The Old Country

He knew that the type of people he sought could be found in casinos and at racecourses. But those people were inveterate gamblers. They had the instincts that he needed, but not the knowledge or understanding. And they couldn’t be taught, that was the tragedy of their lives.

So, he approached his hiring strategy from the other direction. Strait-laced university recruitment fairs were his new favourite. Here he found nothing but earnest, able drones, their heads full of the knowledge he needed. That was fine, but almost every single one of them lacked the killer instinct he desired. But sometimes, like an old-school gold prospector he could find what he wanted, a nugget. A student from humble beginnings usually. One who had to fight and scrap for everything they had achieved. Who was driven to succeed, much like himself.

Unfortunately, the class of 89 at Monash University Business School was a bust. No one even came close to what he was looking for. And that was bad. His expansion plans had already been on hold for six months. Without a new trader for his European desk that situation was set to continue. With a sigh, he got up and headed for the exit.

His flight back to Sydney wasn’t until lunchtime the next day. On a whim, he stopped at the refreshment table and asked for a glass of red wine. The kid standing there poured him a mouthful and offered him the glass.

Very professional. Hmm, that’s pretty good. Ooh, strong finish too. Wow.

“Hey that’s not bad,” he said. “What winery is that from?”

The boy poured him a generous glass before answering.

“It’s a new start-up from up north,” he said. “I’ve been catering these events all week. I’m introducing their product to prospective investors.”

“How’s that been going?” Mike asked. The wine was excellent, astonishingly so, even.

“Very well,” the young man said. “Its quality speaks for itself, but most people see wine as a fad. If it was a brewery though. Wow, I’d be fighting them off with a stick. But they’re all wrong, their thinking is muddled and old fashioned. We have the perfect climate here and the growers are learning every season. Now is the time to get on board. In two years, it will be too late, and the supply will have been consolidated.”

“What’s your cut, kid? For doing all this promo work,” Mike asked, savouring the rich flavours on his tongue.

“I get a full share for every thousand dollars of investment I pull in. No point in getting paid once when I can get paid forever. Especially when I believe in the product so much.”

“I’m Mike Ritchie and I’m intrigued…?” he said, leaving the question hanging.

“Mateo Martin, Mr Ritchie,” he replied. “I saw your presentation, remarkably interesting. I graduate next year and plan to become your competition.”

Ritchie returned Mateo’s gaze levelly.

Cocky little bastard, isn’t he? I like him already. Hmm…

“How much more investment are you looking for Mateo?” he asked out loud.

“My advice?” Mateo asked. “Come up to the vineyard tomorrow and buy the whole damn thing. This stuff is liquid gold. There’s going to be an export market in a few years. It’s going to be worth millions. Imagine if we got it to market in England. The Poms would buy it just to piss the Frenchies off.”

Mike laughed. This lad was extremely impressive, forthright, and confident. Selling to a salesman is the toughest gig in the world and he was a natural.

“Can you take me up there tomorrow?” Mike asked.

“Where are you staying?” Mateo asked.

He wrote down the details of the man’s hotel, arranging to pick him up there in the morning. Mateo was unaware that he had just had the most important conversation of his life.

++++

December 1989

It was Christmas and Francesca was about to turn fourteen. When they arrived home after her last day of school, she and Jorge were feeling low. Mateo had not replied to Frankie’s last two letters and there had been no answer to their recent phone calls. They had both hoped that he would come home for the holidays, but it seemed not.

As Jorge parked his car, Francesca checked the mailbox.

“Papa, Papa, there is a letter from Mateo,” she shrieked as she raced up the path to the house. Jorge looked at the envelope when she handed it to him. The address was handwritten, not typed. And it was addressed to him, not Frankie. As he slipped his finger under the flap, he saw the postmark, Sydney.

“What does it say, Daddy?” Francesca squealed. “Is he coming home? Is he?”

“No, my sweet he is not,” Jorge said in a gentle voice as he read. His daughter’s face fell, as yet another disappointment bit deep. “But we are going to visit him.”

He handed her the two aeroplane tickets as he continued to read. The letter was short but heartfelt.

“Father, forgive me, for I am ashamed.

“I have regretted every day of the last three years when I could not be with you and Frankie. But I was brought up at the hands of a stubborn old Portuguese goat. His love and support have given me unbreakable determination. And that has driven me to achieve what I now have.

