Chapter 1

The wind was blowing, not an unusual event, not in Milltown, a small mining town situated on a mountain slope in the Sierras in the state of Nevada. Most mountain ranges in the Sierras ran north and south, and the wind, unimpeded for hundreds of miles, had plenty of room to roar through the valleys.

A tailings pond covered the valley below the town. Tailings were residue from the mill and smelter, and small, dirty streams carried this waste byproduct to the valley floor. The sun evaporated the water, leaving a flat surface of sand and fine dirt, and when the wind blew, dust storms ensued.

The storm underway was a doozy, and reminded Darrin Cannon why he had left Milltown shortly after graduating from high school to go out into the world to make his fortune. Poverty still plagued him, though. Moving out of poverty wasn’t easy if one chose fine art as a vocation. His life’s work had overwhelmed his mind and soul, so he slapped paint to canvas nearly every day to hone his craft, and he saw progress, evolution, and promise in his work. Though convinced someday he would break out of the starving-artist syndrome, he didn’t daydream about fame and fortune, not any longer. His dreams now entailed solutions to problems he faced with his work. If the truth were known, Darrin Cannon didn’t give a rat’s ass about fame and fortune. He cared only about his art.

He had returned to his humble beginnings at Carrie’s request to attend her high school graduation ceremony. He had never been able to tell his younger sister no, not when he lived at home, or since, but she didn’t ask the impossible or take undue advantage of any situation, so when she asked, he rearranged his not-so-busy schedule and made the trek to his parents’ home.

Raised as an only child until Carrie was born nine years after his birth, Darrin resented all the attention his sister attracted and demanded - at first. Then he fell in love with her. She seemed so perfect to him, smiling up at him, gurgling happily and content when he held her in his skinny arms. He didn’t recognize his love for her at the time, but the baby did, and as all babies do, if they’re loved, they love right back, only twice as much. To Darrin, the sun rose and set for his little sister. He cuddled her, changed her diapers, fed her, and read her stories - and made hundreds of sketches of her. They both cried when he left nine years later, Carrie more than he, but then he was trying to appear manly. He’d visited Milltown since he left, but not often. Regardless, brother and sister had remained close. Carrie wanted to be a writer, and she sent him many letters. He cherished and saved all of them and felt guilty because he rarely wrote to her, but he did send her drawings from time to time. Last summer during a short visit, he noted she had pinned up his drawings in her room instead of posters of rock stars, which pleased him.

Darrin had the peculiar talent of looking at something or someone and rendering it in realistic detail, including light and shade and in three dimensions. His mother first noticed the ability when he was about four years old and encouraged him to explore his talent. The little town offered no tutors, so he worked on his own, sketching everything and everyone around him. They couldn’t afford paint or canvas, and even if they could, it wouldn’t have dawned on Darrin to move from paper and pencil or ink to color. At his age, he saw the world in black and white. Only later, after he left his humble beginnings, did he discover the wonderful world of color, and still he didn’t seek out a teacher. He sold his first painting two years ago for a sum that didn’t cover his weekly food expense, but the sale offered validation, and he redoubled his efforts, cutting back on the crap jobs he took to pay the rent and purchase his art supplies. Soon, he hoped he could paint full-time. He’d be poor, but he didn’t care, not if his art could support him.

Sitting alone in the tiny home of his youth, he gazed out the living room window and saw a dust-blurred scene that included railroad tracks and the run-down wooden homes of the neighborhood. Greenery was sparse, and obscured by the dust, he saw only shades of brown. It’s no wonder color didn’t intrigue me when I lived here, he thought. Carrie represents the only beauty in this God-forsaken place. His mother, too, he conceded. Darrin had always loved his mother. She was feminine but tough, and unlike Darrin’s father, accepted and encouraged her son’s need to explore his art. He heard sounds on the front porch, and Carrie burst in with a flurry of dust.

“Goddamn day,” she muttered out loud to herself, not realizing Darrin could hear and see her. “Shit!” Anger glinted in her dark eyes.

“Having a bad hair day, sis?” he asked.

She spun toward him and blushed.

He patted the sofa next to him. “Come here and tell me about it.” He loved the sound of her voice, surprisingly low in timbre considering her size.

“Just a sec. I want to wash first. I feel grimy. Damned dust.”

