By Cassie
The week went terribly slowly, and Justine’s distraction made her less then popular at work but, on Saturday morning, as she showered and laid out some fresh clothes, she couldn’t deny how excited she was at the prospect of seeing Kelly — this easy-going, happy-go-lucky girl who could unlock the secrets of Justine’s long lost family.
Snapping out of another daydream, Justine looked at the clothes on her bed and decided on something sober for the meeting. Almost business-like. So she chose to wear a shortish plain skirt, her just-heeled black shoes and a white blouse.
She studied herself in the mirror and groaned. I look like I’m dressed for an interview!
Ditching the blouse, she picked out a simple red top with overly long sleeves that she liked to pull over her hands and grip in her palms. Then she unbound her long strawberry-red hair, clipping only the most unruly locks behind her head. She smiled at the image staring back at her. Much better. At least then, Kelly wouldn’t think there was some kind of business proposition in the works.
Resisting the urge for a large coffee before she left, Justine set the sat-nav in her car and began the drive along the southern English coast to Ashford. She passed through ancient Lewes and historic Hastings, then through the pretty town of Rye before branching inland to make her way into Ashford. The two women had agreed to meet in the town centre, at a coffee shop near a major car park.
As Justine settled her car into a space at the designated parking lot, she stopped and spent a few minutes trying to calm her nerves. She was, in fact, less nervous than she expected to be. It was as though the stage fright had suddenly evaporated and she was ready to face her audience. She checked her make-up in the mirror: a little lipstick, some eyeliner and a hint of green eye shadow. Not too much, just something to make her presentable. She got out and went down the steps through the exit, and onto the street.
She walked up the road a little way, eventually spying the Italian coffee place they’d agreed to meet at. She checked her watch. She was precisely five minutes late. So it was with that thought; the notion that after all this, the impeccably professional Justine Holloway was late for one of the most important meetings of her life, that she walked into the shop somewhat distracted. She didn’t even notice the other woman in the bar until Kelly Bracken turned her head to see who had arrived.
It was at that moment that Kelly’s face lit up, and Justine’s heart almost stopped.
Because the woman who Justine had come to visit, the woman who had replied to her about her mysterious birth parents Walter and Mary Jackson, the woman who did not share her own surname, or profess to any knowledge of “Amanda,” beyond the possession of a small copper bracelet with that name inscribed upon it, was Justine Holloway’s virtual double. Her doppelganger. In fact, her identical twin sister.
*****
Justine could not speak. Her throat was literally contracting, almost choking her as she stared, stared, stared at the smiling woman rising up to greet her. It was like seeing a perverse mirror video as she drank in the image of Kelly Bracken — the long, curly red hair, the small, freckled nose, the slim form, the green eyes, even the shape of her mouth, now curling into a wide grin. Each of those things were part and parcel of Justine’s own features.
My God, she kept thinking to herself. My God. My God!
Her heart skipped several beats and she suddenly felt dizzy. She reached out for support but fumbled on the top of a nearby chair and began to feel her knees tremble, her legs fail. Fat, bright stars filled her vision and she felt close to collapse when two arms reached out to hold her upright.
“Are you okay?” said Kelly, stepping in close to put her arms around Justine.
Justine gazed up at her as though she were dazed or intoxicated, and then looked away. Her face had gone very pale and her legs had lost all their strength. Kelly helped Justine into the chair she’d been trying to grab hold of, then sat opposite her, holding the other woman’s hand.
Justine was aware of Kelly Bracken holding her hand, squeezing it gently while the soft, slightly coarse voice of the other woman asked her if she was all right. Justine was aware of sitting, feeling dizzy and light-headed, and being faintly embarrassed by it all, but was most aware of the touch and feel of the other woman’s hand on her own. In some strange way, the touch of Kelly’s skin on hers had a bizarre, rippling effect, as though there were a mild surge of electricity passing between them. Justine was also aware that her heart was beating very fast, and she was perilously close to fainting.
Kelly sat, holding the other woman’s hand for a few minutes, hoping that Justine Holloway — who looked so like her, as if she’d spied on Kelly to copy her every feature — would not collapse or be sick on her.
Eventually, Justine took a deep breath and sat up, focusing her eyes on Kelly, staring at her with an almost apologetic frown.
“How can you be—?” she said, but seemed unable to finish the question.
Kelly waited patiently while the other woman shook her head to gather her thoughts, only faintly aware that she was still holding the other woman’s hand, and how comfortable it felt to do so.
