Incest HALLOWED SISTER

[neerathemall]

Shelly's lithe form moved with grace, smacking the ball over the net so hard that the girls on the other side backed away and let it drop. The ball bounced off the floor and into the back wall. The teammates on her side of the net jumped up and down, shouting, giving each other high fives. Apparently, they had just won the scrimmage game. Several of them gave Shelly hugs.

I smiled internally, knowing that Shelly would be happy but humble. As the excitement settled down and the coach finished his post-game wrap-up, they began to head to the girls' locker room. Shelly scanned the bleachers and caught my eye. I nodded and waved with one lazy finger. She gave me an electric megawatt smile and waved back.

My heart did a little flip, but I regained my composure and motioned to her that I'd meet her at the car. My hands gripped the imaginary steering wheel and moved back and forth in a crude pantomime for Shelly's benefit, before I pointed in the direction of the parking lot. She nodded her understanding, then turned and sauntered toward the locker room. I stood riveted to the spot, my eyes locked on those tight, form-fitting black shorts - and trying not to picture what was underneath them.

Jason Mraz was happily crooning "I'm Yours" on my car radio when Shelly opened the rear passenger door to throw her gym bag in the back seat. Then she climbed into the front passenger seat to join me. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and a light jacket over her uniform.

"Shoulda showered," I teased as she buckled up. "Eau de skunk does you no favors."

"Shut it, loser," she shot back. Her taut smile disclosed the humor beneath.

As I put my Ford Fusion in reverse, I made a mock point of airing out the odor. I rolled down the electric windows and vigorously waved my hands. Shelly rolled her eyes. I laughed.

"I was thinking about taking you for ice cream, but I'm not sure I want to be associated with that smell," I taunted.

"S'alright," she said, "I don't wanna smell me either. Just didn't want to get nakey in front of all the other girls. I'll shower at home."

Nakey. Shower. Lord, help me!

I pulled to a stop at the exit from the school parking lot.

"Now or never," I said. "Ice cream or not?"

"Not. I need some real food before dessert."

I turned the blinker to the left, heading for home rather than turning right toward the Baskin Robbins.

"Too bad," I teased. "Ice cream would help to fatten you up."

"Like I really need fattening up...." she said.

"Somebody's fishing for a compliment," I replied.

"I weigh 135, Steve," she answered.

"All muscle," I said. "Plus, you're 5'10". You're underweight. You could easily weigh 15 more pounds and still look good."

Shelly shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I... I look good?"

"Well, let's just say you look better than you smell," I joked.

"Doofus!" she laughed, then flicked my right kneecap with her thumb and forefinger.

We chatted the rest of the way home, mostly about volleyball and her classes at school. I hesitated to bring up the conversation I'd had with Pastor Steve. I figured it could wait until we could sit across a table and look each other in the eye. I knew she needed to see my body language and not just hear my words. If only a certain part of my anatomy will avoid a more intimate kind of body language....

* * * * * *

Shelly ran up the stairs when we got home. I took my time, reaching the top of the stairs just in time to see her toss her gym bag into her bedroom and dash toward the bathroom. The baggy sweatpants were not revealing enough to lure me into following too closely.

"I'll take the shower after you," I hollered after her. "Leave me some hot water!"

"It might take it all to get the stink off!" she shouted merrily. I couldn't help but smile at my sister's goofy sense of humor.

Within seconds, I heard the water running.

I went to my bedroom and tossed my keys and wallet on the desk. Flinging my jacket toward the closet, I lay back on the bed. A million thoughts were flitting through my mind, most of them related to my sister. And that, I realized, was the problem.

I'm blood-related to my sister. If she were any other girl in the world and I knew her the way I knew Shelly, I'd be doing everything I could to get her to go out with me. But if she were any other girl in the world, I almost certainly wouldn't know here the way I did. Talk about a paradox!

As I lay there thinking, I suddenly heard a voice. A female voice. Singing. It was coming from the shower. Of course, it was Shelly. And she was singing beautifully. A hymn. With the voice of an angel, she was lifting up a powerful praise anthem: "How Deep the Father's Love For Us" by Stuart Townend.

Shelly's faith was probably the thing that attracted me most to her. Sure, she was beautiful, athletic, kind and intelligent. But she was a person of genuine faith and conviction. That's what