He watched her prance away from him toward the one bathroom in the house. Yep, he decided yet again, she’s utterly beautiful, both in body and spirit. Small, a size four, with an alluring little body, she’d never be a runway model, but her face could enhance the cover of any magazine. He loved her dark-chocolate-hued eyes capped with perfectly shaped eyebrows. Her long, mahogany hair framed an oval face with prominent cheekbones and a thin, pert nose. Her mouth was a touch too narrow, but her lips were full, and he had brushed his lips to hers so many times in their youth their sibling-like kisses had become commonplace. Her perky breasts excited Darrin more than he’d like, but her legs were her best feature. They appeared long in proportion to the rest of her less-than-average height. To Darrin, Carrie’s overall look presented a perfect package. He smiled, knowing he was prejudiced in the extreme.

She returned and flopped on the sofa next to him, her short skirt flying high and then settling demurely on her thighs. She crossed her ankles and held one hand with the other on her lap - a practiced, ladylike pose, no doubt taught to her by her mother.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“I just found out I won’t have a summer job like I planned. The company gave the job to Ellen Maxwell.”

“Ah, that’s a shame, Carrie.”

She had told him she felt sure she’d be hired as a lifeguard at the spring-fed swimming facility the company maintained for the use of its employees. The pool was more like a pond, about one hundred by fifty yards in size, and required at least two lifeguards whenever open to the public. Carrie had been a substitute lifeguard last year, and graduating seniors usually earned a permanent position for the summer.

She grimaced. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. If I want to go to college this fall, and I do, I need a job. I was awarded a little scholarship, and I’ve saved like crazy, but I’m still short. I figured I’d sponge off the parents this summer and save every penny I made at the job to get me through the first year. Mom and Dad will help, but they can’t help much.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Damn it! I counted on that job. It’s not fair!”

He took her hand in his. “You’ll find another job.”

“No, that’s the problem. No other jobs are available, not temporary ones, at least. If I planned to stay in this God-forsaken hole the rest of my life, I could probably wrangle a job, but ... ah hell! It’s not fair. Ellen’s daddy is a foreman. That’s why she got the job instead of me.”

No one in Milltown was rich, but still a caste system had formed many years ago and flourished even in the current more enlightened times. Sons and daughters of management didn’t socialize with children of union employees, and the small town even had areas designated by ethnic groups like Greek town and Austrian town. Darrin understood his sister’s dilemma. He’d been subjected to the system in his youth, and fighting the issue would be a no-win situation.

Darrin had an idea, but he didn’t know if either Carrie or the parents would go for it. What the hell, he thought. “Carrie, sponge off me for the summer. Vegas offers lots of jobs, and you could go to college in Las Vegas instead of Reno. Is the scholarship transferable?”

Her face brightened and she smiled, lighting up the dust-filled day. Darrin loved her smiles. “Yes!” Then, she grimaced. “Daddy will never go for it.”

“Why not?”

She chuckled. “He’s seen that hovel you live in.”

“For your information, young lady, I’ve moved, or rather I’m in the process of moving. Just before I left Vegas, I rented a warehouse for a studio, and it has a loft where I’ll live, and the loft has an extra room. The room isn’t large, but it’s larger than the tiny bedroom you’re using here. I have to pay the rent anyway, so you could live there rent-free this summer while you work, and while you go to school, too, for that matter, though you’d probably need transportation. The university isn’t close enough to walk, and I don’t think the bus service would work for you, though it’s a possibility.”

“Really?”

“Yep. What do you think?”

She squealed, hopped on his lap, and gave him a big hug. “That’s what I think,” she said with a happy expression. “You saved my life, big bro!” She hugged his neck again and then kissed him, and the kiss wasn’t like all the many kisses they had shared over the years, not by a long shot. Darrin felt his toes curling. The embrace shocked him, as did his reaction when he started to become aroused. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he left them at her waist.

“Ahem.”

Darrin’s eyes snapped open. His mother stood at the entrance to the living room. Carrie hopped off his lap as if nothing unusual had just happened and rushed to her mother, giving her a hug as well. “I didn’t get the lifeguard job, Mom, but Darrin has a solution. He’s going to let me live with him, so I can...

“Whoa, young lady. Slow down. Start at the beginning. Join us in the kitchen, Darrin.”

The three of them sat around the kitchen table, where all family meetings and discussions took place, and Carrie brought her mother up to date.

“He says the loft has an extra room, Mom.”

