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He stopped us and faced me. Without saying a word he grabbed the bottom of my blouse and camisole, pulling them up and over my head. He then undid the button of my shorts and slid his thumbs to the sides. He grabbed the material of my shorts and the top of my panties and lowered them down past my bottom, letting them drop to the floor. I stood there exposed to my brother. I didn’t try and cover up or hide. I stood there and just looked at his face. Steven quickly took off his tee-shirt and dropped his shorts. He was completely naked and exposed to me. I grabbed both of Steven’s hands and we stepped toward each other. I rose up on my toes and kissed his lips softly. I could feel my breasts brushing against his chest and his penis pressing against my lower stomach. The daze I had experienced earlier when we kissed was back. The confusion of right and wrong was back. My breath was gone and my heart was racing. Racing is really an understatement. My heart was pounding. I could feel. By the third, he knew he should have gone to Houston. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ blared from the speakers, accompanied by a chorus of drunken soldiers as he headed for the door. The night air was much better than the close confines of the bar. He was thinking he’d ride awhile when, abruptly, he headed for the tattoo parlor. A wind chime jingled as he opened the screen door and he heard the buzzing of a tattoo in progress. A young woman, oriental, looked up from where she was working on a soldier’s shoulder and regarded him quietly. He stopped in his tracks as the brown eyes held him, knowing he’d seen that look somewhere before. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked in a soft voice. ‘I’m fine,’ He replied, and went to look at the designs covering the walls of the waiting area. She went back to her work. The usual designs were there, eagles, panthers, bulldogs, roses, skulls and daggers, Pink Panthers, Tasmanian devils. He grabbed a book off the table and sat on the couch. A second book though, smaller.
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