Eventually, after pinching the bridge of her nose while she kept her eyes shut to concentrate, Justine sighed. “I came here to ask about Mary and Walter Jackson,” she said, her words low and deliberate. “I came because I found out I was adopted, and the only thing I knew about my parents were their names, and a daughter they had called Amanda.”
Justine took a few deep breaths, still unable to meet Kelly Bracken’s eyes.
“When you said that you had a bracelet with ‘Amanda’ inscribed on it, I thought perhaps that you could help me find out who my family were. Who Amanda was. Your surname—”
“Bracken,” Kelly said, interrupting.
“I assumed that you had nothing to do with them. Nothing to do with me, certainly. I never once thought you could be my—my—”
“Bracken’s my married name,” said Kelly. “My maiden name was Jackson, like Mum and Dad. I never knew about no sister. They never told me.”
It was as Kelly mentioned the word “sister” that Justine finally looked up and studied the woman sitting so close to her, holding her hand. The two young women stared at each other for long minutes, Kelly smiling at the unexpected face of the woman so similar, to identical to her own; Justine searching Kelly’s identical features, hardly daring to believe that the sister she had so longed about was finally in front of her.
It was an almost involuntary motion that prompted Justine to raise her free hand a reach out to touch the face of her long lost sister. While not flinching, Kelly did stiffen a little as the other woman’s hand reached out. She felt Justine’s soft, warm fingertips touch her cheek in a very gentle, hesitant way. And she still did not move as she let the other woman place a warm palm against the side of her face. In fact, she felt her eyelids begin to close involuntarily at the touch of the other woman. There was something strangely calming and comforting about Justine’s touch, and Kelly found herself responding to it.
It was, eventually, Justine who broke the quiet reverie, by removing her hand and taking another of her customary deep breaths. “I can barely believe you’re real,” she said.
Kelly smiled. “I never knew you even existed.”
“So you knew Mary and Walter? My birth parents?”
“Our mum and dad, you mean?” Kelly laughed.
Justine smiled in return. “I suppose. It’s hard trying to think of them like that, though. There’s so much I don’t know!”
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” said Kelly.
“But you will, though?” said Justine, a hint of desperation in her voice. She found that she was gripping her twin sister’s hand as she said it. “You’ll tell me all about them, won’t you? All about them, you and everything?”
Kelly giggled and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“And — and you’re married?” Justine said, wondering at the sudden distaste she had at the thought of her new sister having a husband.
At this, Kelly looked away and smiled sadly. She didn’t speak for a few moments, and Justine had a sudden urge to pull the other woman into an embrace.
“I was,” Kelly said, eventually. The silence extended for a long moment. “Widowed now.”
“I’m sorry,” Justine said and, strangely, both meant it and found comfort at the thought. “I hardly know what to say, where to start.”
“You could start by telling me all about you,” Kelly said, looking up and smiling into the eyes of her new-found sister.
The two women sat for over two hours in that little shop, watching at least two rounds of coffee come and go as they laughed, smiled, and talked to each other. Their hands hardly parted during this time, and it was only when the barman asked if they wanted the dinner menu that the two women noticed the time and agreed to go.
Kelly offered to host Justine for dinner — but reluctantly, very reluctantly, Justine declined. She had to get back home to Brighton.
*****
When Justine arrived home, it was with a mixture of both relief and regret. As an essentially individual person, she was pleased to be back in her own space once more. But the further she got from Kelly, this new and wonderful surprise in her life, the more she missed her.
If someone had asked Justine to explain it, she would not have been able to put it into words. She felt a desperate need to be close to Kelly; to make sure the Kent girl was not just a dream, to make sure no one would take her away after all these years of being alone. And the truth was that Justine couldn’t explain how she felt when Kelly touched her, or smiled at her. There was the same sensual frisson she got from being on a date, from the wonderful, heavy anticipation before sex.
Despite these stirrings, Justine assured herself that she didn’t have sexual feelings for Kelly. It was wrong to have such feelings. Wrong on two levels. She shouldn’t because Kelly was most definitely her sister—her twin, for goodness’ sake! And it was wrong because even if Kelly had been her type, and was everything she wanted in a romantic partner, love just didn’t strike that quickly. Not for Justine, anyhow. It wasn’t possible.