Harriet Cannon turned to her son. “Describe this loft for me, Darrin.”

“Well, it isn’t much. It has a tiny kitchen, a small bath, and three small rooms. One of the rooms opens to the kitchen and the studio below, and I’d planned to use it as a living room. One of the other rooms will be my bedroom, and Carrie can use the other room for her bedroom.”

“Vegas gets hot in the summer, hotter than here. Is the loft air-conditioned?”

“No, and if it were, I couldn’t afford it. It’s a large studio, Mom, actually a warehouse.”

“What about heat?”

“No, come winter I planned to buy electric space heaters that can be moved from room to room. We’re not talking luxury, Mom, but it’s adequate.” He smiled. “It does have running water.”

“That’s nice,” she said sarcastically. “Is it clean?”

“No, right now it’s a sty. I rented it just before I left Vegas. I planned to clean it up, paint the rooms in the loft, toss some area rugs on the floor and call it home. I rented it mostly for the studio space. I like to work on more than one painting at a time, and I’m doing large paintings now, so I needed the space. Carrie explained her problem to me, and I offered a possible solution. That’s all.”

Harriet’s expression softened. “I know, son.” She turned to Carrie. “Your dad will have a conniption.”

“Yeah, but if you help, we can turn him around, Mom.”

“Uh-uh, but here’s what I suggest. Tell your father you want to drive back to Vegas with Darrin to look the place over, not move in, just look it over. If you want to live there, the two of you clean it up, and I mean from top to bottom. Paint it, like you planned, Darrin. Then call me, and I’ll drive down with your father to check it out. It wouldn’t hurt if you had a job by then, Carrie.”

“Yes!” She hopped on her mother’s lap, gave her a hug and a kiss, and then did the same with Darrin again, only this time the kiss was toned down - a sister-type kiss.

---

Four days later, Darrin’s car was loaded to the gills not only with Carrie’s belongings but also household items contributed by her mother. Carrie looked across the seat at her brother. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. She was going to live with the only man she’d ever loved. Carrie didn’t know when she fell in love with her big brother, but she had. She’d dated, but none of the boys attracted her, not like Darrin. She had hoped she’d grown out of the crush she had on him, but when he visited for a few days last summer, she discovered her feelings for him were even more powerful than she realized. She melted when she looked at him, and when he touched her, her blood ran hot. She’d told no one how she felt, not even Darrin - especially Darrin. And she nearly blew everything when she kissed him last week. The kiss started innocently enough, but reason momentarily escaped her, and she went with her feelings. Fortunately, her mother’s arrival had brought her back from the brink. She’d need to be very careful. If Darrin found out how she felt about him, he’d send her away.

She had a plan. She’d help him set up their home, cook for him, be like a wife for him in every way but one. But for the accident of her birth, she could be like a wife for him in every way. Hell, she could be his wife. Life just wasn’t fair, but at the moment, she couldn’t complain. She was going to set up housekeeping with the love of her life!

“I’m so excited, bro. I just realized I’m no longer a resident of Milltown!”

He laughed. “I know how you feel. When I left nine years ago, I felt the same way, except I hated how sad you were about my leaving.”

“I remember. I gave you a bad time, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Leaving you wasn’t easy for me, either. I loved you, sis. Still do.”

He reached and took her hand in his, giving it a little squeeze, and she felt her heart start to race. She’d need to get a handle on the effects of his brotherly touches, or she’d be a basket case before the trip to Vegas ended, let alone the months and years ahead.

Incest. What a shame it was such a dirty word. She’d researched the subject over the last two years, but the material available in her small town was meager. Most of the information on the subject she’d gleaned from a computer at the high school that had a connection to the Internet. Surprisingly, she discovered not everyone reviled the practice. Some even celebrated incest as a way of life. Another glance at her brother’s masculine profile made her realize if he ever wanted her, she’d willingly accept him as a lover, incestuous or not. She grimaced. Of course, she couldn’t be the one to start anything. He’d reject her for sure, and she couldn’t live with the rejection.

“Did you leave a boyfriend behind?” Darrin asked with a sly grin.

“One or two. No one special.” I’m looking at my boyfriend, she thought. “What about you? Anyone special?” Please, please, say no.

“No. I have neither the time nor the money to nurture a relationship, sis. I know I’ll sound pompous, but right now I’m committed to my art.”

She relaxed, but decided to push the issue. “You’re not celibate, are you?”