“I have left Monash University, my degree complete. I decided not to stay another year to complete the honours program. I have achieved my goal, a job in a brokerage firm. It is called Ritchie Investments. Our office is here in Sydney, where I now live.

“I have sold the Melbourne business… to Francesca, for one dollar. The share certificate is enclosed. I hope I can collect the consideration from her if you come to visit at Christmas. I have a new apartment overlooking the harbour, with plenty of room for you both.

“I have much to make up for with you and her. I hope that this can be the first step on that journey. Please call me on the number below if you can come. Or even if you can’t.

“Your ever-loving son,

“Mateo xxx”

“Papa, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Francesca sounded frantic.

“I am crying, my darling because this letter is from the old Mateo. Here, you read it,” he said handing it to her.

After a moment she spun and raced towards the house.

“Frankie, where are you going?” Jorge called after her.

“To ring my stupid brother, Papa,” was her laughing response.

++++

December 1989

The view was incredible. Mateo’s apartment was on the twenty-seventh floor, looking out across Sydney Harbour. The famous opera house and bridge took centre stage. But the waterway itself was more fascinating because it was so incredibly busy. Francesca was pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to soak it all in.

Mateo was blown away by the view too, but not of the harbour. It was but a dog turd in the presence of his sister. A little child no more, Francesca had bloomed into a coltish teen. Tall and toned, her figure was the match of an elite swimmer or athlete. Her pretty, childish features had matured and strengthened. There were signs of the acne that their father had fretted about, but it was not obvious.

When he had opened the door that morning it was a stranger that had cannoned into him. Her shriek of joy had confirmed her identity, however. He had held her tight, revelling in the sounds and smells of her. Long repressed memories were triggered, recollections of pure fun and laughter. After a moment though she had pushed past him to explore his home.

Mateo’s reunion with his father had been rather more poignant and meaningful.

“Father, welcome,” he had said, gesturing for Jorge to enter.

“Fuck that son, come here,” the older man had growled, wrapping his son in a bear hug. Mateo had allowed himself to be held and squeezed. He had missed them, he just hadn’t known it.

Their conversations that week were a throwback to a better, long lamented time. Stories of the old apartment in Fremantle, of Bickley and of Mama. They toured the city in Mateo’s Ford Falcon, now fully restored. They ate sushi and hamburgers. Mateo even took them to a Portuguese restaurant. Jorge had spent half the evening reminiscing with the owner who had grown up on the Algarve himself.

But as even the best of times will do, it ended. It barely seemed like a day before Mateo was waving them goodbye at the airport. Work willing, this would become a regular tradition he hoped.

Ritchie Investments however had other ideas.

++++

Jorge felt re-energised by their Sydney trip. But for Francesca, it had been a life-changing moment.

Mateo held a vaunted place in her mind. The pedestal she had built for him reached up beyond the clouds, beyond even the stars. No matter how inattentive he was or how thoughtless, she loved him completely.

Loved him, loved him, loved him.

He had protected her as a little girl, at the very point where her personality was beginning to develop. Without meaning to she had built her entire existence around him. In her childish way, she had assumed that their lives would carry on in the same vein forever.

But of course, they had not and that had been an excruciating lesson for her. While her girlish worldview had crumbled, Mateo’s pedestal had not.

She had stopped wearing the bracelet with his name on it earlier that year. Not because of any perceived slight, but because she couldn’t stop touching it. Touching it and thinking about Mateo. She tended to become distracted at school, drifting off in lessons and making a fool of herself. Removing the constant reminder of him had seemed the only solution.

When her father had noticed she had made a supreme effort to put it back on and ignore it. It had worked, mostly. There were still moments when she would drift away and… wonder.

Wonder where he was and what he was doing. Goodness, she had often wondered what he would look like now. Her mental image of him didn’t quite include a halo, but it wasn’t far off.

And now she knew for sure. She had been to his home, slept there, and learned about his life. She had found feminine shampoos and lotions in his bathroom. He hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend, but Francesca was intrigued. What sort of woman would be worthy of her brother? Someone pretty special she thought.

She had never imagined him with such short hair either, but it was perfect. He was too pale though. Growing up in Perth they had always been nut-brown as children, and it had seemed normal. But the skin cancer advertisements on TV were much harder hitting these days. Perhaps Mateo was right to stay out of the sun. Frankie resolved to follow his example as she always had.

