Mouse Bk. 05 Ch. 03

Adriana Chechik

Book 5: Mouse’s Rival

Chapter 3

Melanie felt awful. Her stomach hurt. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt.

And her soul hurt.

In the stabbing light of the morning, it was all so obviously wrong. It was incest. It was repugnant and repulsive. The thought of it made her sick. In fact, she thought she might physically be sick. Again. She’d already completely, uncontrollably purged everything from her stomach, food, the alcohol, Michael’s gift, everything. But she still felt physically ill.

She at least had the presence of mind to be embarrassed by the racket she was making, as she heaved, until she later discovered that Michael had already left. He himself had had the self control and the good grace to awaken, dress, and silently retreat from the house, leaving Melanie alone to face herself.

Now, today, Melanie felt as badly as she had the morning after losing her virginity. That was supposed to have been a night of romance and passion, with a perfect enough guy, followed by a morning of breakfast and companionship.

It was a painful disaster.

She was hardly silly enough to hold out for “the one,” but it should have been better than choosing the first guy at a frat party to make a grab for her tits. She’d gotten drunk, lost control, and dove in far too quickly and easily. She didn’t remember it clearly, but she knows she never remotely protested.

That next day, in the painful morning light, she’d woken up in her dorm with a hangover. Her roommate was out. She didn’t know how she’d gotten home. She didn’t remember that part. Her head had hurt, her stomach had hurt, her heart had hurt and her soul had hurt.

There was no one there with her, no one to share the morning after, no companionship, only a gaping loneliness and a sense of loss, a feeling that she’d done something irrevocable, that she’d let something go that could never come back.

Meanwhile, her own memories of sex were dirty. Sex was all fluids and smells. It was saliva and cum, her cum, his cum, and other unclean things. It wasn’t romantic. Apart from the feelings in the heat of the moment, it was foul.

If it weren’t for the overpowering urges and powerful sensations, no one would ever do it.

Melanie smiled sourly at her silliness then. That attitude hadn’t lasted long.

She wondered briefly if, twenty years from now, she’d be smiling again at this sad memory.

* * *

Melanie had dressed primly. Feeling physically, if not emotionally, better, she sat upright at the kitchen table. To confirm, or assuage, her guilt, Melanie did what she always did. She made a list.

     Tried, and failed, to seduce a strange, young woman.

     Cheated on husband.

     Made brother cheat on his lover.

     Raped a man.

     Committed incest.

     Raped my brother.

Then she added one more item.

     Loved it.

So that was it. Short, simple, organized.

It was no surprise that making the list didn’t change her mood at all.

As a last recourse, trying to shake the burden of her guilt and sorrow, Melanie did the same thing she’d done the morning after ignominiously and embarrassingly losing her virginity.

She put her head in her hands and cried.

* * *

He should feel hungover, but he didn’t. He was in pain, but it was hard to separate the physical after effects of his drinking from the reaction he had to what had happened.

Michael drove past Melanie’s house for the third time. He wanted desperately to talk to her. He wanted to talk to Mouse. They seemed to be the only two people in the world he had left to talk to about something like this. And he couldn’t talk to either of them, about this. He couldn’t talk to anyone about this.

Each time he repeated that line of thinking, it made him that much more angry at Melanie. He pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, a short, sharp thrust intended to break something, somewhere. It hurt, for a moment.

She’d violated him in ways she couldn’t even imagine, but worst of all was by taking herself away from him as a friend. She took herself away from him as his big sister, the friend he could go to with his troubles.

That wasn’t fair, he thought, making a half hearted effort to calm himself. There were a lot of things he had never told Melanie. He’d certainly never told her about Mouse, or talked to her about Mouse, until Mouse herself got things started.

But she was a confidant, now. She was his big sister, more now, since his forbidden relationship with Mouse, than ever before. And because of that, he needed her now more than ever before. He’d never realized how much he needed his big sister.

She was his friend. She was one of very, very few people in the world that he trusted to look out for him. She’d helped him so much through his failing marriage, and painful divorce. She was one of the few people that made Michael feel less alone against the world, and more secure.

She’d destroyed that in a single, drunken night.

