Scene One

Ecstasy flowed through her body like energy in her slumber.  The essence of his strength drove through her to the very core, the warmth enveloped her in its smothering yet comfortable embrace.  A smile broke across her peaceful lips, almost half her face embedded into the fabric of the pillow.  Her mouth opened to a small circle the size of a marble, letting a low moan escape as she reached the pinnacle of the dream, feeling uncontrollable climax course through her.

Her eyes flashed open, awakening in almost an instant.  Though whether or not she was fully asleep, she knew not.  Reaching down between her legs, she found her underwear to be wet.  It had been the strongest, most vivid one yet.  Yes, she had allowed thoughts such as these to enter her mind over the last month and sometimes recalling a dream of some nature, but nothing like what she had just experienced.  So clear in her memory even now.  Most people forget dreams upon awakening as was the case with herself.  Not this time, however.

The comforter and blanket tossed from her,  her near naked body exposed to the airy environment of the bedroom.  The expected chill confronted her then dissipated as she adapted to it, sitting up now on the edge of the bed.  Her head in her hands, fingers interweaving with her hair.  Why was she think about this?  And why so strong now?

Beside her on the nightstand, waiting for her as it had every morning for the past twelve years, the sterling silver frame, the flowered engravings along the sides, containing a four by six photo.  Her father, Xavier and herself, a smiling young girl of six years.  It had been taken a week before the last day her and her brother last saw him, and the most recent anyone in the family had.

Melissa Michaels
Morning, Daddy.

Her fore and middle fingers pressed to her closed lips then to the picture over her father's face.  To this day and after many hours of trying, seeking out the help of professionals, she had yet to have a fully tangible memory of him.  Only faded images of the past, ones in which she could not fully trust, was all that remained.  Her mother was a virtual black hole when it came to anything about him, completely ignoring any questions posed to her or changing the subject to something mother approved.  It was not something Xavier liked to talk about, still in morning of the loss.  He would nod and look away with a hand draped over his eyes.  He would turn cold, becoming an empty shell.  There was so much she wanted to know, so many questions left unanswered for her, but the prospect of causing him pain made her feel disgrace.  It tore at her to see him hurt in such a way, promising herself to never be the source of it.  Over the last year, he had been through enough as it was.

Her mind had begun to drift again, she was allowing it to with her knowing.  She rose to her feet, her strides bring her across the what had now felt to be a cramped room to the reflective surface of the mirror above her dresser.  She brushed the hair away from her face, pulling it behind her ears and gazed into her own eyes.  What was happening to her?  Foolish thoughts.  Impossible thoughts.  It was wrong and she knew it.  Yet she could not purge it from its entrenched position in her heart.

Throughout her formative adolescent years, there had been boyfriends and crushes. He, however, was the only one she had ever truly loved.  For years, these feelings had been pushed to the back of her mind, but now they had resurfaced for a vengeance and would not allow themselves to be ignored.  She had never given herself over to any man before, the one time, her purity had been stripped from her and could not fight him off.  With him though, she wanted it.  She wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close against him, her body crushing on his.  The promise he made to her was bound to bring them closer together in more ways then one, of that much, she was sure.

The thin wrist watch on her dresser ticked the seconds away silently.  Her personal thoughts as well as distractions aside, she had to meet Xavier in a couple hours.  The ink of her contract paperwork was not even dry yet, and she had already been booked in a match.  She did not know the first thing about how to compete in a wrestling match.  Which was why Xavier had been so insistent about this today.  He was not going let her get her ass beat, but there was very little he could do to come to her aid without costing her the match via disqualification.

She was anxious with the anticipation of finally doing it and accomplishing something herself, as well as a cloud of fear.  If she failed, the humiliation would be harsh, almost unbearable.  That was why she needed his help learning.  The fact that Becky Orton's wrist was injured by her psychotic ex-boyfriend did little to assuage her worries of failure.  She was a rookie in the rawest sense of the word, and if unless she pushed the other thoughts aside and concentrate on what her brother had to teach her, her dreams of being successful at this would be shattered.

Still staring at herself in the mirror, she side stepped to her right, her legs crossing close together and now noticing just how much moisture had been caused by dreaming of what he could do to her.  She had been dropping small hints here and there but so far they seem to have gone unnoticed.  Of course they would be.  Or ignored.  His sense of moral values had overridden what he wanted in his heart.  She could feel his eyes fall upon her with the hidden desire, and sooner or later, he would admit it to himself.

She turned away from the mirror moving to the bedroom door connecting to the hall.  She would have to shower, cleaning the smell from her and getting changed in a proper work out attire to do the education she was about to receive justice.  Maybe even create a few dents in the armor

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Scene Two

Melissa's foot eased its pressure from the pedal, the acceleration of the sedan decreased dramatically.  She pumped the brake, tapping it lightly and eased to a stop in front of the garage door ahead.  The ignition flicked off with a turn of the key, quieting the lightly rumble of the engine under the hood.  She reached down into the middle console beside her, pulling out her cell phone and opened it with a click of her thumb.  "Calling Xavier," blink over the white background.

