Jinx

Notes [Last revised October 13, 2015]:

- All characters are the product of the authors' imaginations.

- All characters engaging in sexual activity are over 18.

- This story has a long lead up.

- Special thanks to Ciguardian for helping us make this better by actually editing this story.

As with nearly all childhood games many start innocently, but often take on a different tone as childhood ends and adolescence begins. My brother and I had played variations of this particular game since we were five or six years old. We are fraternal twins and often think along the same lines or at least arrive at the same point in unison. We never developed twin-speak, but our

minds

seemed to

mirror

one another, and so the game came about pretty naturally. He'd open his mouth to make some silly utterance, and I'd know instantly what he was going to say and match him word for word. Then I'd rush to beat him to saying the key word,

jinx

and, of course, he would do the same to me. Though we'd never kept any sort of running score in this game, we were usually about even, although it seemed to me that I was edging ahead of him as the years went by. I was never really sure if I was just a little faster to process things or if he'd delay saying

jinx

to let me win, on occasion.

In our youth, the penalty was generally silence, although that varied over time, as well. Sometimes there would be a pinch, love tap, or a finger flick for speaking while jinxed. The traditional method for removing the jinx was saying the person's name. As we got older, new methods of enticing the removal were introduced, which we referred to as ransoms. The ransoms were generally something simple like pennies, candy or assumption of chores. The ransoms became progressively elaborate and often involved favors. There were also double and triple jinxes, which incurred steeper punishments and higher ransoms.

Play at this particular game decreased, somewhat, as we entered our teens. There were several reasons, really, but the main one was that some of our 'punishments' had escalated to a point that touched on taboo. Our parents finally put the brakes on it when they discovered that 'titty-twisters' had been introduced. That's about the same time our younger brother, Jason, was born. Looking back, now, I think that he must have been a surprise baby. Andy and I were already fourteen, at the time, and attending high school when Jason arrived. Eventually we completely stopped playing the game as we finished high school and went off to college. Andy got a full scholarship at an excellent local college, while I had gotten a full ride at one of the few public Ivy League schools.

Jason grew quickly. By the time Andy and I were off to college, he was starting to play various kids games. The fact that Andy was attending college so close to home meant he got to see Jason more than I did, in general. Andy doted on Jason, as big brothers with that large an age difference often do. Our parents frequently invited Andy over for dinner. They said it was so he would eat better, but I was pretty sure it was to keep Andy and Jason close. I couldn't blame them; Andy was a great role model. In any case, I guess Andy had resumed playing the game with Jason, at some point, and evidently Jason had gotten pretty good at it by age six.

I hadn't seen Andy much since our choice of colleges had sent us in different directions. I missed him terribly, the first year. Over time the separation anxiety diminished, but there was definitely a hole in my psyche where my womb-mate should have been. Thus, I was absolutely overjoyed when spring break of our junior year of college was nearly upon us, and our parents proposed a trip to Florida. Andy and I agreed that a trip with our family would be fun. It coincided with our upcoming twenty-first birthday, too. In addition to being able to celebrate together; I was really looking forward to reestablishing our twin-ship.

In the days leading up to the trip, I decided I'd drive my Mini down since it'd be cheaper than flying. I'd discussed it with Andy and we'd agreed to split gas for the rest of the trip. We both had been kind of dreading an overcrowded ride in the family minivan. The decision to drive together meant we could talk and potentially get away if we wanted. It would also allow Jason to alternate vehicles during the trip. The result would be that Mom and Dad, who were in their late forties, could have a break too.

I started out early in the morning, the day before the Florida trip, since my drive home would take between six and seven hours. The trip was fairly uneventful, and I made it most of the way on a single tank of gas, stopping once to refill the tank and empty my bladder. For most of the drive, I was lost in thought, recalling all the things that Andy and I used to do. We'd stuck together, a lot, while we were growing up. We had to. We had a lot in common, including our innate shyness, and that problem had probably made our being each other's best friend much more important. The closer I got to home, the more I realized how much I was looking forward to spending time with my twin.

