Maelstrom

"Can we talk?"

Meg looked up from her textbook and frowned with irritation. "Can't it wait? I need to get this report finished before tomorrow."

"No, it can't wait – it's about your brother."

Sylvie saw the wary look on Meg's face and she wondered how long it would take for her daughter to find a way to forgive her. It had been three weeks now and they were barely talking. The strain was terrible and if it wasn't for her budding relationship with Zach, Sylvie would have been in the depths of despair.

"What about him." Her daughter turned away, making it quite clear she wanted Sylvie to leave.

"He's being forced to leave his flat and since he has nowhere to live temporarily, I've asked him to come and stay with us for a while – just until he gets sorted."

"What? How could you do that without asking me! I fucking live here too!"

"Don't swear at me, Meg, I know it's your house too. I

have

tried to talk to you, but you've been avoiding me as you know very well." She raked her hair distractedly and wished for a magic wand to make everything right. "It'll give you two a chance to get to know each other a little. Please just give him a chance – for me?"

Meg said nothing. She appeared to be thinking about what Sylvie had said. Eventually she spoke. "Okay, whatever. I don't suppose it matters what I think anyway – you'll do what you want."

For a moment she looked like a lost, scared little girl and Sylvie stepped forward, instinctively wanting to hold her, to make it all right. But Meg turned away again, her expression closed once more, and Sylvie stopped in mid air, her arms outstretched impotently. She drew back awkwardly and bit her lip.

"Okay, I'll tell Zach." Sylvie reluctantly left the room. All she could do now was hope that Meg came around to the idea of Zach. The last thing she wanted was to lose her second child when she had only just regained her first.

* * *

Zach shoved the last of his belongings in a rucksack and surveyed the small room. He was almost sorry to leave. It had begun to feel like home in the few months he had spent in this town and despite the peeling paintwork and the hideous carpet, at least it was his own space. That luxury had been pretty elusive while he had been growing up.

He hadn't seen Meg since that fateful night. Not a word. It had taken every ounce of his self-restraint not to try and contact her, but in the weeks that had followed he had decided that they both had to forget what had happened between them. It was the only sane thing they could do.

When his landlord announced that the building had been sold and he had seven days to leave, it had come as something of a surprise. Sylvie's subsequent invitation had been an even greater one. But despite his doubts, he hadn't had the heart to say no. He knew how badly she wanted to make amends for everything and he felt he owed her the chance to try.

He smiled. His relationship with Sylvie had at least gone from strength to strength in the weeks since they'd first met. It would have all too easy to blame her for his rough deal in life, but over time he had come to understand why she had done what she'd done. She had suffered just as much as he had - in some ways, more so. Guilt was a terrible thing.

When the door closed behind him with a sense of finality, Zach picked the rucksack that contained his meagre belongings and headed down the scuffed stairwell, wondering just how Meg was going to react when he moved in. He had a feeling there were likely to be fireworks of one sort or another.

* * *

"I'm going out," snapped Meg defiantly. "I've got a date."

"But I told you Zach was coming tonight," replied Sylvie with as much restraint as she could muster. There was very little point in losing her temper with Meg; it would only exacerbate the situation.

"I don't remember." Meg shrugged. Then she smoothed down her mini skirt and Sylvie fought the urge to comment on the way her daughter was dressed. She sometimes wondered if Meg deliberately went out of her way to shock and provoke her. She certainly dressed provocatively at every given opportunity.

Sylvie sighed. "Forget it. You'll see him soon enough, I guess. Just don't be back too late, please."

"Whatever," Meg said as she grabbed her bag and examined her reflection in the hall mirror. With a quick spray of perfume, she left on a cloud of scent, her heels clattering down the drive.

The silence in the wake of Meg's departure was deafening. Sylvie sat down on the bottom stair and stared into space. Despite her best efforts, her daughter still wouldn't give her the time of day. It was obvious she was still angry at the way she felt she'd been kept in the dark, but Sylvie couldn't help wondering if there was more to it than that. But until Meg began confiding in her again, she was in the dark too.

