Another Night Wasted, Chapter 1

  • Posted on November 11, 2017 at 7:10 am

By Jane Doe

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

Another night wasted, time ticking by while I’m lost in my own world. Hiding behind my locked door, sleepless nights spent wandering my room, changing my clothes, trying to find something – anything – that feels right. Sitting outside my window, drinking beers pilfered from the fridge downstairs in the hopes that the alcohol might help me sleep. It never works, in case you were wondering.

It all started after a night like this. I don’t know what was keeping me up then. She came in to wake me up that morning, giving me a reproachful look when she saw me standing in the middle of the room, lost in thought, wearing my favorite baseball shirt and black boxer-briefs for girls and not much else.

She just raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, then pointed at the window. My eyes followed her finger, processing for the first time how bright it was outside.

“It’s time to get up. Or at least get dressed and ready for school.” Her soft voice a bit concerned, knowing that once again I hadn’t slept.

I just stared at the window dumbly for a moment and then leapt into action, scrounging clean clothes from the piles on the floor. Satisfied, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

This is how most of our conversations went. Short sound bites punctuated by gestures or facial expressions. Rarely did more than two or three sentences pass between us before the encounter ended. Never too many words, often too few. Not that I recognized it then.

That morning I pulled on some jeans and a thermal weave top to combat the cold outside, then a t-shirt over that before scrambling to get socks on and my boots laced before heading downstairs to grab a mug of coffee.

We trudged out to her little rusty piece of crap she called a car through the slush and snow and she cranked up the heater as soon as she turned the engine over. I fussed with the shoulder strap of my seat belt as we drove in silence.

Then the world was spinning. I was slammed forward and against my door, a shocking pain running up through my left arm as I flung it out, seeking something to brace against. I was dazed by the crack my head had sustained against the window as the spinning came to an abrupt halt. My right hand fumbled with that damn seat belt as my left was cradled instinctively to my chest. I finally stumbled out of the car.

Suddenly I remembered my sister in the car and I scrambled back through the open passenger side door, not prepared for the sight that greeted me. She was slumped onto the steering wheel, one hand still hanging onto it, the other hanging limply down. Blood was streaming down the side of her face, leaving a deep ruby stain on her fair skin and in her otherwise strawberry blonde hair.

I think I screamed. I gathered her to me, forgetting everything I knew of emergency medicine. I honestly thought she was dying. With her lying limp in my arms, my mind just couldn’t process what I may have already lost. For the first time, I loved her. Truly and completely. I know I was crying and stroking her face and I think I was mumbling as I kissed her forehead and cheeks and lips and chin, oblivious to the coppery taste of blood on my lips. As I kissed her I felt her briefly stir, lips parting under mine as she let out a soft, pained groan. My mouth opened with hers, taking the innocent kiss of sorrow and love a step farther, and I let out my own moan as her breath passed into me.

In that one moment I felt more emotion pass through me than I do in an eventful month. To feel her body stir, to taste her breath, to know she was alive. She wasn’t leaving me. There was still time to say things that had never been said. There was a brand new closeness to my sister in that kiss, on so many levels. And after the kiss broke, there was… the desire for more. The desire for her.

Turned out I had a minor concussion and a broken wrist. Her concussion was more severe, and she needed a couple of stitches to close the cut on her forehead. But the change in me was profound. That desire is still in me, and every time I look at her or talk to her it grows. I think I see her more clearly now.

And after these weeks, all those unsaid things have remained that way. I can’t find words for any of them. I want that closeness back, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, more than I want Mom to be alive again. But I have no idea how to find it.


I’m mixing meatloaf for dinner and Jen is watching me, fidgeting at the island in the kitchen. She’s been watching me a lot lately. I know she hates it when I worry about her, but I can’t help it, she’s my little sister.

I’ve been taking care of her for most of our lives, since Mom died. I don’t think she remembers much about Mom at all, and I envy her a bit for that. Dad has done what he could for us, and we all look after one another in our own ways. With him gone most of the day, we’ve really been the only constants in one another’s lives. A lot of people would end up closer because of a situation like this, but I think we all like our privacy a bit too much.

At least Dad and I do. I’m a lot like him, in looks and temperament. Strawberry blonde, blue eyed, with a quiet nature. I do my best to do what’s expected of me, including look after Jen. Sometimes I wonder if she needs more than I’m giving her.

