Stepbrother Dearest

By: Penelope Ward

Within seconds, the heat from the picante sauce on his tongue began to penetrate my own, which was now burning. Even though it felt like my tongue was about to fall off, I didn’t ever want to pull away.

I’d never been kissed like this.

Then, just like that, he ripped his mouth away from mine.

“Don’t you know by now not to fuck with me?”

He walked away, and I stayed panting in the corridor with my hand over my chest.

Holy shit.

My mouth was on fire along with every other orifice. I was throbbing between my legs. When I finally gained enough composure to walk back out, I realized they needed their check at some point.

I decided to get it over with and took the leather bill binder to their table, placing it in front of Elec without making eye contact.

I overheard him telling Leila to meet him out front and that he’d take care of everything. He reached into his pocket and slipped something in the folder and soon after, he took off.

He probably didn’t even leave me a tip. I opened it and gasped when along with a twenty-dollar bill was my favorite black lace thong and written in pen on the check:

Keep the change, or rather, change into these. I’m guessing your current ones are a little wet.


Elec and I never spoke of the kiss even though it ran through my mind constantly. I was pretty sure it didn’t mean anything to him, that he was just trying to make a point. Still, the sensations I experienced were the same as if the kiss had been based on real passion. Knowing what his lips felt like on mine and how he’d tasted wasn’t a memory that could so easily be erased. I craved that feeling again. It made the battle between my mind and body much more difficult than before.

It was a curse having a crush on someone you had to live with, particularly when he brought girls from school back to the house.

One afternoon, while our parents weren’t home, he’d brought Leila over, and they were in his room messing around. Another afternoon, it was Amy. Then the next week, it was a different Amy.

I’d be in my room covering my ears so that I didn’t have to hear the sound of his bed squeaking or the stupid girl giggling. The particular day that Amy number two exited his room to go home, I texted him immediately after.

Really? Two Amys? Will Amy #3 be coming tomorrow? What are you thinking?!

Elec: I’m thinking you’re wishing your name were Amy…“sister.”

Greta: Step! Stepsister.

Elec: Scramble the word step, you get PEST. step=pest.

Greta: You’re a moron.

Elec: You’re a pest.

I got up from my bed in a huff and walked right into his room without knocking. He was playing a video game and didn’t even look at me. “I really need to get a lock on that thing.”

My heart was racing. “Why are you such a fucking jerk?”

“Nice to see you, too, sis.” He patted the bed next to where he was sitting at the edge with his eyes still fixed on the game. “If you won’t leave, by all means, have a seat.”

“I have no desire to sit on your dirty bed.”

“Is that because you’d rather sit on my dirty face?”

My heart nearly stopped.

His mouth spread into a devious smile as he continued to play the game. He had rendered me speechless. In fact, I had rendered myself speechless, because as soon as the words “sit on my dirty face” came out of his mouth, I had the urge to cross my legs to curb my arousal. My vagina was a hopeless fool. The cruder he was, the stronger its attraction to him.

Instead of dignifying his question with a response, I looked around the room, headed straight for his drawers and began rummaging through his things. “Where’s my underwear?”

“I told you, they’re not in here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I continued searching around until I stumbled upon something that caught my eye. It was a binder with a large stack of papers inside. Printed on the front were the words Lucky and the Lad by Elec O’Rourke.

“What’s this?”

For the first time, Elec stopped his video game and practically flew off the bed. “Don’t touch that.”

I flipped through it as fast as possible before he ripped it out of my hands. There was dialog and some lines were crossed out and corrected in red pen. My eyes widened. “You wrote a book?”

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