Melissa Michaels
Hey, I'm here... Why?  Where are you?... Aw, you're so trusting.  OK, I promise no wild parties 'til you get back... Love you too, bye.

She flicked the phone closed after he had hung up and slipped it in a pocket of her black with teal striped cotton athletic pants, smiling to herself at the outcome of the quick conversation.  Some way to welcome a little sister, not even being around when she gets here.  No matter, she was going to make it a point to make herself comfortable until Xavier came back.

Her eyes looked up into the rearview mirror, her eyebrows seeming to dominate the small view, and checked the band keeping her hair tied back.  She had spent almost two hours copying herself after year old photographs, trying to mirror the look that bitch had presented.  There was obviously something he liked about it, her "sparkling" personality had nothing to do with the decision to marry, of that much she was sure.  She did not deserve him in the first place, then had the stupidity to leave him when he got tired of  bending over backwards for her.  Today she was going to rekindle the love for her that he had and have it directed towards herself.  The thought of him showing her how to pull off these wrestling moves, his harsh and firm strength gripping her and forcing her into all those awkward positions was more then enough to send that tingling feel up her arms again.  She had watch enough wrestling to know the basic mechanics of the "school boy" roll-up pinning move and knew that if he showed her how to do it along with how to get out of it, his arm coming up between her legs and behind her like that, she would explode right then and there.

A ding sounded above her head when she pulled the door handle, releasing the locking mechanism and opening the door.  The door closed, two bleeps echoed in the large driveway signaling the alarm was armed.  The cement ground underfoot seemed unusually soft, almost rubbery.  It almost felt as if she would bounce back up if she jumped.  She bounded up the stepped walked way, terraced landscaping bordering the approach on both sides leading up to a large open air porch.  The stain cherry wood that hung and embraced the front deck outside the door creating a darkened, quieter environment, as if an invisible barrier had been erected to block out the background sound of the world beyond.

He said he knew he would not return in time to be here when she had said she would, that he had stashed away a key, hidden on the porch here.  She took a few seconds to recall his specific instructions then stepped towards a wooden bench, lifting up the one right side of it.  A wooden cylinder slid from the front leg and thudded onto the reddened floor.  It rolled slightly, one side more so then the other moving in a semicircle before its momentum ended.  A hollow leg, he seriously needs to lay off the old spy movies.  A seam cut across the axis, seeing it lay in the palm of her hand.  It unscrewed with a twist and dumped the contents from inside into her left hand, the only occupant being a standard silver key.

She screwed the two ends back together, holding it in her left hand and the key in the other and used it to unlock the door and let her in.  The inside was completely different then what she last remembered it.  He had told her a month ago that he was planning to start an extensive plan of renovation, completely altering the feel of the home.  He said he wanted nothing to remind him of Riley and the time they had spent there together.  Needless to say, she was pleased with this news.  It meant he was finally forgetting about Riley and wanted her out of his life completely.  The event of his finally filing for the divorce was only the icing on the cake and making it official and legal.

A plastic sheet lay on a far wall, a fresh layer of paint still wet.  The carpet that had been where she now stood in the main hall, continuing on into the living room to her right through a large wooden archway, had been torn up and cast aside, hardwood flooring in its place.  The changes he had made so far were pretty pleasing to her, far exceeding her expectations.

The main room she wanted to see, however, was the bedroom and what he had done with it in Riley's absence from it.  Her running sneakers made not a sound on the new wooden steps of the spiraling staircase that wound it's way up to the second floor.  So far, the entire house seemed very tastefully decorated, yet it was too quiet.  It was as if it was a vacuum, sucking any and all sound into an undetectable void.

The door to the main bedroom, his bedroom was open, allowing her to see in even before entering.  This room it seemed has suffered the most change.  Suffered.  Almost everything had been taken out, almost every piece of furnishing and aesthetics, becoming a dungeon from a bedroom.  The memory of the happiness he had once felt served as a punishment now, a harshness as brutal as the look of the room itself.  To him now, this room must not be connected with pleasure now, but of suffering.  It was not as if it was against his will, this was of his own making.  Melissa now knew the extent to which he was still feeling the shock of his failed marriage had changed his outlook on life, that love was for fools and this room had become so connected with it.  Even after her rape, she had not shut herself down like this, taking it this far.  Her poor brother.

She let her thin fingers find their way to the top of the bed in the middle of the space, sliding her hand across it as she walked to its head.  Her weight pressed into it as she sat down on the edge, sliding back and laying on her side before rolling onto her back.  "Was this his side or hers", she wondered.  Her arms stretched out above her head, crossed at her wrists, reaching almost to the wooden from beyond.  She wanted him here with her now, to feel his touch, the weight of his body on her.

