Squick alert: Contains incest as well as a general reference to anal sex.
All characters engaging in sexual activity are 18 or older. This is a work of erotic fiction and any resemblance between the characters or events depicted in this story and any actual persons, living or dead, or events is coincidental and entirely unintentional.
Liberties were taken with the interpretation of Wisconsin state law. I call it creative license, law enforcement may not see it that way if you do it in real life. Remember kids, just 'cause you can don't mean you should.
Let's get busy...
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Gossip is a fact of life. Any time you have more than two people in an enclosed space, you're going to get gossip. It's been one of the constants of the universe since humanity came into existence.
Our workplace was no exception to that rule. It usually took less than 24 hours for a normal piece of gossip to go from origination to public knowledge. The news that my sister Julie had broken up with her boyfriend Harley on New Year's Eve was headline news by the next morning.
To quote Don Henley, "People love dirty laundry." The dirtier, the better.
The three of us had started working for the company at the same time, we trained together, worked on a few projects together, and eventually were promoted to supervisor of different projects.
Coworkers having relationships wasn't prohibited by the company but it was strongly discouraged, for obvious reasons. The informal solution when word got out was to separate the lovebirds first so they weren't disruptive. If, and usually when, the relationship soured, we would just move one of them to another team and perhaps change their schedule. Whatever it took to separate them so they weren't a problem. Rarely did we have to push it up the chain to the site manager. When that happened, somebody was going to end up unemployed. Herman was the site manager and he was an asshole when it came to disturbing his peace.
Julie and Harley had started dating almost immediately after we were hired. I didn't much care for him, he was a jerk unless and until he wanted in your pants. He thought he was much better looking and smarter than he was in reality.
My sister, on the other hand, was actually much more attractive than she thought she was. She wasn't cover girl pretty, more the girl next door type of cute. She was smart, didn't take shit from anybody, and was able to think on her feet. Except when it came to Harley.
In the beginning, we had quite a few disagreements about her relationship. She seemed happy so I gave up trying to make her see the light. The strain on our relationship just wasn't worth it. That was another reason I hated the fucker. He had driven a wedge between us that still hadn't quite healed in the three plus years they had been together.
Harley wasn't even his real name, that was Harlan. He had a bike, of course, it was a Harley, so he co-opted the name. I called him Harlan when I wanted to piss him off, meaning pretty much all of the time. Every so often, I would call him Honda in front of whatever girl he was trying to impress, knowing that would make her laugh, and then introduce myself as his girlfriend's brother.
Julie had shown up at my apartment at 12:05 a.m. on New Year's Day. As expected, it was colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra that night. I wasn't happy when I opened the door. I had been asleep and I didn't like being woken up. Especially in the middle of the night.
As soon as I realized who it was through the peephole, I opened the door and let her in. I still wasn't happy but all she had on for warmth was a down jacket and some insulated boots. Her party dress barely came down far enough to cover her ass and she wasn't wearing any type of hose. I couldn't let her stand outside and freeze while I bitched at her for waking me up.
Julie was 17 months older than me, so she had the big sister intimidation thing down. She pushed past me and headed toward the couch. The only word she said was "Don't." Her tone made it clear she wasn't kidding. I could smell alcohol mixed with her perfume as she passed me, rum at a guess.
Once I closed the door behind her and relocked it, she shrugged off the jacket and her little bag, dropping them on the couch. She dropped the heels she had been carrying on the floor and then flopped down beside her jacket to remove her boots. She made no attempt at modesty, flashing me with views of panties that were bright blue, very high cut in the front, and made from sheer lace, as she pulled the boots off one at a time. She had gone all out for tonight, manicure, pedicure, makeup, hair, the works.
While trying to avoid staring at the upskirt display, I noted that two things were missing from her outfit. The gold "H" necklace she had always worn and the ring she wore on her left ring finger.
I sat down in the armchair across from her. "You want something to drink?"
She simply nodded. I had a bottle of Grey Goose that she had given me one year, which was her favorite liquor. I also kept some bottled iced tea in the fridge. I grabbed a few ice cubes, tossed them in a glass, brought all of it out, and set it on the coffee table. She seemed like a girl sorely in need of a stiff drink.
She poured a couple of ounces of the vodka into the glass and filled the remainder with the tea. We had learned that concoction from my maternal grandmother. It was the only way she could tolerate our grandfather and our mother, apparently. She took a large swallow and closed her eyes.
Even though I was still half asleep, it was clear to me that my sister was hanging on to what was left of her self-control for dear life. Her hands were shaking, making the ice lightly chatter against the sides of the glass. She was taking measured deep breaths in an attempt to keep her emotions in check.
I quietly got up and moved next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder. She started shaking as she lay her head on my shoulder and let out a deep sigh. I tilted my head so that my cheek was resting against the top of her head. I had no idea what to say so I kept my peace. The last thing she needed was an "I told you so" right now.
It didn't take long to figure out that she was losing the battle to keep from crying. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen her cry. She wasn't an overly emotional person so this was all sort of new to me. The onset was slow, as the shaking became more intense and her breath started hitching. Once that started, it wasn't very long before I could feel the tears start dripping onto my upper chest.
I took the glass from her with my left hand and put it on the coffee table. She reached across me to grab my hand with her right hand and proceeded to hold it with both of hers while she cried quietly. Our family wasn't the demonstrative type so she was really hurting to be this open.
After a while, her crying quieted down and then stopped. She let go of my hand and reached for the glass, taking another healthy swallow from it before returning her head to my shoulder. A few minutes later, she took another good-sized swallow and then had another good cry. When that episode ended, she finished her glass and immediately poured a stronger one.