At least Zach didn't hate his mother. In the time she had begun to get to know him, she was delighted to find that he was a kind, sweet and remarkably well adjusted young man. For the most part their fledgling relationship had progressed well. There had been a few awkward moments, but Sylvie was determined to do her best to try and make up for not standing up to her parents when Zach had been born. If only she had been stronger, then maybe things might have been different.

The sound of a taxi pulling up outside made her jump up. A tall figure strode down the drive as the car rumbled away again and in a few seconds there was a knock on the door.

"Hi, Mum," Zach said as he stood on the threshold of his new home. He grinned shyly for a moment.

Sylvie could barely contain the intense wave of love that swept through her as she hugged him tightly. Her boy was home at last. It was a wonderful feeling; one she had waited a very long time for.

* * *

Zach was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, when he heard the front door open quietly. Instantly the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he froze. It could only be Meg. He knew it was a college night so why on earth she had been out until three o'clock in the morning was a mystery. It was no wonder Sylvie was at her wits end with her unruly daughter.

He stood in the semi darkness of the kitchen, hoping against hope that Meg went straight up to bed. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation. Judging by the muffled bang followed by an, "Ouch", it sounded like Meg was pissed. God only knew what she'd been up to all evening, but Zach was annoyed to find himself jealous at the idea of her fucking some other guy. That was not how he was supposed to feel and he knew it. It hardly boded well for their new living arrangements.

The kitchen door swung open and Meg appeared, wavering slightly as she headed for the fridge. Zach shrank back into the shadow of the alcove and waited for her to leave. In the light that glowed out of the fridge, he noted the shortness of her skirt and the long ladder in her stockings. When she bent over to peer inside, he was treated to a view of her bottom cheeks, full and rounded.

His cock stiffened instantly and he closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his head, but it was impossible.

This is going to be a whole lot harder than I ever envisaged,

he thought hopelessly.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Meg looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. The fridge door was still open and she had a slice of quiche in her hand.

"Good night?" he asked, needing to fill the huge chasm that had opened up between them.

She didn't reply immediately, she just carried on staring at him, her face shrouded in shadows. "Not bad," she said eventually.

"Do you always get home this late?" he couldn't help saying. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

"Yeah, frequently - especially when I've had a hot date." She took a bite out of the wedge of quiche before shoving the remainder back inside the fridge. Once again, Zach was treated to a view of her backside, only this time he was certain it was deliberate.

She kicked the door shut and turned back to face him. "He was a great fuck," she said as she took a few steps towards him, her heels clacking on the tiled floor.

"Don't do this," he warned as she came within touching distance. He could smell her perfume. A mixture of vanilla and something else, a musky female scent.

"Do what?" she said, taunting him. Her hair curled down her shoulders in thick coils, drawing his gaze into her cleavage. "Does it make you jealous knowing that I fucked another man?" she continued, brushing up against him.

"No," he said through gritted teeth. "You're my sister." He wanted to push her away, but he was afraid that if he laid a finger on her, he would lose the plot entirely. "I don't feel that way about you."

"Liar," she said softly as she placed a hand over the bulge in his cotton shorts.

He groaned. "Stop it, Meg, it's wrong and we can't do this any more."

"I know it's wrong," she whispered as she rubbed his erection. "But I can't help it..."

Finally breaking free of the paralysis that was gripping him, Zach pushed her away forcefully. Meg stared at him in surprise then to his horror she began to cry. Fat tears dripped down her cheeks as her body shook with harsh sobs.

Immediately a huge wave of guilt slammed into him. It wasn't her fault, not any of it. It was all a terrible mess and she couldn't help being confused about their relationship. He could hardly claim any different.

Pushing his doubts to one side, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. The feel of her soft breasts pressing against his naked chest did nothing to calm his libido, but he ignored it. The last thing Meg needed was for him to further fan the flames of their forbidden passion.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck, the warmth of her breath tickling his skin.

"Shush," he replied, stroking her hair. "You've drunk too much, that's all. In the morning you'll have forgotten all about this."

"

No, I won't!"

she cried and before Zach could react, she had left him standing alone in the darkness wondering what the hell he was doing here, in this house. It was madness.