But thoughts of Kelly continued to prey on Justine’s mind. Every time she closed her eyes, there was her sister — smiling, biting the corner of her bottom lip, frowning with worry when Justine nearly broke down. She felt the touch of Kelly’s hand on her arm as the newfound sister tried to console her. She smelt the perfume of the Kent girl It was intoxicating. The whole experience almost seemed like some deep, deep rush from a powerful drug.
After making herself a light dinner, then ignoring it, Justine fired up her computer and checked her mail. Sifting through the usual, she hit the “compose” button and wrote a short note to her Portuguese friend Jan.
Hi Jan. Hope everything has been okay. Life has taken a huge turn for me. A huge turn. Two wonderful things have happened. I’ve tracked down my remaining family — my birth family, remember? That was incredible enough, but when I went to meet the woman who knew about this, I had an even bigger shock. She was my twin, Jan. My absolute twin! I have no doubt that we’re sisters.
I can hardly believe it. It’s an amazing thing. Too wired to explain it all fully.
Will write again soon, Justine
She hit the “send” button and carried on surfing her mail. She had just logged into Jan’s SIL site, when an e-mail popped up from Jan herself.
Hi Justine. Lovely to hear from you. Do you have a webcam?
Attached to the e-mail was a link. Justine, feeling another flush of excitement, adjusted the webcam on the top of her computer screen and activated the live chat. Jan’s face appeared in a small window on the top right part of Justine’s screen.
She smiled and waved at her new friend. “Hi, Jan! Don’t use this webcam much, but it’s great to see you. You look fantastic!”
Jan smiled back, her dark features settling into the middle of the mini-screen. “Hi, Justine. Thank you. I have a beautiful view of your left ear. It’s a very pretty ear….”
Justine flushed red with embarrassment, then squared the webcam so that it pointed in her direction.
“Sorry. Is that any better?”
“It’s fine, but I was enjoying the close-up of your ear. Maybe next time you can show me the other one.”
Justine smiled. “Har, har. I knew I couldn’t get through a chat without you teasing me. Didn’t think it would happen so soon.”
Jan shrugged, feigning ignorance. “What can I say? I have a thing for left ears.”
“What did you think of my news?” said Justine, eager to hear her friend’s advice.
Jan smiled — a little sadly, Justine thought. “Is it really your sister?” she asked, as though questioning Justine’s news.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let me put it like this. Have you slept well since you got back to England?”
“Slept well? What on earth has that got to do with it?”
Jan’s face fell a little. “I am worried about you, Justine, my friend. When you left Portugal, you seemed like something new and wonderful had happened, but I am worried that it had become too much.”
Justine sighed. Jan thought she was making it all up.
Of course she would think that, Justine reflected later. How much of an extraordinary coincidence it must seem to Jan that this English woman, who had only just experimented with lesbian sex, who was looking for a long-lost sister, and who had found out about the Sisters in Love site then suddenly then “discovered” her long lost sibling? It was the stuff of fantasy, of pure imaginative creation.
But at the time, Justine was too angry to think about that. She did not have the energy, the concentration for that kind of reflection. So she bit back at Jan, first asking her what the hell she meant, then attacking her for being petty and not wanting Justine to have any real happiness, then accusing Jan of being jealous, and that was why she hadn’t taken advantage of Justine’s offer to sleep with her back in Portugal.
Jan, for her part, was incredibly patient, listening to Justine’s rant and trying to calm the other woman down. Eventually, Jan suggested they talk again some other day, as she was tired.
Justine cut the communication immediately, hot with anger. She fumed for a few moments in front of her computer, just as she’d done a few weeks earlier, when confronted with the evidence of David’s infidelity. Finally, her anger spent, she slumped and began to cry. How had her life gone from being so… so… stable, to being this awful roller coaster where even being angry with a new acquaintance would make her upset?
Justine left her computer and sold herself to a bottle of red wine, before going clumsily to bed. And when she slept, she fell into a deep dream.
*****
Justine was running, and running scared. Somehow it was all her fault, but that didn’t stop her being afraid, or help in any way. The rooms of the house were dark and had many shadows in them, but it was the girl coming behind her that frightened Justine the most. Justine knew the girl wanted to hurt her, and knew she had to get away. But her feet felt like blocks of ice, and her heart was pumping too hard. She was back in her old school uniform, inelegant and dowdy. Her long, curly red hair was plastered around her face and she was sweating so freely that the blouse on her back was damp with her exertions.