Be Escort bayan honest, he thought, be fair. He was just deflecting. He felt guilty himself, so he was looking for ways to make Melanie into the villain. He’d enjoyed it. He didn’t ask for it, he had protested, feebly, but he could have done more. He had enjoyed it far more than he wanted to admit.

The foggy memory of her mouth on his cock suddenly, unexpectedly excited him.

Melanie was the villain. Or, at least, he wasn’t as evil as she.

Michael took a right turn, heading toward the park in Melanie’s neighborhood, the one where he used to meet his nephews for pick up basketball games. He wished he had a ball in the car, to work off his frustrations. He was relieved that Melanie’s sons couldn’t possibly be there, that they were away from home. Seeing them would be awkward.

What had gotten into Melanie?

Michael parked beside the chain link fence. The court baked quite innocently in the sun on the other side, just out of reach.

He tried to slow his racing thoughts. He tried to calm himself by picturing Mouse’s face, smiling cutely, adoringly up at him with that look that only she had. It made him feel strong and wanted and special. It made him feel both loving and loved.

When he closed his eyes, he could feel Melanie’s hot, feverish mouth descending smoothly and unstoppably down onto his cock, as her cool, soft, fleshy breasts pressed into his thigh. He felt it all as if he were still there. His cock, embarrassingly, came instantly to life at the memory.

It was calling him a hypocrite.

Melanie was too much of a woman, to Michael. She always had been. Mouse was cute, and vibrant, and young. She was feminine and irresistible, in a girlish, vigorous, youthful way. She was his perfect girl.

Melanie was feminine, too, and so beautiful to Michael, but she was a woman, not a girl. Melanie was the epitome of a woman to Michael, strong, curvaceous, calm, reserved, and always, always attractive. She didn’t have perfect features or hair, or even a perfect body. She had a pleasing face, with a well defined chin and cheeks and intelligent eyes and soft enough looking lips, and a constant, unflappable air of femininity, all continually drawing his eyes away from her very shapely woman’s body.

Sex with Melanie would be so good, Michael had always imagined. She was a woman that could easily please him, and that he would give anything to please as well. It could never be, but if it was, it would be good.

And it had been good. And he had pleased her, immensely, or so it seemed.

His heel hit the steering wheel again. He was so fucking angry with her.

He shouldn’t have enjoyed it. She shouldn’t have put him in this position.

The anger welled up again. If she had tried to seduce him, if he weren’t drunk, if he weren’t chained, if he’d been given a choice, he knew he would have refused. He might have hurt her with his rebuttal, but he would have rejected her, he was sure of it. The fact that he enjoyed it, when forced, when raped, didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t his choice.

Where had it come from? She’d given him no clue. She’d never come onto him in any way. If anything, she touched him less, or when she did it was more sisterly. She’d never betrayed her lust with any expression, any lingering glance, any comment or hint of interest. If she had, he could have rebuffed her, and it might never have happened.

Even when she’d watched him with Mouse, when he’d entertained the idea of ravishing and being pleasured by both of his sisters at once, as Mouse’s cock worked artfully and delicately on his cock, even as Melanie had watched and Michael had silently urged her to join them, she hadn’t budged, or even shown a sign that she would ever do so.

What had made her do it?

He had to talk to her. He knew he had to talk to her. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He had to talk to Mouse. He couldn’t bring himself to do that either. He couldn’t imagine ever telling her what had happened. He hoped to god that Melanie never did.

Michael lurched the car angrily back onto the street. Now he was an only child. He had no sisters, no siblings. He had one true love that could never really be. He had another woman, a life long friend, and ex-sister, lusting after him, and teasing him by reminding him of his own forbidden, if transient, lust for her.

He had problems.

* * *

“Wow, Mel, you sound awful. How long did that party last?”

Mouse’s tone of voice was annoyingly alert and happy.

“Late. And I couldn’t sleep.”

“You sound upset. Is everything okay?”

Mel tried not to hesitate, but did.

“Yes. Fine.”

“Okay, that was the lamest ‚Äòfine’ I’ve ever heard. Come on. Let me help. What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about you and Michael.”

“I don’t want to discuss that again. Leave it alone. I think he should date other people. I think I should. I don’t want to end it. I won’t leave Bayan escort him, I won’t hurt him. But I think we have to be realistic.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Mel was glad that Mona had immediately started a fight. Mouse’s anger angered Melanie. Anger was good. It subdued the guilt.