She had overdosed on Mateo in the last week, perhaps even enough to cover six months apart. But not three years, unfortunately.

++++

May 1990

Ritchie Investments had a reputation. They were aggressive, taking risks that other brokers would not. They were willing to take positions that only lasted days, sometimes even hours. They dipped in and out of every market, like a bee searching for nectar. And more often than not they found the source of that sweet treat.

Their secret? Hard bloody work.

It was that simple. Mike and Mateo split the day into two twelve-hour shifts. Their office operated day and night. There was Mike’s dayshift from 8 AM and Mateo’s night shift from 8 PM. That worked perfectly for their main markets. Overnight Mateo focused on the Dow Jones in New York and the LSE in London. He had a team of four junior researchers in an office on Wall Street and the same on Tavistock Street in London.. They scoured the US news wires, papers, and TV stations, for business anecdotes and rumours.

Mateo only needed the vaguest hint of a story to make his trading decisions. He was decisive and ruthless. If he took an investment decision, he was all in, betting the farm. But he got out just as quick. Often, the market was only just beginning to digest his trades when he settled his positions and moved on.

Their volume wasn’t close to that of the big players, but their profit margins were miles ahead. As their client base grew, so did their capital and their clout.

Mike concentrated on his traditional markets in Hong Kong and Tokyo. He spoke Japanese and like Mateo had his own team of people on site in other cities. He had supervised Mateo’s early trades, before taking off his training wheels. It had not taken long, the boy was a genius. Sometimes when he checked the previous night’s trading summary he had to look again. Mateo was making double the money that he was.

And Mateo loved it. He had negotiated a profit share with Mike. His new boss has been delighted because he knew that it took years to become successful. Unless your name was Mateo Martin, then it took six weeks.

Mateo earned his first million dollars in six months, his second in three.

He was hooked, he had found his heroin, his purpose in life. All else was secondary. Food, health, relationships, even family. They were just background noise. At his desk, they faded into silence in his mind.

Years passed. The millions piled up. And the world moved on.

++++

January 1994

Francesca graduated from high school at the top of her class. She was still only seventeen, although her eighteenth birthday was mere days away. She had decided not to rush straight into college, but to take a year out beforehand.

Jorge was delighted. He would have a year with her before she left for college too. He was hoping that she would choose UWA and stay at home with him. But Frankie seemed set on following her brother’s example. She was dead set on going to Monash Business School. It made no sense to him, she could have her pick of any school. She wasn’t interested in finance, not in the way that Mateo was.

But she was Frankie, and she knew best. Discussion was not her forte, decisiveness and stubbornness were. But through the first week of January, she stayed at home with her father. Until she announced her latest stubborn decision.

“Papa, this gap year is boring. So, I’m going back to high school. Not full time, just for a couple of subjects. Things that will be useful for my degree. There’s the new computer lab that I’m fascinated by. I want to learn about computer science before university. Mr McLaughlin says I can be a teaching assistant and earn some money too. Isn’t that great?”

A fait accompli my dear, quelle surprise.

But in all honesty, Jorge couldn’t see a flaw in her plan. He had been terrified that she would decide to jet off and travel the world. But here she was, continuing her education and earning money too. What a joy his daughter was, he thought, for a moment anyway.

“But first,” Francesca continued. “I am going to visit my brother. I need to clear the air with him and find out what we did to annoy him so. Do you know when his last letter was? My birthday, a year ago.

“When we visited him in Sydney that time, I thought everything was back to normal. But since then, it has been radio silence. Well, I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

“OK, honey,” Jorge said. “I’ll call him and make plans. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. He will probably want to pay for your ticket.”

“No, Papa,” was her harsh response. “It must be a complete surprise, an ambush. I want him to speak with me honestly. I want the truth, not some story that he has cooked up. Surprise is the only way to guarantee that that is what I get.”

As always, she has thought things through, Jorge. Far better than you ever could, you silly old fart. Should I offer to go with her? No, she wants to do this alone. OK, she’s eighteen in a week. I shall give her my blessing. Well, mostly…

“You are right of course, my darling,” he replied. “When do we leave?”