She ran toward a door — but it wouldn’t open. In desperation she tugged at the handle, crying and pleading with the door to open, but it held fast. She had the sense of everything behind her contracting, closing in on her somehow, and felt her throat begin to tighten. She shivered, slumping against the floor as the world closed in, no longer able to cry. Unable to breathe. She crumpled against the hard floor.
Shadows, dark shadows all around her. She—
Justine woke up abruptly, her heart pounding. The echo of a shout — her own cry — coming back to her. She thought about getting up; drinking some water or something similar, then felt strangely frightened and alone. She didn’t want to leave the bed.
Eventually, and in a fairly short space of time, she fell back into sleep.
Justine weaved through the people at her college party; trying to find a way out. It was hot, and busy, and Justine didn’t want to face her. She sent upstairs but when she got to the bedroom door, the other girl was waiting there for her.
“Bitch.”
Justine turned around, ready to bite back — but Pip looked both angry and upset, and Justine knew it was her fault. She eventually just hung her head and muttered, “Sorry.”
The slap, when it came, was both unexpected and painful. Justine raised a hand protectively to the left side of her face, feeling the pain of the blow Pip had just given her.
“Sorry?” shouted Pip, her woollen doll’s features contorted in anger. “Sorry? Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, you sly, two-faced bitch. I should slap the hell out of you for what you’ve done!”
Justine wanted to argue, but had no strength for it. She didn’t know what she’d done, but knew somehow that she was at fault, and could not gainsay her childhood playmate.
“Sit down,” said Pip, her arms crossed over her flat doll’s chest. “I said, sit down!” she shouted. Justine did so, feeling tears well up.
“Oh, you can cry all right!” said Pip, leaning down and lifting Justine’s chin with surprising gentleness. “You might as well get started sooner rather than later, two-faced bitch.”
Pip slapped her again, and Justine felt the hot sting. Then came another slap, to her right cheek, and another to her left.
“Please!” she pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Pip was undressing in front of her, taking off her stitched clothes to reveal a gaunt doll’s frame underneath. Her face was a mixture of anger and something else, some other passionate, animal emotion. Justine was very scared of her, but could not move.
“Hurting you is the only way to make you pay,” said Pip, leaning down and slapping Justine’s face once more. “Take your clothes off.”
Justine shook her head. My God, was Pip going to rape her? What could she do? Pip was her oldest, closest companion. She couldn’t say no to her, could never refuse her, even if Pip threatened violence. Some things Justine knew she could not deny.
“Just like you can’t deny you deserve this!” said Pip, her lips trembling.
With a breaking heart, Justine peeled off her clothes. Once she was naked, Pip ordered her to kneel on the floor. She obeyed, then Pip stood behind her and began to spank Justine from behind, delivering hard, cruel strokes against her friend’s bare buttocks.
“Please, please stop,” said Justine, aware of the heat and pain as Pip delivered each stinging blow. “Please don’t.”
“Faithless bitch.”
“Please stop!” said Justine, as the two hurtled down the highway at car-crash speed. “I don’t want to die. Pip, stop it, please.”
The car ate and ate up the road without ever seeming to end. Justine thought she was going to die at any mo—
When she awakened, it was with a jolt and a lurch inside her chest. And God help her, the first thing she thought about was Kelly, her newly discovered, beautiful twin sister. Justine would have given anything to have held Kelly at that moment. She somehow needed to feel that contact with her twin; that reassurance that Kelly was there and wasn’t going to go away. Holding her sister would take away the nightmares, of that she was certain. Holding Kelly would make everything all right.
It was only as an afterthought, as she sank once more into a deep and formless sleep, that Justine remembered how she used to feel that way about her doll, Pip.
*****
The following week was a roller coaster that twisted, turned, sped up and braked hard, all according to the whim of Justine’s emotions. She’d seldom been on to let her feelings run away with her. She was a methodical, professional woman, and needed her to be that for her job. So, with a desperate act of will, she tried to purge thoughts of Kelly from her mind while she was at work.
But even she couldn’t deny that the one thing keeping her going was the thought of sharing a phone call or an e-chat with her new sister during the evening. They’d arranged to meet up again the following Saturday. Kelly promised Justine a day’s outing to Dover, her favourite town.
By the time Friday evening came around, Justine was in a state of high excitement. She’d promised herself — like a child vowing not to open the presents before their parents woke up on Christmas day — that she wouldn’t call or e-mail Kelly. The only communication she allowed herself to send was a single text, confirming that they would be meeting up for the day.
Kelly’s reply thrilled every excited fibre of Justine’s being.
