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“You’re holding me like you think I’m gonna break in half,” Karla said, speaking low so no-one else would hear, “What’s wrong?” She adjusted her own stance and pulled me in closer to herself, but within only two beats of the music, my hard tool bumped her lower belly through our clothing. “Oh,” she said, looking down. I felt hot with shame, and all I could say was, “Sorry. I’m really sorry.” “Now I know why you didn’t want to get too close,” she smiled, leaning closer again, so she could speak quietly.“Look,” I started, “I’m really sorry about that. Do you want to sit down?”“No!” Karla said, as though sitting down was a totally ridiculous idea, “It’s all right. Your body doesn’t know who I am,” she said, as she calmly adjusted her own pelvis and her own stance, so my horn wasn’t touching her. “But you’re my stepdaughter,” I said, looking down, still burning with shame.“So what?” Karla said, breezily, still smiling, still dancing, “It’s not like we haven’t been properly introduced.”. “Ah, you’re supposed to be in Vegas right now with some chick bouncing on your balls, right?”I tried to ignore the pang of jealousy. I’d always hoped to be invited. Vegas was supposed to be a yearly Christmas tradition with his friends, but a few months into our parents’ marriage his trips became more and more frequent.“Why didn’t you ever take me with you?”He cleared his throat. “They were boys’ weekends.”“There were a few times you went alone.” Usually when our parents were out of town.“Sometimes I just needed to get away.”“Why?” I prodded, hanging more baubles from the branches until it was almost impossible to see the pine needles. He shrugged, looking down at the tree and focusing intently on looping the ribbon of one ball on a particular branch. “Why did you always lay your head on my lap when we watched movies?”He looked up and our eyes locked. Heat seemed to radiate between us—the air thick with some unspoken truth. I gulped, unsure how he would take my next confession, but I.
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