Finally, I neared the end of the long trip home, pulling over into the berm lane of the freeway exit ramp to text Andy and alert him that I was a few minutes away. By the time I reached the parking lot in front of his dorm, he was outside and already taking long strides to reach the Mini. As I watched him lope across the wide lawn, his duffel bag slung across his back, I found that I was having difficulty believing how much he had changed.

"Wow, he's turned out nicely,"

I thought, and I found myself staring at him as he drew closer to my car.

People we met often found it hard to believe we were related at all. However, we could both see features in each other that were characteristic of our Mom and Dad. We never gave a second thought to jokes about hospital mix-ups, infidelity, or different dads. Our noses, the shape of our faces and eye sockets were nearly clones of our mother. We both had our father's feet, slender and long with a much longer second toe.

Standing at 6'1", Andy was a good five inches taller than me. Also, his hair and complexion were completely opposite from mine. He had dark hair, which he wore somewhat long and was always hiding behind. It was maddening, to me, how it often covered his steely-blue eyes. His ever-tan face wasn't just smooth; it was nearly hairless. There was some Native American blood in our family - our father was one-quarter Arapaho - and Andy was expressing some of those genes. He was tall and broad shouldered, with muscular arms and chest.

In contrast, I had the pale, fair skin and light blue eyes I'd inherited from Mom, and my Nordic blonde hair (also a gift from Mom's Scandinavian roots) fell to a point just below the bottom of my shoulder blades. My frame was trim enough, and fit, but my breasts were on the small side, and I'd always put the blame on them for my lack of success with male suitors. Female suitors (there'd been a few, not that it got them anywhere) often assumed that I was lesbian or - at least - bi. My real condition was simply self-imposed celibacy. In part, that was due to my innate shyness, but there were also a few 'rejection issues' from the time when my last significant boyfriend, Ken, had dumped me in favor of a ditzy blonde cheerleader with a pair of 36-D's. Since then, my little 32-A cups had made me feel even more self-conscious.

Andy opened the right rear door and slid his duffel bag onto the back seat. Then, opening the front passenger door, he slid his lanky frame into the seat and smiled at me.

"Hey Annie!" he smiled. "You're looking good! How've you been?"

"I was going to say the same thing, Andy. You look like you've been hitting the weights, or something."

"Yeah, a little. You look pretty fit, yourself."

"Yeah, I'm swimming some, although not as much as I'd like," I bemoaned my sloth.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get plenty of swimming in, on this trip," he laughed. I'm really looking forward to it, and to having a chance to celebrate our birthday together. I can't believe that we're going to finally be twenty-one, in just a few days!"

"Tell me about it!" I grinned back at him. "I'm looking forward to buying you your first legal beer, though!"

"I'm glad you qualified that with the word, 'legal'," he chuckled. "I've already had a few, courtesy of invitations to Frat-house parties. And, since you made the comment about 'first beer', and you'll probably order yourself one, at the same time, I guess I'll have to plan on ordering you your first legal mixed drink."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. "Well, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "When you called, I was already packed and waiting. I locked my room and came downstairs to wait for you. Let's head for home!"

He guided me out of the parking lot, and back out to the main road. From there, it was fifteen minutes to the freeway, and another forty-five to our home. We chatted a bit, as I drove, mostly about the classes we were each taking, and about our plans for this trip. I kept stealing sideways glances at him, from behind the cover of my Oakleys. I couldn't get over the sight of him, or the mysterious flutter that it caused in my insides, and I wondered a couple times if he'd caught me staring. I couldn't tell, though, because his eyes were hidden behind his pair of Ray-Ban Aviator shades.

I'd been away for awhile, and living in a huge college dorm had changed my perspective on things. As we drove slowly down our home street to the old single-story house, I couldn't believe how small it looked, now. There was a single bathroom, an eat-in kitchen, a family room, the master bedroom, and two other bedrooms - Andy's, and mine. The laundry facilities were out in the attached single-car garage. I suppose the place was big enough, now that there were only three people living there, but it had been pretty tight when Jason came along. He'd stayed in a crib in our parents' bedroom for over a year, but then got moved into Andy's room, and Andy's old bed got replaced by a set of bunk beds.

