Close My Eyes

Paris. First time we can actually relax.

Eurostar from St Pancras. Felt like running away.

We checked into Hôtel Rochechouart as Mr and Mrs Smith. Stupid name but it felt like playing. Like we weren't stealing moments in a soulless Cambridge hotel. Like we weren't fucking in my car in that layby off the M11.

My hands were shaking when I inserted the key card. Still nervous. Just different nervous.

I opened the door. We looked at each other.

'No one knows us here,' he said.

'No.'

'No colleagues of Mark's. No one from your chambers. No one who'll see us and wonder why you're with your brother in a hotel.'

'I know.'

'We could do anything. Try things we can't in Cambridge or in your car.'

That made me look at him properly. 'What things?'

'I've been thinking.' He stepped inside. 'About what we could do if we had time. Privacy.'

His mouth on mine before the door closed. Different this time. Not desperate like Cambridge. Not quick and guilty like my office. Deliberate.

Got me against the wall, his hands everywhere.

'The mirror,' he said against my neck. 'Look.'

Turned my head. Big mirror on the wall opposite. Could see us. His body against mine. His hands on me.

'I want to watch,' he said. 'Want you to watch.'

'Watch what?'

'Everything.'

Got my blouse open. Black lace bra. Pulled it down. His mouth on my nipple and I could see it all in the mirror. My head back. His dark hair. My hands in it.

'The skirt,' he said. 'Lift it. Slowly. Watch yourself do it...'

I did it, watching in the mirror. Up my thighs. The sheer black tights. Nothing underneath.

'Jesus.' His voice rough. 'Do you see yourself? How you look?'

'Yes.'

'Tell me what you see.'

'I see...' Couldn't say it.

'Say it.'

'I see someone's wife about to let her brother fuck her.'

He groaned. Hooked his fingers in the tights. Tore them. The sound...the rip at the gusset. Both of us watching in the mirror.

His fingers found me. Already wet. Could see his hand moving. See my face change.

'I brought something,' he said.

'What?'

Pulled back. Went to his bag. Came back with a tie. One of his work ties.

I stared. 'What the fuck Rich?'

'Thought about this. All week.' Hesitated. 'Would you let me?'

'Let you what?'

'Tie your hands.'

Should say no. But we're in Paris where no one knows us.

'Alright...but not too tight.'

His hands shook tying my wrists. Behind my back as he positioned me in front of the mirror. Him behind me. Could see everything. My wrists bound. Blouse open. The torn tights.

'Look at you,' he breathed. His hands on my breasts. Both of us watching. 'My sister. Tied up for me.'

'Rich...'

'What do you think Mark would say?'

'Don't..'

His hand slid down. Between my legs. I watched bound and helpless and soaking wet.

'Please.'

He led me to the bed, face down, my wrists still tied. He pulled my hips up and pushed inside. Deeper like this. His hands gripping me. I couldn't touch him back.

'How does this feel?' he said.

'Good. Fuck..good.'

We started moving. Hard. Bed frame hitting the wall.

'The mirror,' he said. 'Look up.'

Did. Could see us. Me face down. Wrists bound. Him behind me.

'Say what you are.'

'Your sister.'

'What else?'

'Yours.'

He came, too fast, and pulled out, fumbling with the knot as he untied my wrists.'

'Did I hurt you?'

'No.' Couldn't find words. 'Fuck.'

Kissed my wrists. 'Your turn.'

'What?'

'Whatever you want. To me.'

Looked at him. 'Anything?'

'Anything.'

Thought about it. 'Stand by the mirror.'

He did.

'Strip. Slowly. I want to watch.'

He undressed. Could see him getting hard as I watched. Sat on the bed. Legs crossed. Just looking.

'Touch yourself,' I said.

'Natalie...'

'You said anything. I want to watch you touch yourself thinking about me.'

His hand went to his cock. Started stroking. Could see his face in the mirror. How he looked.

'What are you thinking about?' I asked.

'You. Always you.'

'What about me?'