“I would rather do this on my own, Papa,” she replied. “Do you mind? This rift with Mateo has weighed on me for a long time. I need to talk with him, a lot. If he doesn’t mind, I plan to stay with him for weeks not just a few days.”

Você é mais sábia do que seu pai, garotinha.

But Francesca did not speak his mother tongue much anymore, so he continued out loud. “You are wise my dear, and brave. I hope that you can reach your brother. I have tried but he lives in such a different world now. I fear that it might make things worse.”

“How could it be any worse, Papa?” was all that she needed to say to convince him.

“Great, now I just need to make some preparations. I’ll fly there on my birthday,” Frankie said with her trademark grin. “That should get his attention.”

Please Maria, for me. Don’t let this blow up in her face.

++++

Francesca alighted from the taxi outside Mateo’s building. It had been a long trip, but she didn’t feel tired. She was excited and not a little nervous. The taxi driver offered to carry her case inside, but it wasn’t heavy, so she politely declined. Picking it up herself she headed to the concierge desk.

“Hi,” she said to the man on duty. “I’m here to visit Mateo Martin in 2711.”

The doorman looked her up and down.

This fuckin’ guy gets the hottest friggin’ women in town. Every fuckin’ night. How the hell does the bastard do it?

“Certainly, miss. Is he expecting you?” he asked politely.

“No, not at all,” Frankie giggled. “It’s going to be a big surprise.”

I fuckin’ bet it will. Jesus, I wonder what he’s paying her for tonight? $1,000? Probably more. Worth every cent I would think.

“I see,” he replied, trying to remain professional. “Well, we are supposed to call ahead for unscheduled guests. What name should I give?”

“Oh, come on, please,” Frankie wheedled. “I’m his baby sister and it’s my birthday. I’ve come all the way from Perth to see him. Can’t I just go up and surprise him? Please?”

I just bet you are, luv. You’ll be calling him brother before the night is over, probably daddy too.

“Erm, do you have any ID that might confirm that miss…?” he asked.

“Francesca. Francesca da Silva Monteiro Martin,” she replied, fishing in her bag. “Here’s my driving license.”

Fuck me, it’s true. I guess he will get a rest tonight after all. But that means she’s fair game. Time to turn on the old charm, Robbie lad.

“Thank you, that’s excellent,” he said handing the license back. “If you could just sign in here, I’ll escort you to the lift.”

“It’s fine, I’ve been here before, thank you,” Frankie said with a smile. With that, she spun on her heel and headed through the concourse.

Smooth mate, very fuckin’ smooth. Look at that fuckin’ ass though. Sister or not I bet he’s tempted. That lucky, lucky bastard.

Standing at her brother’s door, Frankie’s excitement began to feel a lot more like nervousness. There was a pulsing, insistent pressure in her belly, an urgent, sensation of… something. Taking a deep breath, she decided to ignore it though. She had come all this way and she had a plan, she was confident.

Well, I was confident until that creep downstairs ogled me like a sleazy stripper. Come on Frankie, it’s Mat. He loves you. He’s been a bit distracted… for the last three years but underneath all that he’s still your bro. It’s time. Fuck, it’s well past time.

Before she could think about it anymore, her hand was knocking on the door. There were sounds from inside, grumbling she thought. Then she heard the rattling of several locks before the door was flung open. It was Mat, he was there.

++++

Who the hell is that? Robbie never called up. Probably some daft old bat has got lost. Oh well, time to turn on the old fake charm once more.

Mateo strode to his front door and threw it open, ready to do his duty as a concerned citizen and neighbour. But the empathic words died on his tongue as he stared at the girl who stood there smiling at him.

That is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No ifs, ands

or buts. She’s number one. End of story.

“Mattie,” she squealed. “Let me in quick, I’m bursting for a pee.”

She pushed past him, leaving him staring at her small suitcase.

Mattie? No one calls me Mattie. Apart from Franc… Oh, fuck me, no way. Frankie? It can’t be.

But the pieces were falling into place. The short, bleached blonde pixie haircut had thrown him off. But the height and the smile were hers. And of course, the piercing green eyes he belatedly realised. It was his sister. Even her voice had changed, but not much. It was definitely her.

My baby sister is a fucking supermodel. How the bloody hell did that happen?

He carried the case inside and left it outside the bathroom door. He could hear the toilet flush and the taps running.

