Diane Hearst, eighteen, has waves of blonde hair, ample breasts, puffy lips and a minute heart tattooed on her right shoulder, a sorrowful expression that promises you butter won’t melt in her mouth. Except that it does, often, when she is in the company of boys like Jon, her current beau, her hairless super-fit stud, as she prefers to call him, the junior assistant furniture warehouse manager at a small town bed, divan, duvet, couch and sofa showroom on the grubby, litter-strewn outskirts of their dilapidated local industrial-shopping estate.
She squats in front of her dressing room mirror in just her black low-cut bra, fiddling with her silver lucky charm necklace. Diane starts to paint her face. Her room is a gaudy doll’s house with bright candy pink walls, secret nooks and crannies, dim alcoves crammed full of ornately decorated oriental wooden dolls, fun fairytale characters, not much else – other than her candyfloss duvet covered bed and battered off white Argos pine chest of drawers. The fuchsia pillows, piled up at the head of the bed, are strewn with soft cuddly toys: pink bunny rabbits, pink pussycats, limp pink rag dollies, her one-eyed teddy bear. Diligently, she purses her spoilt girl lips and daubs them in matte berry red lipstick. Sensing Jessie, entering the bedroom, seeing her sister’s facial reflection gawp at her in the mirror, she quickly finishes off her lips, shrugs her shoulders, and smiles, smugly: the cat who always gets the cream. Di has a tendency to say the word all a lot, as in her life is all a lot of fun.
‘Love the lipstick,’ her uglier sister remarks collapsing in a heap on her bed, ‘What is it?’
‘It’s called Red Sin,’ she says, chucklesome, ‘It’s all red hot and sinful, like me. Jon loves it on me, says it makes him want to kiss it off. He’s taking me out to see The Ugliest Sister at the flicks tonight. It’s rumoured to be pretty gory: lots of graphic sex, violence, visceral body horror. Just my scene really. It’s all about an ugly girl who goes to great extremes to make herself look more beautiful.’
Jessie’s face turns a sickly-looking pale greenish off white colour, ‘Not about me, is it?’
‘Don’t fret, it isn’t about you, how could it be? You look too pretty for it to be about you.’
‘Not as pretty as you and our wonderful supermodel sister Jules, though, am I?’
Detecting a pang of spiteful envy in Jessie’s voice, Di settles next to her on the bed, ‘Is that how you really feel about us?’
‘It is how I feel,’ Jessie says, wringing her hands in her lap, ‘I also happen to think you’re much too young to see an adult film like that. Di, you’re only just eighteen, a schoolgirl!’
‘So? I look older than you do when I’m all made up. If I want to see a sexy horror film, I will,’ she hesitates, ‘Won’t tell Joan, will you? She thinks Jon’s taking me to a romantic cheese and nibbles evening at Eva’s Wine Bar in Main Street.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t spill. Actually, it’s romance I want to talk to you about. Just a sec.’
Jessie climbs off the bed and shuts the door, ‘He called last night. He wants to see me.’
Di swivels round to face her. She now has her sister’s undivided attention, ‘Mister Bell?!’
‘The very same,’ she boasts.
‘And will you? See him?’
‘I want to, one last time that’s all: mummy went ape at me when I told her this morning.’
‘You told her? I’m not surprised she lost it with you. He’s old enough to be your father.’
‘Maybe that’s why I want to see him again? Maybe, I miss having a daddy to look up to?’
‘Maybe,’ Di repeats, thinking out loud, ‘Just be careful. I must dress. I’ll be late for Jon.’
She pulls out a jet black blouse and a shiny leather miniskirt, no stockings, tights, or pants.
‘He likes me all bare down there,’ she says, all giggly as she shrugs on her blouse, buttons it, as far as her breasts, pulls on her microskirt, and slips on her pair of shiny stiletto heels. Dressed to kill, ready for love, she struts to the door, a peacock fanning her feathers in an overt mating display for her male cock, literally.
Jess shakes her head in disbelief at her bare faced cheek,’ You’re a very naughty girl, Di.’
‘I try to be. Don’t you?’ she teases, glancing over her sloped shoulder at her smiling sister.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘If you must know, I feel sorry for you, Jessie, wasting your love life on a knackered horse like Bell when you should be out having fun with someone more your own age. If you don’t mind my saying, you need to get out more, go to the clubs, pubs, cafés, wine bars, anywhere. See if you can find somebody young to fall in love with, instead of old dobbin.’
‘Knackered horse? Old dobbin?’ Jessie erupts into laughing, ‘I never think of him as that.’
‘Maybe it’s time you did,’ her younger sibling says, quitting the room, ‘I’ll see you later. If you’re still up when I get back, that is. I know how tired you get, what with all that sex and food.’
Jessie ignores her barb, ‘Say hello to Jonny for me, Di. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’
Diane puffs up grandly as she wobbles off to the landing in her high heels. Both girls take the contraceptive pill, just to be on the safe side. Jessie: in case she meets someone she loves enough to have sex with. Di: for when she decides to have sex with her man, tonight.
Your stories run hot, even in the cold monsoons of night.
I am indebted to you for your kind words of appreciation. Sisters End has just had a free book promotion on amazon – I sold 86 copies for free, so, I never made a single dollar but the book rose to 31st in erotica! I’m just a girl, giving it all away! xxx
I love how both the girls talk to each other. I did laugh at the end as if to say to the reader. “Were on the pill, relax” Very entertaining read. Always love your brand of spice.
Thanks Fia! It’s a sneak preview, like Julia and Jessie, of my latest 32,000 word novella, as featured in the anthology Sister’s End. The trouble is, folk aren’t buying books or kindles these days – until you give them away for free. I promoted Sisters’ End as a free kindle on Amazon recently, promoted it for free on X, FB, BS, Pinterest et al – and “sold” 86 kindles in 2 hours, made £0. Sadly, this means no-one will ever hear or read the girls’ full story. Oh, well. Being very English, I’ve decided to buy a ticket to the London Book Festival in March and press the point home. It’s lovely to be read and listened to here, there, and everywhere, though – lovely to be appreciated. Planet Amazon’s a lonely place! Have a lovely weekend.
Can you be more specific about the content of your article? After reading it, I still have some doubts. Hope you can help me.