* * *

Music thumped from the corner as Meg sat on the edge of her bed, painting her toe nails a deep crimson colour. The thick cream towel wrapped around her body was slipping down, slowly but surely, but she made no attempt to secure it. There was nobody at home - her mum was at some village meeting and Zach had gone to work, so she could have paraded around naked if she wanted.

It had been a difficult week all round. Following her drunken outburst in the kitchen on Zach's first night, Meg had stayed well out of his way. When she had awoken the morning after, she had felt wretched. A headache the size of Africa pounded inside her head and she felt sick to the stomach at the way she'd almost thrown herself at Zach.

Since discovering the truth, Meg had kept her distance from Zach and tried her best to erase the memories of their encounters. She still blamed her mother for it all, but seeing Sylvie's drawn face every morning was eating away at her resolve to punish her and she knew they were going to have to talk about things soon. She loved her mother and she hated the way things were between them.

In the meantime, she had to try and come to terms with having Zach as a half brother. Her best friend, Sarah, knew now – Meg had blurted it all out the night she'd drunk herself stupid when Zach moved in. She hadn't told her everything of course. It was bad enough admitting it to herself that she'd slept with her own brother, let alone admitting it to anyone else.

What made it ten times worse was the knowledge that she still wanted him. Every time she saw him her stomach clenched. It was hell on earth living with him and trying to pretend for the sake of her mother that everything was normal. The strain was killing her slowly.

It was also affecting her sex life. Following her drunken confession to Sarah, she'd actually pulled some guy in the club they ended up at. Nick his name was, she seemed to recall: tall, blond hair and muscular – a real hunk actually. He'd been more than happy to take Meg back to his place and show her a good time.

Unfortunately, half way through and while he was lying between her legs attempting to show her the way to nirvana with his tongue, Meg had suddenly realised that she couldn't go through with it. Each time she closed her eyes, Zach's face appeared. Eventually she'd pushed Nick away and hurriedly pulled her clothes together.

"What's going on?" he'd asked in surprise, his cock still poking lewdly through the open zip of his jeans.

"I'm sorry, I just can't," she'd muttered, turning away from him, full of self-loathing.

"It's a bit fucking late to tell me that!" Nick tried to grab her waist, but he missed and only succeeded in snagging her stocking with his wristwatch.

"I'm going home," she snapped with more bravado than she felt as she grabbed her bag from the table. His handsome face was distorted with anger now and Meg was scared. She cursed her stupidity. Having sex with some anonymous man was not going to kill her feelings for Zach.

"You teasing bitch!" Nick snarled. "You were up for it a few minutes ago, so you can fucking finish what you started 'cause this 'aint going away just yet." He grabbed his cock and advanced towards her with a look of determination.

Meg turned swiftly, desperately trying to reach the front door before he got hold of her again. Her sweating palm found the smooth knob just as a hand hooked around her waist. She froze.

"Don't do this," she whispered. She could hardly breathe.

Nick reached up and groped her tits roughly. He found her nipple and pinched it making her cry out in pain

"I prefer it when the ladies participate, but it doesn't matter when they don't," he remarked almost conversationally. His breath felt hot and heavy on her neck and when his other hand thrust between her thighs, she realised that she was in dire straits.

"Let me go!" She struggled and he tightened his grip on her. Her skirt was yanked up and she felt his cock sliding between her legs like an oily serpent.

Suddenly the telephone rang from across the room. Feeling Nick's attention shift away and him loosen his hold, Meg saw her opportunity. She wrenched her body from his grasp and turned to knee him between the legs. He slumped down on to the floor with an agonised groan, his face turning a horrible green colour.

Meg twisted the dead lock on the door and ran, flying outside like the devil himself was on her tail. Once she'd reached the relative safety of the main road, she slowed down and paused for breath. It was half past two in the morning and she was miles from home. Judging by the scarcity of taxis in the vicinity, she was likely to have a long walk home.

Or so it seemed. She had been lucky in the end – a taxi had stopped and she hadn't arrived home too late. Seeing Zach in the kitchen had given her quite a turn. If she hadn't been so drunk and upset, she would have walked straight back out again, but common sense had unfortunately left the building.