“There are no towels in here, Mateo,” rang out Frankie’s voice. “Did your girlfriend take them to the launderette for you?”

“Shit, I put them on to wash earlier,” he called back. “Hang on, I’ll get a clean one. Sorry, Sis.”

He came back with three fresh towels and knocked on the door. Frankie came out and took the top one. She dried her hands and the door handle before handing it back to him.

“Doing your own laundry now?” she asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Papa will be impressed. Are you cooking these days too? I’m hungry. The food on the plane was pure crap. It’s lovely to see you by the way. Any chance of a hug for your long-lost sister?”

Mateo let the towels fall to the tile floor and wrapped her up in a tight embrace.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he said, rocking her from side to side. “Until the pee thing. Even then it took me a while. You look fantastic, the hair especially, I love it.”

“Thank you Mat,” Frankie replied, her voice muffled. Her face was pressed against his chest, and she had no intention of moving. “It’s been short for a while now. It’s much easier getting my swim cap on and off. I wanted it to look more striking, so I went blonde. They have more fun, don’t you know? You look pretty healthy too. A bit pale but I guess that’s what you get for working in an office all day. So, am I in the spare room then?”

“Erm, say what now?” Mateo asked, holding her out at arm’s length. “Where’s Papa? Does he not want the spare?”

“He’s back in Bickley, silly,” Frankie giggled. “I’ve got you all to myself this time. Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, brilliant,” Mateo said as he hugged her close again. His mind was working overtime as he tried to think of all the consequences of her visit.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Frankie asked as she extricated herself from his arms. “Fancy helping me celebrate my birthday?”

“Fuck off,” Mateo scoffed before his memory began to connect the dots. “Seriously? Oh, Sis, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. Yes, we’ll go out. Have a meal and some champagne even. Wait, can you drink now? Are you eighteen?”

“I think yes shall suffice for all that lot, dearest brother,” Frankie said with a smile. “Do you mind if I have a shower? I can’t go out smelling of the plane now, can I?”

“No, of course not. Yes, have a shower by all means. Do you need your case?” Mateo asked.

“Does your lady friend still keep her shampoo and stuff here! I could use that if it’s alright with you,” Francesca teased.

“It’s just for emergencies, Frankie. It’s not like they… like she lives here or anything,” Mateo responded, just about catching his slip.

“Cool, I’ll take these towels. Could I borrow a robe please?” she asked.

Mateo ducked into his bedroom and grabbed his bathrobe from the back of the door. “Here, yes use mine. I’ll nip in after you, so don’t bother cleaning up. Would sushi be good? Or French maybe? Or pasta even?”

“You choose, Bro,” Frankie laughed over her shoulder, “it’s your treat after all, isn’t it?”

As the bathroom door lock clicked over, Mateo tried to gather his thoughts.

Prioritise Mateo. Jennifer is coming. Gotta call and cancel that. Do I need to call Dad? No, tomorrow is fine. No, now. He will be worried if she’s been travelling all day. A reservation? This late on a Friday? I’ll see if Robbie can help me out. I’ll have to give him that bottle of Lagavulin I got from Mike.

So, he called his date, Jennifer who was most assuredly not impressed. “Your sister? Try coming up with something a bit more believable next time Mat,” she had squawked at him.

Robbie at the front desk assured him that he could get him a nice table somewhere posh. The concierge guys in Mateo’s building got well tipped by the residents. This meant that they could share the wealth with the local restaurant maître ds. Finally, he called his father at home. He was embarrassed to realise that he needed to look up the number.

Jorge was glad to hear from his son. But he explained that Frankie had already called him from the payphone downstairs. Mateo noted that they were going out for a birthday dinner and would call him back the next day.

When he hung up, Mat sat there trying to work out when he had last telephoned his father. He couldn’t remember doing it from this apartment, where he had lived for more than three years.

Three years? Where the hell did all that time go? It feels like I’ve been here for about three weeks.

++++

Under the scalding shower, Francesca was hyperventilating. She had breezed into Mateo’s apartment on a wing and a prayer. But when she had locked the bathroom door, her adrenaline-fueled bravado had evaporated. Now, as the searing water washed away the grime of a long day of travel, she didn’t know what to do next. Her heart had skipped a beat when he opened the door. It was him of course, but a different him.