'That first time in Cambridge. How scared you were. How you did it anyway.'

'What else?'

'Last month. In your office. You bent over your desk. Skirt up. Me inside you while your phone kept ringing.'

Was getting wet watching him. My hand went between my legs.

'Are you touching yourself?' he said.

'Yes.'

'Let me see.'

Lay back on the bed. Legs apart. Let him watch. Both of us in the mirror on the opposite wall. Him standing. Me on the bed. Both touching ourselves.

'This is so wrong,' I said.

'I know.'

'We're sick.'

'I know.'

'Come here.'

He did. Climbed over me. Pushed inside. Both of us watching in the mirror. Could see everything. His body over mine. My legs around him. Where we joined.

'There,' he said. 'Look at us.'

Did. Couldn't look away. My brother inside me. Both of us watching it happen.

'I love you,' he said. 'Shouldn't. Can't help it.'

Should tell him not to say that. Should keep this just physical. But looking at us in the mirror. Seeing how he looked at me.

'I love you too.'

Wrong thing to say. Makes it real. But it is real. Has been since Cambridge.

He moved, slower now and deeper, making it last. Both of us watching, his hand between us. Finding my clit...he knew exactly how to touch me.

'Please come for me sis,' he said. 'Want to see your face when my big sister falls apart.'

And I did, watching myself in the mirror. Watching him watch me. I came so hard I couldn't breathe.

He followed, still looking at me, at us.

After, lying tangled together, I said what I'd been thinking.

'We can't go back from this.'

'From what?'

'From saying it. From meaning it.'

'Don't want to go back.'

'Richard. We have to. This ends Sunday. You know that.'

'Doesn't have to.'

'Yes it does. You've got London and Clare. I've got Cambridge and Mark and the children.'

'Leave him.'

Sat up. Looked at him. 'We've talked about this. It's impossible.'

'Is it? Or are you just scared?'

'Of course I'm scared. Do you know what would happen? To the children? To our parents? Everyone would know. Everyone would know what we are.'

'What we are is in love.'

'We're also brother and sister. That doesn't just go away because we want it to.'

He grabbed my hand. 'I don't care.'

'You should care. We both should.'

But looking at him. At us in the mirror. Wondered if I actually believed that anymore.

Later, in the bath, he washed my hair. Gentle. The marks from the tie still visible on my wrists.

'Did I hurt you?' he asked again.

'No. I liked it.'

'Yeah?'

'Yes. Liked not being in control. Not having to think.'

His hands in my hair. Quiet for a bit. Then: 'Could do it again. If you want. Next time.'

'Next time?'

'Rome. Two months from now.'

Should say no. Should end this. But my wrists still ached in the best way. And I could still see us in that mirror.

'Rome then,' I said.

Got out. Dried off. Ordered room service. Both of us in the hotel robes. Almost normal. Dangerous, that feeling.

'We could go out,' he said. 'To dinner. No one knows us here.'

We did. Little bistro near the hotel. Held hands across the table. The couple next to us smiled. Probably thought we were newlyweds.

'They think we're normal,' I said quietly.

'We are normal. Here.'

'Just here though.'

'I'll take it.'

Back in the room. On the bed. Made love this time. Not fucking. Slower. Looking at each other. Not the mirror. Just us.

After, he held me. Both of us quiet.

'Don't want Sunday to come,' he said.

'I know.'

'Two months is too long.'

'It has to be. Any more and people will notice. Mark's already watching me.'

'What if we were more careful? Less time between.'

'No. We've been pushing it already. Cambridge. My office. That's risky enough. This...' Gestured at the room. 'This is the only place we can actually breathe.'

He kissed my shoulder. Didn't argue. Knew I was right.

Stayed awake longer that night. Listening to French voices outside. His arm around me. The marks on my wrists hidden under the covers.

Knowing Sunday we go back to real life. Back to hiding. Back to being brother and sister in public and nothing more.

But right now we've got Paris.

Where we can be tied up and watch ourselves in mirrors and say I love you.

And Sunday is still hours away.