Can’t wait! So looking forward to seeing you! Lotsa luv, K xxx
Justine spent the evening cooking herself a small pasta dish, which she enjoyed with a couple of bottles of beer. She followed that with a long, leisurely bath, then sat down at her computer.
She’d decided to try and make amends with her Portuguese friend Jan, feeling regretful about the set-to they’d had. Dressed loosely in her satin bathrobe with nothing underneath, she sat down and fired up the computer. She checked her e-mail — nothing from Kelly, but nothing from David either, so that cancelled things out, she supposed. Justine got rid of the obligatory spam, then logged on to Sisters in Love.
She checked the “What’s New” page and clicked on the testimonial of a new author who Jan had published on the site. This girl was telling the story of her secret love for her sister, and had described the sequence of events in very graphic detail.
As she read the story, Justine started to feel herself getting very aroused. The hot bath she’d had, the oils she’d used, and the soft, silken feel of the bathrobe against her skin all seemed to heighten her desire. With only the mildest pang of self-consciousness, she undid the loose knot at the front of her robe and relaxed back into the computer chair.
Letting the robe slip to her sides, she began to trace her fingers up and down the insides of her thighs. She looked down briefly at the patch of red pubic hair between her legs and, in quick succession, wondered first what it would be like if she were shaved; then, what it would feel like to kiss such a soft, red tuft.
She let her fingers play over the triangle of auburn curls, closing her eyes as the skin beneath became sensitised to her own touch. Using her thumb and middle finger, she prised apart her moist labia and eased her forefinger against the electric bud of flesh beneath. She felt a sigh escape her lips and knew that she was getting very turned on. She felt the first familiar little wave of pleasure waft through her — then felt it again, growing wet from her own touch.
Returning to the here and now, Justine looked up to the computer and carried on reading through the testimonial of the woman who loved her own sister. By then, the story and its sentiments resonated so deeply with her that the idea of feeling illicit passion for a sister seemed to make perfect sense.
Nor could she ignore how completely turned on she was becoming. Easing a finger between the cleft of her sex, she found that she was hot and wet to the touch. She curved one, then two fingers and slipped them inside herself. She felt her breathing deepen and closed her eyes, letting herself drift as she slowly worked her fingers in and out, then in and out again.
Almost urgently, she felt the need to be completely filled; to have her body rocked and invaded. She opened her eyes and looked for something appropriate to masturbate with. Her eyes fell onto the beer bottle she’d finished with her meal, then she grabbed it, marvelling at the cool glass beneath her hot fingers.
She rubbed the lip of the bottle against her clit, then began to slip it into herself. At first, the thin neck slid easily between the folds of her moist sex. But as the bottle widened, she needed to push more insistently, timing each push with the contractions of her muscles.
The glass surface was very cold inside her, at least at first — but Justine could only feel the huge eroticism of being filled, the sweet submission of allowing herself to be penetrated, and that made her hornier still. Feeling the bottle go deeper inside her, Justine let out a moan and moved her hips to accommodate its width more easily. With one hand pushing and teasing the glass bottle in and out of her vagina, she gave attention to her clitoris with the other — rubbing, flicking and tickling the sensitive bud.
As wave after wave of eroticism washed through her, Justine felt her sexual hunger rise even higher. Reclining back as far as she could on the chair, she began to fuck herself liberally with the makeshift glass dildo, driving the bottle deep inside herself. On impulse, she looked up to her desk, then reached for her “fat pen” that she used to make notes while she worked. Holding the bottle inside herself with one hand, she grasped the pen in the other, reached behind her leg and rubbed the tip of it against her anus.
Feeling the tight rosebud resist, she brought the pen back up to her mouth and moistened it, then returned it to the crack of her ass. Working slowly, she pushed the thick pen deep into her rectum and left it there, then began to fuck herself lustily with the bottle, now using both hands.
Her orgasm, when she gave into it, was extraordinary. Pulling out both the pen and the bottle and letting them fall to the floor, she jammed two fingers into her cunt and pressed down hard against her ripened clit.
Justine bucked and rocked in the chair, moving with the rhythm of ecstasy. Her mind, as it so often was in her dreams these days, had become a crazy jumble – a mishmash of images and thoughts. None coherent. Nothing tangible.
And that, after she had cleaned herself and lay quietly on the sofa, was all the more confusing for her. Justine loved to fantasise about certain things, even when she was still sleeping with David. There would be defined fantasy roles for her make-believe lovers, with certain face-types, body-types — even the sexual scenarios would be clear and defined.
