead."
I take her by the hand and lead her through a maze of tall metal shelves, buzzing intensely between my legs. We go from PA 2001 to PM 8995 in the Library of Congress classification system. We soon reach the end of the line; a secluded nook in the northeast corner full of dusty old books about "artificial languages." I've never seen anyone here, even during the busiest times around final exams.
"
Esperanto
?" Kathy chortles. "A fake language nobody ever gave a shit about?"
"Shut the fuck up, bitch," I grunt, getting back into my dominatrix character from last night. I grab her pale slender arms and shove her big tits against a bunch of hardcovers. "You're under arrest."
"On what charge, ginger?"
"Public incest,
ginger
. Welcome to cyberpunk 'utopia,' a lot earlier than you predicted. I'm your judge, jury,
and
executioner."
"Yes sir, Judge Dredd," she giggles.
"Your sentence is
torture
."
I reach into my purse, pull out a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs, and bind her hands together behind her back, right next to
Co‐Occurrence, Extension, and Social Salience: The Emergence of Indexicality in an Artificial Language
.
"My library books are
way
overdue. You better
punish
me, Officer Bookman."
"Shut the fuck up, you smart-ass cunt!"