I pulled the Mini into the driveway, and shut off the engine. Mom, Dad, and Jason were out the front door and nearly to the car before I got my key out of the ignition. They did manage to let us get out of the car, and then it was a mob-scene of hugging and kissing, as Mom greeted each of us, and then Dad, and finally Jason, who basically attached himself to Andy at the hip. Andy grabbed his bag - Jason tried, but it was too long and heavy for him - and Dad grabbed mine, and we followed Mom back into the house.

Walking around inside, I found that my room was exactly as it had been when I left to head off to college. Andy's room, however, had been converted over for Jason, and the bunk beds were gone. My ears perked up as I heard Mom suggesting that Andy should use the cot that they'd placed in my room, since we'd doubtless be up well past Jason's bedtime. Andy and I agreed that we'd be fine with that arrangement, since we already knew that - according to Mom and Dad's vacation plans - we would be sharing a room at the beach. Money was still tight, for our parents, and they were probably stretching their budget to make this combination birthday and spring break trip even possible.

Shortly after we arrived, Mom had fried chicken, smashed potatoes, and steamed spinach ready for us. We all ate dinner in the kitchen, at the familiar round table, which just barely seated us all, since it had been guilt as a table for four. It hardly mattered, though; we were all excitedly talking about the trip.

Dad told us that it would take us about five or six hours - depending on stops, traffic, and unexpected road construction (not unusual, at this time of the year) - to reach our hotel. He told me that he'd also planned the route, and proceeded to go over it with me. I listened, basically to humor him, but I really didn't need to. Dad was a creature of habit, and always took freeway routes when he could. I knew where to pick up I-75 South, outside Atlanta and, from there, the rest of the drive would be fairly simple: I-75 South to I-10 East, to I-95 South. Once we hit I-95, all I needed was the street address for the hotel, and I could punch that into the little Garmin nav unit that the dealership had tossed in as a perk when I bought the Mini. Piece of cake.

That evening, while the three of us

'kids'

were watching television, was the first time Jason sprang a jinx on Andy that I'd seen. Andy had heard something funny in the program we were watching, and was getting ready to mock it. We think enough alike that the same comment occurred to me, and so I looked over at Andy, and could see him almost telegraphing his move. The surprising thing was that Andy had apparently been spending enough weekend time with Jason that his quirky sense of humor had rubbed off on the youngster. Jason caught Andy's move, as well, and he was the first one to call the jinx.

"You have learned well, Grasshopper," I intoned, smiling over at Jason. "What shall Andy's ransom be?"

"Well, we usually do candy," Jason said with a small pout. "But you messed it up, when you said his name, Andy! Now he doesn't have to pay!"

"Oh, my! It's been so long since I've played this game, that I forgot the rules" I said, covering my mouth with my hands as though I'd made a huge mistake. I looked over at Andy and winked. "What kind of candy do you want, Jason?"

"Andy and I usually use bulls eyes," Jason said.

"Tell you what, Jason," I offered. "Since I'm the one who messed it up, I'll pay Andy's ransom tomorrow. I have to fill my gas tank before we get out on the highway, and I'll pick up a bag of bulls eyes, then."

"That works, for me!" Jason nodded. His eyes lit up for a moment, and then he turned his attention back to the television.

"Thanks, Sis," Andy whispered to me. "I forgot to tell you. He's pretty good, so you'd better watch out."

"I'm in trouble, then," I whispered back. "I haven't played in forever."

"You used to beat me pretty handily," Andy winked.

"That was when we played constantly. I'm out of practice!"

Shortly after the show ended, our parents appeared at the large entryway to the family room. They'd finished their preparations for the trip, and thought it was time for Jason to go to bed. Jason really wanted to stay up and hang out with his big brother, but Dad was firm.

"You'll have plenty of time to talk with Andy, tomorrow," Dad told him. "You can ride with him and Annie, for the first leg of the trip."

"Cool!" Jason chirped. Then, stopping to give Andy and me goodnight hugs, he trundled off to bed. Mom and Dad followed, a short time later.

Andy and I stayed up for about another hour, but then decided to call it a night, too. I'd gotten up extra early so that Andy and I could be home in time for dinner, and the first leg of the trip - by myself - had been boring enough to leave me tired. For his part, Andy had apparently not gotten a lot of sleep, the night before, either. He'd arranged to leave campus a day early, and had stayed up late to finish off a paper that was due for one of his classes, and submit it over the campus computer network. Thus, we were both yawning, despite being excited for the morning and the beginning of the trip.