I look up from my mixture of cold meat and eggs and oatmeal to return her gaze for a moment before she looks away, embarrassed at being caught. Every once in a while it strikes me how much she looks like Mom. Blonde hair as fine as silk and soft, light brown eyes.  Everything about her from the curve of her jaw and her pointed chin to the shape of her slightly pursed lips and her gently upturned nose. But most of all her faraway, contemplative stare. It reminds me of the stories Mom would tell, how much she liked to talk, and it hurts sometimes. I wonder what she’s thinking about when she looks like that.

God, I miss Mom sometimes. I adored the sound of her voice and I loved seeing her smile. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. Suddenly I really want to see Jen smile. I’m lost in my own thoughts when she pipes up.


When I watch my big sister my thoughts tend to wander. Every little move she makes and every expression makes me think of something different, but it all comes back to the same thing. Even watching her make dinner becomes strangely fascinating, stray locks of hair falling into her face once in a while and the delicate way she uses her wrist to push them back in place. The way her eyes sparkle in even the most common light, a soft, intense blue like the summer sky. The light purse of her lips when she’s thinking, or just focused on the task at hand.

And her lips always take me back to that morning. The first and only time I’ve ever kissed them. How I lose myself whenever I think about that kiss and how I wonder what her lips would taste like without blood on them… or how just about any other part of her body would taste or feel, depending on where my eyes wander next.

Then I realize she’s looking right back at me. Guilt knots my stomach and I look away, a burning rising to my cheeks. She has this way of looking at me as though she knows what I’m thinking and it always made me a bit self conscious, but now it’s almost terrifying.  She can live a long, happy life without knowing what a pervert her little sister is. I need something… anything to get my mind off this desire I feel for her. So I open my mouth and the first thing that pops to mind comes out…


“Lana, are you going out tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a date. Dinner should be ready at 6:30 for you and Dad, though.” I try for a smile as my thoughts slip to Craig, my boyfriend. Tall, broad, handsome and athletic, just my type — physically, at least.

Lately he’s been a bit pushy on the sex issue, though. Whatever happened to waiting until the feeling is right? I mean, I want to do it… eventually, with the right guy and at the right time. But how am I supposed to know if he’s the right guy after only two months? He just keeps pressuring me, though.

I finished the meatloaf without another word, lost in my own thoughts. After washing my hands I headed upstairs to get showered and dressed for my date. I laid out my clothes beforehand so I began fixing my makeup and hair. Once I was done I took a moment to check myself out. I love my hair, it’s almost down to my lower back and calling it strawberry blonde just doesn’t seem to do it service. All the hues of a sunset, my dad said once. Maybe sunset blonde would be a better term. I think my body’s turning out pretty well too… slim where I should be and curved where it matters. And my eyes, sky blue with just hints of green on the inside rim.

When I was satisfied with my outfit and look, I headed back downstairs to finish up dinner. And back to Jen’s watchful gaze.


Craig again. That asshole. I think everyone knows he’s an asshole except Lana and Dad. And Dad would figure it out if he ever met the guy for more than five minutes. He’s one of those guys that looks great on paper or in a picture, or really if you only just met him, but as time goes on you get to see how fucking shallow the bastard is. I hope to God she hasn’t let him get in her pants.

My stomach twists again as the image flickers through my mind and the burning sickness of jealousy takes hold. I can hear the shower start upstairs and I bury my face in my hands.

By the time she comes down again, dressed and ready for her date, I’ve managed to pull myself back into a semblance of normality, and everything else clears out of my mind as she comes into the room. Hair back in a calculatedly messy bun, a tauntingly tight little spaghetti string tank top, pristine white, fashionably worn in jeans that make it a feat of willpower to tear my eyes away from her thighs and a long, clingy knit grey coat to finish the outfit off.

Pants are a good sign… especially pants as slim as those. No easy access there. Though they would be so much fun to peel off. For a second I imagine Lana laying back on my bed, letting me slide those pants down her legs…

It’s hard to believe that Lana never notices the desire I feel for her, the need that seems like it must be written on my face… but she just smiles at me and I melt, grinning back, watching her as she finishes dinner. Until Craig’s intrusion it’s just us, and that’s how I like it. Secretly I think she likes it too, or at least doesn’t mind, judging by how much happier she seemed by the time he showed up.


It might sound kind of strange, but I kind of enjoyed the feeling of Jen’s eyes on me. It’s nice to have someone who knows how much effort I put in to looking good really appreciating it. I don’t think her eyes left me once… and by the time Craig was knocking on the door I was smiling broadly. I don’t know how she manages it, but there are times Jen can make me smile like nobody else in the world.
With one last smile and a wave I headed out on my date.