“Listen for a moment, before you talk, Mona.”

She had started to call her Little again. She’d cut it off. It felt wrong.

Melanie allowed a long pause, to be certain that Mona was listening, before she continued.

“Did you, after the first time with Michael, did you feel guilty about it? About what you’d done?”


She’d said it without the slightest hesitation, almost before Melanie had finished speaking.

“Not at all?”


“But you’d just fucked your own brother. It was illegal, immoral. It had to be hard to do. You must have been having doubts while you did it.”


“Mona, be honest.”

“I am being honest! I’d spent my whole life making him feel miserable. He was miserable. I gave him one night, what I thought would only be one night, of incredible joy and pleasure. I finally made my brother feel good, and you think I should have felt guilty?”

“No, Mona, no, that’s not it. I’m not saying you should have felt guilty. I just want to understand. And I don’t. I don’t see how you couldn’t feel guilty about it, or worried about him, worried that you’d fucked him up or driven him further away.”

“Did I?”

Melanie didn’t answer. She wanted to say yes, out of spite, because she was sure that that was what she herself had done. But she’d been admitting for quite a while now that they were good for each other, that Mouse was good for Michael. She couldn’t push this very far.

“No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“It just never felt entirely like incest to me. No, that’s not right. It just didn’t feel like everyone says incest is supposed to feel. It felt wicked, but it felt very, very right. Look, how did you feel to you, with us, after you and I…?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“It just wasn’t. You’re not a guy. It was just, I don’t know, it was just fun. It was harmless.”

“So why are Michael and I different?”

Melanie hesitated.

“I don’t know. He’s a guy. I can’t explain it. It just seems different.”

“Look, Mel, stop beating around the bush. What’s bugging you?”

“When are you coming to see him?”

“Okay, that’s twice in twelve hours that you asked that. Soon. Next weekend. Tomorrow. Why?”

“He just needs you. But maybe not that soon.”

Mel froze. She hoped that sounded casual enough. The last thing she needed was to have Mouse back before she could talk to Michael. She was a fool to bring it up.

She was a mess. This whole conversation was a mistake. She should have waited. She shouldn’t have been so damned needy. It was another mistake to add to the growing list.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m really hung over. I shouldn’t have called.”

“You’ve been drinking too much, lately, Mel.”

“I have not. Don’t mother me. Little.”

Melanie inhaled deeply, once, trying to suck that last word back into her mouth.

“I’m sorry. I really am hung over. My head aches. I way over did it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should try to tone it down a little.”

Or a lot.

Before Mouse could accept the apology, Melanie raced to end the awkward conversation.

“I have to go. I’ll call you later. Don’t call Michael. He looked more hung over than I feel.”

“Michael? He barely drinks.”

“He did last night. He had to spend the night here, in Doug’s room. I wouldn’t let him drive home. I’m sure by now he’s sleeping again. In his own bed.”

Okay, that was even more awkward. She had to end this call before she really blew it.

“Okay,” Mouse said, making it easy on her. “I’m really busy all weekend anyway. The girls have plans, and I got another order for a custom wedding gown. That little experiment is turning into a lucrative business on the side.”

“Good, good, I’m glad. Look, I’ll call you, later, too. When the hangover is gone.”

“Okay. Later.”


* * *

“Hey, honey. Mel said you’re pretty fucked up.”

Mouse grimaced at the ensuing silence. She was getting tired of all of these long, unexpected pauses in phone conversations.

“She said that.”

“Yes. You two apparently decided to drink like college kids again. She said you were badly hung over. You want me to call back another time?”

“No, no, it’s good to hear your voice. It makes me feel better.”

“That’s sweet. She told me not to call, but I had to.”

“She said that.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“Yeah, well, it was a weird party.”

“She said there were a lot of women there. Did you meet anyone? Anyone cute?”

“Mouse, stop.”

“I’m just asking.”

“And you know damn well that if I had I’d be as embarrassed as hell to talk to you about it.”

“Yes, and Escort instead you just got mad, and you told me to shut up right away, so I know you didn’t meet anyone, and you’re still all mine.”