But now her mind was a welter of confusion, leaving no clear direction for her desires. And there was no doubt that since the holiday in Portugal and her foggy sexual liaison with Rosa — not to mention her intimate chats with Jan — Justine had been thinking a lot more about sex.
No. That wasn’t right. Not just thinking more about sex; she was charged by it. Her orgasms were more powerful, her sexual needs greater. More dangerous, even — Justine had never done anything like fuck herself with a glass bottle before. It was all so very, very confusing.
She went to bed that night still a little excited, but confused… and somehow sad and disappointed in herself, for no particular reason.
*****
The next day, the meeting with Kelly washed away every iota of doubt, sadness, fear or worry. Justine got up early, worried about what to wear. Then, remembering that Kelly had suggested a day out, she picked a short-ish yellow flower-print summer dress. The dress was both pretty and cleverly under-wired, so that she didn’t need to wear a bra. It was also hideously expensive, so Justine didn’t wear it often.
Deciding on a bit of a wicked whim not to wear any underwear at all, Justine slipped on some flat-heeled slippers that went nicely with the dress. Then as an afterthought, she took a cardigan to put over her shoulders if the day grew cold.
Inspecting herself in the mirror, she checked her lipstick, eyeliner, pout and smile. All seemed to be in order.
The drive along the coast was uneventful, and when she parked her car in the drive of Kelly’s modest semi-detached house in Ashford, Justine felt the flutter of first-date nerves. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself but, when Kelly opened the door; a huge grin on her face, Justine turned into a teenage girl once again; grinning madly at nothing in particular. She got out of the car and nearly ran towards the front door. They briefly hugged, then went inside.
Once the door was closed, Justine put her bag down on the floor and looked at Kelly. The same face, same smile, same hair — bound in exactly the same way, she noticed. There was a clip at the top of her head to keep the massed hair in place, but the rest hung free.
Unable to check the happiness she felt, Justine threw her arms around Kelly’s neck and hugged her close.
“Feels like it’s been ages,” she said, burying her face in her newly found sister’s hair. She felt Kelly hug her back, but perhaps not as tightly as Justine did. She couldn’t help it. Justine wanted to hold her and hold her and hold her until she was sure that Kelly wouldn’t disappear. Nor could she help that her heart was beating crazily. It was a wonderful, magical feeling.
“Wow, you look great. I love that dress!” said Kelly.
Justine smiled broadly and looked over at her newly found sister. Kelly was dressed in grey combat trousers and a pink vest top and looked, in her own way, very good. “Thanks. I feel a bit overdressed now.”
Kelly shook her head, then inclined it over her shoulder. “Come on through. Want a cup of tea?”
Justine was grinning. She knew she was, but couldn’t help it. Somehow, in a way that she couldn’t properly describe, she felt happy. Contented. Blissful. Just being here in this unfamiliar location, with a woman she barely knew, she was at one with the universe.
“So are you still up for a day trip to Dover, then?” said Kelly, walking through the small lounge into her kitchen.
“Sounds great,” said Justine, taking a moment to look around. It was clear that Kelly wasn’t very well off, certainly much poorer than Justine herself was. But she made the best of what she had; everything was clean and well kept. In some way, it was very humbling for Justine to be in the house of someone who worked hard to make ends meet.
The two women chatted for a while as Kelly made the tea. They talked about nonsensical things: work, pets, the price of bloody train fares, etc. The sort of trifling details that really matter in a relationship. Taking their tea into Kelly’s front room, they sat on a pair of two-seater sofas angled closely next to each other. Both naturally drew their legs up beside them. As she did so, Justine became aware that her expensive yellow dress rode a long way up her thigh.
Kelly was quick to notice this and bit her lower lip. “If you carry on like that, I’ll have to beat them off with a stick.”
“What? Who?”
Kelly reached out and rested her fingers on Justine’s thigh, making the other woman’s mouth go dry. “Keep showing off these gorgeous pins, and I’ll have to take a stick to beat away all the blokes who’ll be gawping at you!” She sat back, her cheeks a little flushed.
Justine grinned. “No worries there,” she said. “As long as you keep an eye out for me.”
“That’s what sisters are for, right?”
They carried on talking, and Kelly outlined her thoughts for what she’d planned for the day. She wanted to take Justine to the great Dover Castle, and visit the 1940’s tunnels that had been built into the cliff during the Second World War. She’d planned on a picnic at the site overlooking the harbour, and then a drive around until it was time to go back.