He laughed. “Almost.”

She loved his laugh. The low rumble animated his normally intense expression, and his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Well, I don’t want to hamper what little love life you have, so if you need some time alone at the loft with someone, let me know, and I’ll make myself scarce.” Right after I scratch the slut’s eyes out, she added silently.

He grinned and turned to her. “What about you? To use your word, do you plan to be celibate?”

“Yep. I need to work and save this summer. College is important to me, Darrin. Besides, I plan to write and improve my writing abilities in my spare time.”

“The male usually pays for the date.”

“Yeah, and expects payment in return, the kind of payment I’m not interested in at the moment.”

He snickered. “We should get along famously. A couple of celibate siblings, plying and perfecting our crafts.”

They chatted. He told her about his work. She listened avidly because she wanted to know everything about him. They talked about her writing, their parents, Milltown, and many other subjects, and Carrie couldn’t remember a more pleasant trip.

When they pulled into Las Vegas, Darrin said, “We’ll need a cheap room for the night. It’s too late to set up anything at the loft, and it’s too dirty to sleep in. I can’t afford two rooms, Carrie. Would you be opposed to staying in a room with me? I’ll find one with two beds, of course.”

She smiled. “You’ve got to be kidding, bro. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do, except maybe stay in a room with you with only one bed.” “No problem. We might as well get used to bumping into each other,” she said with a chuckle.

A half hour later, Darrin opened the door to a small room. “It isn’t much, but it’s just for sleeping, and it does have a private bath and two beds. Do you want to go out to eat or shall I get some takeout, Chinese or something? I know a place nearby.”

“Chinese would be fine. I’ll shower and get ready for bed while you pick up the food. We should try to get an early start in the morning.”

After the shower, she pulled on a pair of panties and a t-shirt. She had a robe, but decided to leave it in the suitcase. It was hot. Darrin would just have to understand. Besides, she wanted to test his reaction to her dressed as she was. She wiped the fog from the mirror with a towel, brushed her hair, and applied new lipstick. She heard the door to the motel room open and close. Darrin had arrived with the food.

He looked up at her when she entered the room and whistled. “Sexy,” he said. “You have the greatest legs, sis. Let’s eat while it’s hot, then I’ll shower.”

His compliment pleased her more than it should. She beamed and performed a graceful pirouette. “This is how I sleep? Do you mind?” She loved his eyes on her. The panties were sheer and the t-shirt tight.

“Not at all. I usually sleep naked, but tonight I’ll leave my boxers on.”

Go naked, bro. It’s okay with me. Glancing at the small table in the corner of the room with one chair, she could see eating would be difficult. “Get the picnic basket from the car, Darrin. It has paper plates and other things we’ll need.”

He groaned. “Where is it?”

“In back on the floor behind the driver’s side, easy to get at. It’s under some linen and blankets. Oh, and there’s a folded camp chair on top of everything in the trunk.” She had packed the car with her mother’s help.

He returned with the basket and chair, and she quickly set up the table so they could eat. She could feel his eyes on her while she busied herself. Did he like what he saw?

When he started to sit in the camp chair, she said, “Uh-uh. You take that chair. As big as you are, the camp chair might not hold you.”

They settled down and dove into the food. “Good,” Carrie commented between bites.

“I eat Chinese at least once a week. McDonald’s gets old real quick.”

“Well, I need to earn my keep. I’ll cook for you once in a while.” Every night, if that’s what he wants.

He laughed. “Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

That’s my plan, big guy. She reached with her napkin and wiped his chin. “Spoil you and civilize you. Have you ever lived with a woman, bro?”

“Once, for about a week, but she didn’t try to spoil or civilize me. She was beautiful and sexy and a complete slob. Without trying, she made messes everywhere and never picked up after herself. Living alone, I’ve learned some shortcuts to keep my house neat, not necessarily clean, but at least neat.”

“Did you toss her out, or did she leave?”

“I tossed her out. I’m not a neat freak, but I couldn’t stand the messes she made, and after only a few days, I didn’t like her anymore, either. She came home from her job, and I had her bags packed, which wasn’t easy with her things spread all over the place.” He chuckled. “I kept finding her stuff for days after she left.”

“Well, I’ll try not to make messes.”

He laughed heartily. “Carrie, you wouldn’t know how to make a mess. You’re like Mom. Organized to the max. A place for everything and everything in its place. I only hope I’m not too messy for you.”

