She pushed my knees apart and knelt down between them, grabbing hold of my feet again. As if in slow motion, I saw my grasping hand slip between my sister’s creamy thighs, to the exact spot where Russell’s hand had been. Tabatha had her legs spread and she was raised up on her elbows to watch what I was doing, but she threw her head back and writhed with pleasure and I could feel her getting wetter as I fingered her. “Yeah, stop it, Russell!” Tabatha called after him. Not today. As I spied on Tabatha through the net curtains, the bulge was getting bigger, not smaller. I think I woke myself by calling out in my sleep. If they knew what one felt like. Don’t go there!” a voice said in my head. I looked back at my own sketch and used an eraser to rub out the sneer on her face and the hemline which was now drawn too far down her thighs.