Justine pulled a face and tugged at the hem of her yellow dress, raising it a little higher up her leg.
“Honestly, do you really think I’ll be all right in this dress? It seems like we’ll be doing a fair bit of walking, and if we’re in tunnels and stuff, maybe I should…”
“You can borrow some of my stuff, if you want to change,” Kelly offered, before Justine had finished her sentence.
“Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. We’re bound to be the same size, right? Come on up to my bedroom.”
The two women put down their cups and Justine followed Kelly upstairs to a small bedroom, with a double bed taking up most of the space on one side, and two large built-in wardrobes facing on the other.
“Plonk yourself down, then,” said Kelly, opening the farthest wardrobe. She took a few moments, rifling through the clothes, then said, “What d’ye fancy wearing?”
“I don’t know,” said Justine, “Shorts maybe? And any top that goes with it.”
“Okay.”
Kelly picked out a pair of combat shorts, and a ruffled yellow short-sleeved shirt. “Here, try these on.”
“Thanks.” Justine took the clothes and put on the shirt over her dress.
Kelly frowned. “Doesn’t look good with that dress on. Take that off first.”
Justine blanched. “I—er, I’m not wearing any—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Kelly, dismissively.
“Sure?”
“I have been in the girls’ locker room at college, y’know,” said Kelly with a wry smile.
Justine hesitated for a moment, then stood up and slipped her expensive dress off her shoulders, and pulled it down her body. She looked up momentarily and caught Kelly looking her up and down. Kelly’s eyes dropped to the red-tufted triangle of Justine’s pubes.
“Oh, I’m really sorry,” said Justine. “Sometimes I don’t, um, wear any.”
Kelly, as though snapped out of a trance, looked away, embarrassed. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, it’s — well, you’re just like me in every way, but I’ve never seen that.”
“What?” The thought that she was standing naked in Kelly’s bedroom barely registered anymore for Justine.
“Your, um, you know; our hair. I didn’t realise it was so red!”
Justine looked puzzled and Kelly’s blush reddened further. “I, uh, had an accident down there a long time ago. Had to have minor surgery and it, well, the hair never grew back.”
“You’re completely bare down there?” said Justine, fascinated.
“Yeah, I, uh — well, it was a long time ago. Do you, uh, do you want to try on that stuff?”
Justine wanted to ask a ton of questions, but was now becoming conscious of the uncomfortable atmosphere and, once more, very aware of her own nakedness. “Sure. Sorry. Didn’t mean to, you know.”
Kelly smiled tightly. “’S’alright. It was a long time ago.”
Justine tried on the shirt and shorts, and they fit perfectly. She could see that Kelly was a little upset, or perhaps uncomfortable. But shortly afterwards, she brightened up considerably. It marvelled Justine that there didn’t seem to be anything much that could keep down Kelly’s good spirits. It put her own hot temper to shame.
They went downstairs, Justine feeling curiously naughty wearing her sister’s clothes with no underwear. She’d decided against a bra, but agreed with Kelly that she should wear a tight vest top to hold what she had in place.
Kelly went to the kitchen and put together some things for the picnic she’d planned. “Do you, uh, mind if we go in your car?” she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Sure. Is yours broken?”
“It’s, um, well, yeah. It’s broken down a bit.”
“No problem. As long as you realise that I’ve got 9 points on my license and drive like a maniac — sometimes with my eyes closed.”
Kelly looked over her shoulder and flashed a girlish grin from behind her trailing curtain of red hair. “Tease.”
Justine had seen that look before. She recognised it as just like the one she practised in the mirror before going out on a date. It made her wonder, and tingle at the same time.
The two girls were soon on their way. Kelly was clearly impressed with Justine’s car, making comments about the interior, the quality and all the mod cons.
“Costing me a fortune, though,” said Justine, trying to concentrate on the winding road.
“In running costs?”
“In payments! I’ll be paying this bloody thing off for the next year and a half.”
“Wow. I’d have to go and sell my body or something to get a car like this. Not that I‘d make up enough money by doing that, anyway.”
Justine reached over and patted Kelly’s thigh. “I’d pay, honey,” she said, throwing a grin over at her.
She was about to take her hand away when Kelly, quite unexpectedly, put her hand over Justine’s. She squeezed it lightly, then drew it off her thigh. The two locked gazes briefly and smiled at each other.