Dad went to bed a while ago. I’m still up, lying in bed, TV on more as background than something to really watch. In the darkness of my room, alone, just my thoughts to keep me company. I wonder what she’s doing. I don’t know why she bothers with Craig, he’s an ass. One of those cocky bastards that think they can score with any girl they please. My skin is crawling at the mere thought of him touching her.

Sometimes I want her so badly it hurts. Just to lay with her, or hold her close. To feel her body next to mine and breathe in her scent, to bury my face against the back of her neck, hide in her hair. I think I’m going totally fucking crazy…

Her room is empty and dark. I get up and go to the window, looking out into the night and decide what the fuck, I wanna get a buzz… I’ll just try and stay under the eaves to avoid the rain. Grabbing my stash from my bedside stand, I open the window and climb out, rain making me shiver as it hits my skin in icy cold droplets.

I’m smoking off a half joint I rolled earlier in the week, letting the acrid smoke linger in my lungs and letting it wrap around my brain, taking the edge off my other cravings for a moment at least. Leaning back against the siding of the house I wonder what she’d be like stoned… maybe giggly and happy, maybe overly philosophical.

It’s almost like a deep ache in my chest as I think back to kissing her, just that once, after the accident. Likely all I’ll ever have.

I slip back inside and, without thinking about it too much, leave my room and go to hers. The door slides open silently and a feeling of elation washes over me, knowing I have access to this, her private sanctum. What have these walls seen? What could they tell me that I don’t already know? And everything here is hers. Even the air smells of her.

Her bed is soft and warm, neatly made as I lay down on top of the covers, burying my face in her pillow, drinking in her scent. I wonder what she’s done in this bed… how often she touches herself, or if she even does that. My mind wanders over the possibility, imaging her lying where I am now… maybe in her pajamas, maybe just in a t-shirt and underwear, maybe wearing nothing at all. I imagine the way her hand would move, or her back arch, the sounds and expressions she would make…

I wake with a jerk, fog of sleep and smoke still thick around my brain. I was having such a nice dream… a dream about…


Lana. Her voice is soft in my ear… my heart races and my eyes snap open, maybe it wasn’t just a — then I realize I’m holding the phone to my ear. There is no soft, warm body beside me in bed, no warm breath on my neck.


The only thing I could do I did, that being pulling out my cell phone and dialing the number for home. I held my breath as I waited half a ring, the pickup cutting it short… silence for a moment…

“Jen?” a hopeful note in my voice, ever so softly. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding in a soft, relieved sigh as I heard my little sister’s voice on the other end, sounding rather groggy and disoriented. Oh God, she had been sleeping… she almost never sleeps.

“Lana… wha — what time is it… and where are you?”

“It’s about one. I’m so sorry to wake you Jennie, but I’m out at Brentwood and my ride left me hanging… Think you could come out and pick me up?” That asshole… I can’t believe he left me out here. Making me call home for a fucking ride.

“Yeah, yeah no problem, Lana… Brentwood? By the Sears entrance? I can be there in twenty.”

“Thank you, Jen. I’ll see you.” I waited for the line to click off, then folded my phone and slipped it back in my purse. I know very well that it takes more than half an hour to get here from our house, but that’s just how great my sister is. I wake her up, and she almost sounds eager to come and get me.

God damn, I hate that bastard Craig.


I was down and out in two minutes, max, a fresh cigarette between my lips to try and drive the fog from my mind. She’s only that calm, that quiet, when something has gotten to her. What could’ve happened?

What did she do? Or maybe what didn’t she do? The questions whirl through my addled brain as I drive.

That fucker had better not have hurt her.

Thoughts of violence leave me as I pull around the mall, spotting my big sister standing alone in a pool of light. She’s a tiny figure that quickly grows as I approach.  Under one of the lamps out front, her face is shrouded in shadows, and as she looks up at the car her face is thrown into high relief, white light from above and deep shadows exaggerating her features. To me she looks like an angel, skin luminous and hair a shining gold, her red tones washed out and transformed into subtle hints.

I slow the car as I pull up, staring at her in awe as she walks over. The dome light snaps me out of it when she opens the door, gifting me with a thankful smile.

“Jen, you’re the best. I adore you. Thanks so much.” She sounds a bit relieved as she climbs in and even though I know she doesn’t… well… mean what she says like I want her to, I’m still blushing.

“No problem, just remember this next time I miss curfew by a half hour.” Still blushing, I’m smiling back at her like a goon, and as I pull out my heart leaps into my throat. I reach over to her, laying my right hand on her left and giving hers a gentle squeeze.