We crept quietly back to my room, nearly tripping over the pile of the sleeping bag and old cot they'd put in there for him to use. The stuff still needed to be set up, so we glanced at each other, sighed, and went to work. The cot was one of those old wood-and-canvas contraptions that looked like it'd been bought at an army surplus store. As we unfolded the thing, I could see that the wooden parts were dark with age, and the canvas smelled musty and had a number of gross-looking, unidentified stains on it, discoloring the cloth. I noted Dad's name - and a year - the magic-marker lettering faded but still legible, on one of the long sections of wood, and did a bit of quick mental math. Dad must have used this cot for Boy Scout summer camps, and then when he was a teen-aged park ranger in training.

We finally got it unfolded and began to set it up, but I began to worry about the wisdom of Andy trying to sleep in it. I glanced over at my big full-sized bed, but was afraid to suggest the alternative to Andy, and turned my attention back to the task of getting the rickety old thing assembled. Together, we got the legs into position, but I heard a strange groaning sound as we put the first end piece into place. It was then that I noticed the fraying of some of the canvas pockets that the long pieces of wood fit through.

"Andy, this thing is raggedy. You might even fall through it, in the middle of the night. The canvas looks dry-rotted, in a couple spots."

"It'll be okay Annie," he said, as he pressed onward. He was working to attach the last end piece that stretched the fabric tight. It was being a little difficult, but he finally got the tenon into its matching mortise. However, as he accomplished the insertion, the canvas gave a light ripping noise. The rip was slight, but it was clear that the mottled green canvas would continue to rip if he put any weight onto it.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Andy," I told him.

"Well, it's the cot or the floor," he shrugged. "I don't think we have an air mattress."

"We can just share my double bed," I offered, noting the slight widening of his eyes at the suggestion.

"Won't you feel weird about that?" he asked.

"Nah," I shook my head and waved off his concern.

"You sure?" he persisted.

"We had to share a bed whenever we went to Grandma's house for a weekend," I reminded him. "So it's not like we haven't done this, before. Plus, I have no idea what Dad booked, for our lodgings at the beach. We might be sharing a bed, again." Ouch! Had I sounded just a touch hopeful, there?

"Well, let me try something, first," Andy smiled.

Picking up his duffel bag, he placed it gently in the center of the canvas. The moment its full weight rested on the cloth, there was a horrendous ripping sound, and the bag dropped through a huge rent and onto the floor.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Andy sighed. I could see the wry grin on his face, though, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. If Mom or Dad looked in, to wake us in the morning, the ripped canvas would provide a silent explanation for the sight of us sharing my bed.

"Okay, I'll go change in the bathroom, and you can change here," he said. Opening his bag, he pulled his sleep-shorts and his toilet kit from it and headed for the bathroom, closing my door behind him.

With Andy gone, it took me only a couple minutes to doff my clothes and slip into a lightweight nightgown. Then I sat on the edge of my bed, waiting for him. Long minutes ticked past, and I was beginning to wonder what was taking him so long when he finally rapped gently on the door.

"You can come in, Andy," I called quietly. "I'm decent."

"I'd say that's a matter of opinion," he chuckled, opening the door and slipping into my room.

I shot him a mocking glance, sticking my tongue out at him for emphasis.

"Don't stick it out, unless you intend to use it," he quipped.

"What?" I asked.

"Just something I heard, at college," he smirked.

"Careful," I wagged a cautioning finger. "It's not too late for me to suggest you roll out that sleeping bag on the floor!"

Mentally chuckling at our good-natured banter - and telling myself I'd have to remember that 'Don't stick it out' line, for when I got back to campus - I headed down the short stretch of hallway to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I spent a few minutes washing off the light makeup I'd put on that morning and then brushing my teeth. As I gazed into the mirror over the sink, visions of me using my tongue on a guy, or having him use his on me, sprang unwarranted into my head. I quickly tried to douse them, because the last thing I needed was to be aroused when I crawled between the sheets in a few minutes.