If you are, I’ll just pick up after you,” she thought. That’s part of my plan, too.

---

When he returned to the bedroom after his shower, Carrie was lying on top of the bed reading. Her t-shirt had slipped up on her cute body, giving him a view of her flat stomach and endearing bellybutton. The flesh around the button looked so soft he wanted to nuzzle his face on her satiny skin. He could also see a hint of her pubic hair through the sheer fabric of her cotton panties, and he felt the beginnings of an erection.

She looked up at him and smiled. “I’d whistle like you did,” she said, “but I don’t know how. You’re a hunk, bro.”

You’re sick,” he told himself. She’s your sister, for Christ’s sake. She shouldn’t excite you sexually. Besides, she’s going to live with you. As she said, you’ll need to get used to seeing her half-naked and bumping into her.

She laid her book down and rolled one leg to the floor and then the other one, and with the movement gave him a brief open view of her panty-clad pussy. Dark pubic hairs poked out from the edges of the fabric, and the gusset appeared damp, which made it translucent. He decided he’d better crawl under the sheets quickly before his growing erection became too noticeable.

He groaned inwardly as she bent with her cute butt pointed toward him as she pulled down the covers on her bed. She turned to him and quickly moved up against him. Could she feel him? Of course, she could. She’d have to be paralyzed from the neck down to avoid knowing he was fully erect. He wanted to die.

“Goodnight, bro,” she said with a smile as her arms wrapped around his waist. “Thank you for inviting me to live with you. You saved my life.”

His arms automatically went around her, and she turned her head flat against his chest and hugged him. He hugged her back. “Goodnight,” he said, feeling so embarrassed he wanted to crawl under the bed, not in it.

She went up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss, a sisterly kiss, thank God, turned and crawled into her bed, which was one of the sexiest sights he’d ever seen.

Blushing, he quickly pulled back the covers on his bed and climbed inside. Shit, the overhead light was still on. Well, he wasn’t about to get up to turn it off and let her watch his hard-on bounce as he moved to the door.

“Would you get the light, sis?”

He’s embarrassed, she thought as she pushed back the covers and pranced to the door. She could feel his eyes on her again, so she exaggerated her wiggle just a bit. Just before she turned out the light, she turned to him again. Yep, he was watching her butt. “Goodnight,” she repeated as the room went dark. On her return trip, she stumbled over the camp chair and cursed. “Sorry,” she said. She couldn’t believe she had said the “F” word, but she had. What would he think? Would he think her crude?

Finally in bed again, she turned toward him. The room was very dark, so she couldn’t see him. She wished some light from the street streamed into the room. She wanted to watch him sleep.

Shivering with passion, she remembered how he had looked at her when he exited the bathroom after his shower. Seeing her lying on the bed had excited him, and his penis had started to lengthen, which reminded her of the previous week when she had kissed him, that infamous kiss that went too far. He had become partially erect then, too, which thrilled her because she had the power to arouse him. But tonight was special. He stood gazing at her, studying her, and he obviously liked what he saw. She had moved off the bed and hugged him because she wanted to feel his erection against her again, and a sisterly goodnight hug and kiss gave her the perfect excuse. It felt so long, and it throbbed, and she had wanted desperately to grasp it in her hand, to fondle its length, and then stroke it - for starters.

She reached between her legs and rubbed the gusset of her panties. They were wet, very wet. Pushing her panties to the side, she ran her fingers over her pussy, dipping one inside, and then rolling the tip of her finger over her swollen clitoris. She wanted to give herself an orgasm. Without release, it would be difficult to sleep, but she couldn’t, not with Darrin only a few feet from her. If she tried, she knew she couldn’t remain completely silent. Reluctantly, she pulled her fingers away and rolled onto her side so she faced him.

Darrin reached down and wrapped his hand around his hard-on, which was now poking out the slit in his boxers. She knew I was hard, he thought, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she made a point of rubbing up against it when she hugged me goodnight. God, she’s sexy. What are you going to do? How can you live with her if she gives you a hard-on every time you see her? He stroked his hard shaft once and groaned silently. God, he needed to make himself come. Without some relief, he didn’t think he could sleep, and tomorrow would be a busy day. They’d left a wake-up call for six o’clock. Pulling his hand away from his erection, he rolled to his side facing her. He wished some light filtered in through the windows from outside so he could see her. He’d love to watch her sleep. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing, and soon his breathing became synchronized with hers, becoming slower and deeper...