As soon as she clapped eyes on him again, she experienced a massive jolt of lust. The way he stared at her coldly only inflamed her desire all the more. The knowledge that he was strictly off limits failed to stop her behaving like a spoilt brat denied the latest toy.

When she felt his cock, hard for her, she knew the truth. He still wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Strangely that realisation didn't make her happy. It only succeeded in making her miserable. When he pushed her away, her emotions got the better of her and she cracked completely. The only course left was to run away from the scene of the accident and head for the sanctuary of her bedroom and sleep.

Now she was alone in the house, at least she could relax. She examined her toenails and grinned at the way they gleamed with blood red polish. She could wear her new sparkly shoes and they would be perfect.

Meg stood, the towel dropping on to the carpet in a damp heap. She scanned her dressing table, looking for the bottle of moisturiser, but it was missing. Realising that she'd left it in the bathroom she nonchalantly strolled down the landing, singing along to her favourite track on the stereo.

Sure enough, the bottle was lying on the wooden shelf beside the sink, exactly where she'd left it. Still singing loudly, Meg grabbed it and turned to leave the bathroom. At that precise moment, Zach walked through the open door and cannoned straight into her.

The lyrics of the song stuck in her throat as she felt his hands grab her hips to prevent her from falling. Suddenly she felt hot and light headed. His stubbly jaw grazed the soft skin of her cheek and she could smell the sweet scent on beer on his tee shirt. Rough denim chafed her thighs and almost instantly she was wet, an insistent pulse throbbing between her legs.

"Meg, I...sorry," he tried to say although he was still holding her.

"What're you doing home?" she asked huskily, rapidly losing her sense of time and place as he stared down at her with his blue, blue eyes.

"Boss fucked up the rota and there were too many of us. So I got the evening off..."

She wasn't really listening. The words were like warm honey washing over her and as much as her brain was screaming at her to run away,

now

, her body simply wasn't taking a blind bit of notice.

The instant their lips touched, it was as if the touch paper had been ignited and all hell broke loose.

"We should...stop this," he rasped in her ear, his mouth moving lower and biting her neck, drawing blood.

I can't,

she thought mindlessly. Instead she pulled him close and covered his mouth with her own again, effectively ending the conversation.

She ached with need. Frantically pulling his jeans open, she found him hard and ready for her.

"Oh god," Zach whispered as the seconds ticked by. Then, as he had done the first time, he pushed her away and refused to look at her. Shame washed over her like a frigid wave.

"I'm so sorry," he said in a broken voice.

Meg said nothing. She closed her eyes and listened to the music still emanating from her bedroom.

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

If only it were that easy,

she thought in desolation.

* * *

Zach avoided Meg's eyes when he passed her in the kitchen the following day. Sylvie was buttering some toast and humming softly. "Want some?" she called cheerfully as he flopped down at the table.

"Yeah, okay," he replied, trying without success to inject some enthusiasm into the words. But it was impossible. His head pounded and every time he closed his eyes, he could see her: her milky white skin and voluptuous curves. She haunted his every waking moment; and most of his sleeping ones. Not that there had been many of those lately.

"What are your plans today?" Sylvie asked as she placed a plate of toast in front of him.

"Not much," he said, his attention drifting towards Meg who was standing on the threshold to the garden. Her hair gleamed in the weak sunlight and for a moment he was dazzled by the way it shone like burnished copper.

Then he realised their mother was still talking and he reluctantly dragged his gaze away. "...if you could, it would be nice."

"Huh?"

Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Does anybody listen to me in this house?" she said with a faint laugh. "I

, I have to go out this evening – another committee meeting with the interminable Mr Hollingsworth – so I thought it would be nice if you two did something together?"

Judging by the way Meg spun around with a sudden guilty expression on her face she had been thinking much the same thoughts as him. Her dressing gown was wrapped around her body tightly, but he could still see the shape of her tits, straining against the silky fabric. She caught his look and deliberately crossed her arms provocatively, deepening the cleft between her breasts. He groaned inwardly and tried to think of something else other than his cock,

there.