For the rest of the ride home I’m on cloud nine, holding her hand. Soft and warm and delicate. All I can think of as I drive is how much I love her.


I climbed into the car and began staring out the window, all the things Craig said still ringing in my ears, anger on a slow burn in my brain and my stomach.

I look down in surprise as her hand slides onto mine, giving me a comforting squeeze and bringing a faint smile to my face. Her hand is warm and a bit sweaty, as though she was nervous about something.  Squeezing back is a balm on my anger.  What does it matter if the first boy I date is a total ass? I still have my friends and most importantly, I still have Jen. Sometimes I get lost in taking care of her, but moments like this remind me that she’s also here to take care of me.

She drives us home, I watch the world pass by out the window, holding her hand securely. I’m just left to think it all over. But mostly I let my mind wander, I’ve spent enough time and effort liking Craig to bother too much more with hating him. Just being there with Jen makes me smile and relax, until it hits me.
What would happen if she wasn’t there? What would I do if I lost her? And maybe, just maybe, that’s why she’s been so weird since the accident. I mean, I don’t remember any of it, I barely remember getting up that morning, but I know I was out for a good amount of time. And seeing the pictures of what the car looked like… maybe she thought I was dead. Maybe she thought she had lost me.

It’s almost like getting punched in the chest to even think of it that way. I think she’s going to be getting a lot more of my time in the future. After all, if you can’t rely on your sister, who can you rely on?


When we get back home I have to let go of Lana’s hand to get out of the car, and I do it reluctantly. But heading around the car, she’s still waiting for me at the base of the walk, and when I join her she slides her hand into mine once again and we walk up and into the house together. Side by side, hand in hand we walk. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.

When we get up to her room she pauses, looking at me and raising an eyebrow. I left her door open… heat rises through my face as I feel the blush spread.

“Umm… yeah. I kinda fell asleep in your room… I’m sorry, I know…”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it… really. Tonight I feel like I could maybe use some company.”

Her interruption startles me, but not nearly as much as the offer. As hard as I try to be calm about it I can’t help but stare at her open-mouthed for a moment.

“Sure… I mean, if you want. If you need it…”

“I don’t need anything but my little sister. I really would be lost without your little hooligan butt to take care of.”

She’s smiling and I can’t help but grin back. On impulse I pull her into a tight hug and hold her there. Her arms slide around me in return and we spend a long moment there in the dark together. I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer to her. At the same time I’m far too conscious of the feel of her body pressed against mine, the softness of her breasts, the slimness of her waist swelling down into her hips, and my god, the smell of her.

I bury my face in the side of her neck, breathing in deeply, her perfume making me feel twice as high as any drug ever has.

After a long moment she pulls away from the hug, sliding her hand into mine once again and leading me into her room. She takes a moment to close the door behind us and lets go of my hand, turning her back to me and dropping her jacket off her shoulders, hanging it off the chair by her desk. My heart is pounding as she continues to undress, pulling her shirt up and off over her head, exposing the line of her spine, the curve of her waist flaring out into her hips, the contours of her shoulder blades, the smooth skin of her shoulders and the nape of her neck, begging to be touched and kissed, to feel the caress of my lips.

Her glance back at me broke my reverie, my mouth dry and the thundering in my ears redoubling until she smiles and giggles a bit, breaking my tension at least. She tosses a shirt over at me, hitting me in the face with it, and with that the last scraps of my nervousness fade. I grab a pillow from her bed and smack her with it, and soon we’re giggling like 7-year-olds, half naked in bed. After finishing getting ready for bed we settle in, spooning comfortably, her back to my front.

They say reality can never live up to fantasy, but in this case reality far surpassed anything I could have imagined. To feel her against me, her warmth next to me, my arms around her, to have her all to myself. I held her close as she drifted off, and laid there in heaven until sleep took me as well.

Continue on to Chapter 2


No comments on Another Night Wasted, Chapter 1

  1. admatt says:

    Nice beginning.

  2. mark allen says:

    Very sweet! I know I will enjoy the next Chapter.

  3. Sam says:

    This is amazing so far….such a tease

  4. Tim says:

    Beautifully written. I loved the slow build up, the development of the intimate relationship of the two sisters, the hint of sex between them, but only the slightest mention leading me with anticipation on to chapter 2.
    Can’t wait to

  5. Em says:

    Omg who wrote this?! This story is so fucking amazing and beautiful. I’ve never read anything like it. Who wrote it!?

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