They spent the rest of the journey in silence, or making the odd comment about the local countryside here and there.
They arrived at Dover Castle, and Kelly was keen to show a genuinely impressed Justine into the Castle grounds. At the entrance booth, the man looked into the vehicle and grinned.
“Hey. Are you two sisters?”
“Yup!” said Kelly.
“Haven’t I seen you on the telly?”
“I don’t think so!” Kelly laughed. They went through.
Kelly told Justine about the big, imposing medieval castle, then suggested they go to the WW2 tunnels first. Justine said she was happy with that, but was a little scared of tunnels, caves and exposed spaces.
“Don’t worry; I’ll look after you,” said Kelly.
Justine changed her expensive shoes for some trainers she kept in the boot of her car, then the two sisters set off. They stopped at a small souvenir shop until the next tour party arrived, then joined in with a handful of other people into the tunnels carved out beneath the famous chalk cliffs.
As they descended into some poorly-lit tunnels, Justine made a show of shivering, and hung back a little. Kelly noticed this and went back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s—it’s just I’m a little afraid of the dark still. And these tunnels….”
“Come on,” said Kelly, pulling at Justine’s arm. “Nothing to worry about here.”
As they rejoined the rear of the small tour group, Justine felt Kelly’s hand slip into her own, their fingers interlaced. She felt a quickening of her heartbeat and turned her head in the dim, shadowy light. Thanks, her smile said. Thank you for the comfort. Justine kept hold of Kelly’s hand all the way through the tunnels.
After they emerged into the outside, the two girls went back to the car and got out their picnic. They picked a spot overlooking the harbour and sat down, talking idly about this and that, nibbling at the food Kelly had brought. Try as she might, Justine had little appetite. Her stomach was churning a little from both the fear and the excitement of holding her sister’s hand.
“Have you always been afraid of the dark?” said Kelly, as the two stretched out beside one another and leaned back onto the soft grass.
Justine nodded. “As far as I can remember. I used to have this doll when I was younger; Pip was her name. I used to cuddle her in my sleep.”
“Do you still have her?”
“No,” said Justine, faltering a little. “She’s — ah — she’s gone now. Sometimes I just cuddle up to a pillow nowadays.”
“I do that! I cuddle cushions when I’m lounging on the sofa watching a film.”
“I used to cuddle up to my boyfriend,” said Justine, staring out at the big passenger boats as they navigated in and out of the gap in the huge harbour wall below them.
“I miss Dave,” said Kelly, in a small voice.
“Dave?” said Justine, automatically thinking of her cheating ex-boyfriend.
“My husband. He wasn’t very romantic. But he used to let me cuddle up now and again.”
“He must have been mad. Sorry–” said Justine, hastily; not wanting to offend her newfound sister. “I mean, if I was him, I’d be romantic to you all the time.”
Kelly shifted sideways and looked over at Justine, strands of her red curly hair covering one eye. She smiled. “Would you?”
“Absolutely!” said Justine, all conviction. She glanced sidelong at her sister, then stared back out to the harbour. “If I were your — you know — I’d buy you flowers, I’d take you to the theatre—”
“Would you write me poems?” said Kelly, stifling a giggle.
“All the time. Until you were sick of me reading them to you in bed.” She cleared her throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue; Kelly’s so pretty, this poem’s for you.”
Kelly laughed out loud and lay back onto the grass. “Then I’d have to do one for you.”
“Go on, then.”
Kelly took a deep breath and scrunched her features in concentration. “Roses are red,” she began, then hesitated, “and violets are blue…” She shook her head, not knowing what next to say.
“Uh-huh,” said Justine, teasing her and prodding Kelly’s tummy with her finger.
Kelly giggled and squirmed. Eventually she blurted out, “You’re wearing my clothes, but you’ve got your own shoe.”
“Agh! That’s terrible!” Justine said, tickling Kelly with a fury. The other woman rolled on the grass and laughed hard, offering only halfhearted attempts to stop Justine from tickling her. Eventually, the two lay back again, and Justine realised she’d squashed the roule cheese with her leg and now had the soft creamy stuff on her thigh. This brought about another fit of laughing as they cleared away the picnic.
Meanwhile, the sun dipped in the sky, and the boats sailed in, sailed out of the harbour. For Justine, it was the perfect picnic, the perfect day. And she knew, with a growing fear at the pit of her stomach, that she was falling desperately in love with her newly-found twin sister.
Continue on to Chapter 4