She rolled over onto her right side, pulling her knees up into her chest, bringing them close with her arms wrapped around her calves.  Why did she not just come to him with this?  Was it fear of rejection?  No, not that.  She knew he wanted her, the absence of his sex life now had given her a large window of opportunity.  Yet, he would still allow the morality that had been preached to them both since childhood block his desire.  Yet why did she not allow herself to be held back by such inhibition.  With their father dead and gone, he was the sole father figure she had ever known, the alpha male she had admired so for years.  She was sure though that his will would overcome his conscious and give into the love.  Why would he not?  She was far better for him then Riley ever claimed to be, had always loved him and that would never fail.

Although, she had no delusions of a normal life with him.  Society would look at them with distain, disgust even.  There would always be people who would fear them, fear them for they do not understand the bond which they share.  Proclaimed the Devil's Children simply because religious dogma condemns them.  With all this, she would not be deterred, however, for she intended to walk through Hell itself for the brother, the man she loved.

The roar of an engine was in the distance somewhere outside, coming closer.  It sounded as if it was now in the driveway she had left her car.  A car door was slammed shut and now she was sure, he was finally back and her waiting and day dreaming was over.

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Scene Three

Her hair had become a mop of sweat at least an hour ago.  Her eyes caught the clock on the wall, trying to figure the time, her sense of direction lost with her head bent at this angle.  Her judgment of time had been approximately correct, for over two hours now, Xavier had been going over various simple maneuvers for her to memorize for her to use whenever the chance presented itself in her wrestling matches in the near future.  At first, she was slow to grasp the strategy, the psychology.  The point was knowing what your opponent was going to do before he or she even knew it themselves.  Scout them out and learn their patterns and be ready to interrupt the sequence flawlessly.

She lay on her right side, her left arm held behind her back in his grip with him straddling her side and bending over, forcing his forearm into the side of her neck.  Her arms, back and neck were killing her, the muscles cramping up but she had to stay focused and pay attention to his voice.

Xavier Michaels
Now what do you know about Becky that you can use against her in the ring?

She winced from the pain she was feeling, clenching her teeth, letting out a hissing sigh before she answered.

Melissa Michaels
Her wrist.  It's sprained or something from when her psycho ex snuck in her room and tried to fuck her.

Xavier Michaels
Exactly.  Remember what I said about strategy.  If you see that the other person is hurt, zero in on that part of the body and get them to the point where they can't take it anymore.  If you don't have that much power to beat them unconscious, it'll be easier to wear them down and make them give up with a tough enough submission hold.

Her brother tighten his grip on her wrist, twisting it a little more at the awkward angle.  She let out a small cry pass her lips followed by a couple deep breaths.

Xavier Michaels
Now, when that bell rings, you focus on her wrist and don't let up.  That's her weakness and if you exploit it to its full potential, bend, twist it, snap the damn thing off if you have to until she's screaming that she gives up.

Melissa bit her lower lip, shaking her head to get a length of hair that come loose from her eyes.  She lips her crackling lips, attempting to bring some moisture back to them.

Melissa Michaels
OK, got it.

Xavier lifted his arm from her neck and let go of her wrist.  She held her wrist in her other hand, rubbing it and painfully twisting and bending it, trying to restore some feeling back to it.

Melissa Michaels
Ah shit, that hurt.

Xavier Michaels
If it hurt you that much, just think how much it's going to hurt her.

Melissa Michaels
Good point.

He brought some of his weight off her and rolled her over flat on to her back and went back down on top of her on her waist.  His hands strong against her shoulders as he held down down against the rubber matting between them and the concrete floor.

Xavier Michaels
When pinning, the basic things you need to remember are that the ref has to count the pin and it can't interrupted, their shoulders have to be on the mat the whole time and if you have to be on top of them.  It doesn't even matter if it's just an arm, it still counts.  Understand?

The position they were in had just dawned on her and the eroticism was not lost on her.  He could pin her any time.  She tried to arch her back slightly, her waist coming up against his crotch and his dick hidden behind the mask of sweatpants.  She looked up at him, giving a sly smile before answering.

Melissa Michaels
Yeah, got it down pat.

Xavier Michaels
Good, I think that'll do for now.  With this, you should be pretty able to come out of this one on top.

He lifted his weight from her waist and bend over her.  He took her by the hands and pulled her up to her feet.  Their bodies came together, her breasts crashing against his stomach.  She gazed up at her big brother with the usual deep eyes, looking past his and seeing him as few people ever do.

Melissa Michaels
Thanks for all this, Xavier.  I'd be lost without you.

His palm lay on top of her head, stroking her hair, interlacing his fingers into it.  He smiled down at her his usual loving smile.

Xavier Michaels
We've been over this.  Now you should go take a shower, you're covered in sweat.

Only if you'll come with me, she thought.  She would not dare be so bold, however, keeping the thought to herself.  She had just not realized that she was anything but glamorous and flattering at the moment, dripping with the perspiration.

Melissa Michaels
Yeah, you're right about that.  I'll be out in a few.

They parted contact and she went to the stairs.  While she bounded up the stairs from the basement, she wondered if his eyes had deigned to fall on the tight ass she prided as one of her biggest sexual draws.  She was sure of it, a sense of heat growing on her posterior.