Confronting My Sister

Olive’s pen moves across the page, confessing how empty every family dinner has felt. She shuts the book, strips, and slides onto the massage table, heart pounding. Serena steps in expecting another client and finds bare skin instead. Hands glide across Olive’s back before the sheet shifts and her sister’s grin appears. Panic flashes across Serena’s face, but Olive’s low voice promises just a massage, just closeness, nothing more. Oil warms under Serena’s palms. Tension knots in Olive’s shoulders and Serena’s fingers press deep, coaxing soft sighs that slip out without permission. When she reaches the swell of Olive’s ass, the moans deepen, raw and shameless. Olive flips, eyes half-lidded, thighs parting. Serena’s touch drifts higher. Olive’s hips rise, damp curls glistening. The air thickens. Olive whispers they should stop pretending. Serena protests, yet each reason lands softly against her resolve. She glances at the locked door, then at her sister’s flushed body. With a quiet exhale she leans in, lips brushing the inside of Olive’s thigh, keeping every secret promise between them.