And there it was, another fucking, long pause.

“If you’re staying silent just to get a rise out of me, Michael, dear, it’s working. I’m now officially jealous. Your sweet little sister loves you, and she wants to kiss you and hold you and do dirty things to you. Okay? You made me say it. Your sister wants to fuck you. Or rather, she wants you to fuck her. Hard.”

“I know, Mouse. Look, I love you. Okay? I do, I honestly do. I love you. I don’t say it enough. I love you.”

“And you can’t live without me and you don’t even notice all of the other women on the planet because visions of me fill your every waking moment.”


“And you’re getting horny just talking to me, and you want me to fly out there right now.”

During this next uncomfortable silence, Mouse told herself that if there was one more moment like this one, she was going to fly home and bash both Michael and Melanie in the heads.

“Mouse, I’m really not feeling well. I’m out trying to do things, run some errands, and I think it was a mistake. I need to head home and lie down.”

“Yeah, Mel thought you’d be home, sleeping. What do you have to do on a Sunday morning, anyway, with a hangover?”

“Just things.”

“Okay, shit head. If you don’t want to talk, fine. I’m going to my room, to think about you, and touch myself. Okay?”

She could hear him smiling this time. This silence was okay, as long as it was because he was smiling.

“Okay. You do that. If I feel better, later, I may do the same.”

“You better. And call me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He hated going to bars alone, but it seemed like the best way to kill some time out of the house, away from any chance of being cornered by Melanie. He damn well hoped she was looking for him. He didn’t want to be found, but she better fucking well be trying.

Michael wandered in feeling conspicuous and self conscious. He picked a dark corner of the bar without a soul around, then plopped onto a stool to wait for the bartender to notice him. She was all the way across the bar, with her back to him, washing glasses and laughing with three guys drinking beers.

She was a tiny blond number with quite a cute little ass, all bundled up in a very tight pair of faded jeans.

She had a powerful laugh, too. Even with her back to him he could hear it. It was musical, like Mouse’s. The bartender tossed her head back for another full bodied laugh, and Michael felt his sullen mood lift just a bit.

One of the men nodded his way, so the bartender turned quickly, finally noticing him.

It was Kate, from the party. That abrupt, unexpected reminder soured his mood right away.

She strode over to him, with a delicate but quick little glide, smiling all the way.


She remembered him. That made Michael feel good, too. He’d noticed her at the party, and purposely tried to stay away from her. That wasn’t too hard, since Mel had pretty much monopolized the girl’s time. Michael had instead wasted the evening covertly watching the two attractive women together.

Kate was staring at him expectantly, as Michael realized he hadn’t yet replied.

“Hi. Do you remember me?”

Kate’s smile widened. It was warm, disarming, and inviting.

“Of course I do. There weren’t a lot of attractive men at that party.”

She looked down and blushed a bit, as if she hadn’t intended to say that, which saved Michael from letting her see the same embarrassment broadcast on his own face. She recovered fast enough, though.

“What would you like?”

“Just a beer. Something imported. Surprise me.”

“Coming right up,” she said, quickly becoming the efficient bartender.

* * *

The bar was busy, so Kate didn’t talk to him much, but she did some. She asked a lot of questions about him, and Mel, too. She seemed interested in everything, and was definitely flirting. At first, Michael had enjoyed the attention. She was a warm, open, lively person.

She made him think of Mouse.

That made him feel guilty. He felt bad about opening up to another woman, and worse yet for feeling an attraction to her. It also made him miss Mouse that much more. Michael was grateful whenever Kate scurried off to tend to another customer, or at least when she turned the conversation toward Mel. He didn’t quite understand the line of questioning. She had an unusually keen interest in Mel.

It was as if Kate had a hidden agenda with her. It was like she was being considered as a roommate, or a business partner.

He had no idea what it could be, and he didn’t really care. It just made him feel less uncomfortable when Kate was interrogating him about his big sister, instead of locking her pretty green eyes on his and showing a disconcerting interest in him.

It felt good, but it felt bad.

After a while, when Kate was at the other end of the bar serving another customer, Michael left some bills, including a very large tip, and quickly and inconspicuously spirited himself out the door and into the clear, lonely, night air.

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