Chapter 2

The telephone jangled, a hateful, raucous sound. Darrin opened one eye and glared at the offensive instrument disturbing his sleep.

“Answer the damn phone, Darrin.”

Who? Carrie. Suddenly, he remembered. Carrie was in the bed across the room. He reached and picked up the phone. “Yeah.”

“It’s six o’clock, sir.”

“Yeah, thanks.” When he tried to replace the phone on the receiver, he missed and it fell to the floor. “Fuck!” Then he remembered Carrie. “Sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll get it.” She pushed the covers off her and rolled her feet to the floor. After hanging up the phone, she stretched, pulling her hands high and arching her back.

Now that’s a sight I’d like to wake up to every morning, he thought, and his morning erection throbbed. He watched as she rubbed her eyes with her fists.

“I’ll brush my teeth first. Okay?”

“Yeah.” His eyes never left her as she rummaged in her luggage and pulled out a bag containing her makeup and toiletries. When the bathroom door closed, he grabbed his hard-on and stroked it. One stroke turned into two, and then three. He heard the toilet flush, and he picked up the pace. Did he have time? Could he come before she returned? No, she didn’t take any clothes in the bathroom with her, just her toiletries. He groaned with disappointment and pulled his hand from his throbbing shaft.

In the bathroom, Carrie reminisced about the previous evening and felt a twinge of arousal. After brushing her teeth, she noticed her nipples were hard, creating noticeable points in the t-shirt. She shrugged. He had seen the same points in the cotton stretched over her breasts last night. Smiling wickedly, she reached and pinched each nipple, making the points even more noticeable. She opened the door and returned to the bedroom. “Do you want the bathroom before I dress?” she asked.

“No, go ahead.”

Bending to pull clothes from her suitcase, she glanced over her shoulder. His eyes were fixed on her behind. Cool. She smiled. “I’m wearing old clothes today, okay?”

“Definitely appropriate. You have a great butt, sis.”

She looked back at him and smiled. “Thanks. I hope I’m not grossing you out.”

“Not at all. I’m enjoying the scenery.”

“Perv.” As soon as she said the word, she wanted to take it back. With the clothes in her hands, she turned to him. “I didn’t mean that, bro. It was just a joke.”

“I know. Get dressed. I’m going to need the bathroom soon.”

The door closed again, and he rolled his feet to the floor. Looking down, he slapped his hard-on. “Perv,” he said and laughed out loud. He shook his head. She’s going to live with you, perv, he told himself, so get a grip. She’s your sister, not a potential lover. You’re supposed to protect her from perverts like you.

He stood and pulled the drapery open. Bright sunlight filled the room. His mouth tasted like wool, and he wanted a cup of coffee badly. He’d left his trousers on the back of a chair, so he pulled them on. Gathering the garbage from their meal, he opened the door and found a trash receptacle to dump the bag. The door was locked when he returned, and his key was atop the dresser inside. Great! Are you going to fuck up all day, perv? He knocked on the door. He could see the bathroom through the window. He knocked again. The bathroom door opened, and Carrie stood wearing nothing but an old pair of shorts. Her naked, pert breasts were perfectly shaped, high and proud on her chest. He captured the sight in his photographic mind. Simply magnificent!

“What?” she hollered, and then she saw him through the window. With a squeal, she hopped back into the bathroom.

“I locked myself out,” he shouted.

“Just a minute. Let me put something on and I’ll let you in.” Jeez, first I call him a pervert, and then I expose myself like an exhibitionist. No, she decided with a grin. Last night I was an exhibitionist. This morning was an accident - a good accident. She’d noticed her brother had enjoyed the accidental view. Perhaps she could engineer some similar accidents. She threw on a t-shirt and let him in.

“Nice tits, sis.”

“I like your chest, too. Sorry about being an exhibitionist. I’ll try to be more ladylike for the rest of the day.”

Too bad, he thought.

To hell with ladylike, she decided. She’d reserve ladylike for another time, like when in public with him. He was responding to her as a woman, not as his sister - her preferred response. Glancing furtively at his bare chest, she had an urge to rain kisses across its expanse. Were his nipples as sensitive as hers?

---

Carrie’s heart sank when they arrived at the studio and loft. Dirty didn’t describe it. Years and years of dirt and grime covered every surface.

“I rented the place for the studio, sis, and it came cheap,” Darrin said.

“I wonder why,” she quipped sardonically. “Careful, she warned herself. He’ll think you’re ungrateful.”

He pointed at some grimy windows near the ceiling on one wall. “The clerestory glass on the north wall provides perfect light for painting during daylight, and I have space to work on a dozen paintings all at once if I want to. The industrial sink and counter over there are perfect. With some long worktables scattered here and there, I couldn’t ask for a better environment for a studio.”

He sees only the potential of the studio of his dreams, she thought. He doesn’t give a damn about the living space, only the studio. Lord knows what the loft looks like. “Show me the loft, Darrin.”

They trudged up the rickety stairs. “I’ll need to tighten up the railing,” he said. “I hope you’re not too disheartened, Carrie. The loft isn’t much, but we can make it work.”

At the landing, she gazed around. “Not much” had been a gross exaggeration. He had piled his furniture and belongings in the center of what was to become their living room and covered his meager possessions with a sheet of plastic to protect them from the dirt and grime until he returned. Turning to the kitchen, if what she saw could be termed a kitchen, she groaned with disappointment. A single, chipped and yellow-stained sink had a small counter to its left, maybe two feet long - the only counter space in the kitchen. A tiny refrigerator rested next to the counter to the left, and she could see a small freestanding range and oven to the right of the sink. That was all. The entire kitchen ran along one wall and couldn’t be more than eight feet wide, if that. No cabinets, no pantry.

When she turned to Darrin, he looked ashamed, as he should, but she smiled and said, “We’ll make it work.” And she would, too. She’d noticed a metal cabinet down in the studio. It would make do for a pantry, but if Darrin needed it for art supplies, she’d find something like it at a garage sale. And a rolling butcher-block cabinet would give her more workspace. She could pick up a used one. She’d make it work. It would take a while and some expense was involved, but she’d make it work, damn it! “Show me the bathroom.”

He shrugged. “It’s a tub, sink, and toilet,” he said and pointed her in the right direction.

He didn’t exaggerate this time. That’s exactly what the bathroom was: a tub, sink, and toilet. That’s all. No linen closet, no counter, no shower, and the floor was ... she couldn’t decide what made up the floor. It was too dirty to make an informed judgment. “Do we have hot water?” she asked.

“Yes. When I asked, the real estate agent said there was a hot water heater. I checked, and it didn’t work, so the lease called for a new water heater. They were supposed to put it in while I was gone.”

She stepped to the sink and turned on the hot water faucet. Brown water gurgled out, but soon cleared. She waited, slipping her fingers under the water from time to time, but the water didn’t get any warmer. She turned on the faucet marked cold to check the possibility the faucets were mixed. No hot water. “You’ll need to call the landlord, Darrin.”

“Shit! They promised. Come on, I’ll show you the other two rooms. You pick one for your bedroom, and I’ll take the other. There’s a Seven-Eleven at the corner with a pay phone. I’ll call the landlord from there.”

“Uh-uh. You pick. I’m the guest.” Accordingly, she selected the smaller room, the one without a window.

While he was out making the call to the landlord, she pulled up the corner of the plastic covering his furniture and noted a ratty sofa, a small kitchen table and two chairs, a lamp, a mattress and bedsprings, and a few odds and ends. One bed, she noted. Interesting. Maybe he expects me to sleep on the sofa tonight. No way. Darrin was a big man, and the mattress appeared to be king-sized. She’d sleep with him tonight. She smiled. Something good had surfaced amidst the disaster.

Where to start? His bedroom, she decided. He had pulled his car inside the studio, which boasted an overhead door. She found the cleaning stuff she’d packed in the car, filled a bucket with soap and cold water in the industrial sink in the studio, and trudged back upstairs.

After he returned from making his call, they worked together and made progress, but it was slow. Two hours later, they set up his bed in his room. “We’ll need to find a bed for you,” he said, finally realizing she had no place to sleep.

“Yeah, but later. I’ll camp out with you tonight. That’s a big bed, bro, and I don’t take up much space.”

His eyes widened. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Hah! You’re too tall. You won’t fit. Besides, I trust you.” I don’t trust myself, but I trust you, bro.

“We’ll see,” he said, obviously uncomfortable with her suggestion.

“I’ll do the bathroom next. There’s not room for both of us in there. Why don’t you work on your studio?”