He had changed a lot since she had last seen him. She had said he looked good when they embraced, but that was just an automatic response. On reflection, she realised that he didn’t look well at all, quite the opposite in fact.

His eyes were sunken, and his hair was greasy. While he had been pale for a Perthian the last time she had seen him, now he would be pale for a bloody Scotsman. He looked tired and drawn, and Francesca was worried about him. She decided on a change of tack. She had planned to come here and bully Mateo into admitting that he had lost touch with his family. But that had been based on the assumption that he had chosen to drift out of their lives. The way he looked now suggested that the decision might not have been entirely his.

It’s time for Plan B, whatever the hell that might be…

She stepped out of the shower stall and dried off. The shampoo she had used wasn’t a brand she knew but it left her hair feeling fabulous. The same could be said of the moisturizing lotion she spread on her arms and legs. Pulling on the oversized robe she emerged back into the apartment. Mateo was waiting for her.

“I wish you had told me you were coming, Frankie,” he said. He was pacing back and forth. “I have a busy weekend ahead, there’s a big deal going down and I might need to work.”

“I’m sorry, Mateo,” she said in a tiny voice. “I haven’t seen you for so long and it’s my eighteenth and I thought you would be happy to see me and…”

He cut her off in mid-flow with another hug. He stroked her hair, marvelling at its sheen. Catching himself, he let her go and led her into the living area.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked. “I’ve got beer in the fridge. Maybe some white wine too, let me check.”

“It’s fine Mattie, maybe some water? I get very dry on the plane,” Francesca replied. She was taking in the incredible view, marvelling at the throngs of people, cars, and boats.

“I put your case in the spare room, Frankie,” Mateo said. “I’m going to shower. If the phone rings it will be Robbie from the front desk. He’s organising the restaurant for us. Take a note of the reservation, I’ll be out in two ticks.”

“Take your time,” Francesca said. “And don’t forget conditioner on that hair of yours.”

He hurried off as she stared out across the city. The phone rang a few minutes later and she picked it up to answer. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice squawked down the line at her.

“And just so you know Mateo Martin, I was going to do anal with you tonight. All of your nasty little dreams were going to come true with me. I hope your sister takes you up her arse because I certainly won’t. Fuck you, Mateo. We could have been great together. Don’t call me again, I’m going to find a real man. Fuck you, asshole.”

The line went dead before Francesca could even speak, never mind process the tirade.

Oops, sorry about that Mattie. I didn’t mean to ruin your plans. Nasty little dreams, eh? That’s not something that baby sisters are supposed to know about. He-he, I’ll just file that away until the most embarrassing possible moment.

She moved into the spare bedroom and opened her case. She didn’t know what sort of restaurant they would be going to, probably somewhere fancy. Her clothes were all pretty basic, jeans, shorts, t-shirts, and the like. She had brought one summer dress with her, a flowery yellow one. Holding it up she was thankful that it hadn’t wrinkled too badly on the trip. Shrugging off the robe she slipped into her special Wonder-Bra.

It did exactly what it promised, turning her barely C cup breasts into perky D’s. As she admired its handiwork in the full-length mirror, the phone rang once more. She scurried out of the bedroom, not wanting to miss their reservation. It was the concierge she had met downstairs. He introduced himself as Robbie and confirmed their reservation at Nakagami for 8 PM. Francesca thanked him, having noted the address. He told her that he had also arranged a taxi to take them there.

On her way back to the bedroom, Mateo came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He stared and she screamed. Her hands flew to her crotch but to Francesca, it was all happening in slow motion.

“Don’t look, Mateo,” she screeched, before running past him and slamming her bedroom door.

Mateo stood stock still, stunned. His mouth hung open as his brain laboured to remember every exquisite detail. The flare of her hips, the cute belly button, and the sparse, curly pubes. But mostly his focus had been on the tiny pink folds that had peeped out at him from between her thighs. They had only been visible for a split second, but he thought it was a memory he would take to his grave.

Then as his conscious mind caught up to his emotional one, he began to panic. He ran to her door, knocking softly.

“Frankie, I’m sorry,” he said, voice plaintive. “It was an accident, honest. I didn’t see anything. I mostly looked at your bra.” He hoped that was safer ground.

“Oh really?” Frankie called back between sobs. “What colour is it then?”

Fuck, I have no idea. The only colour I saw was perfect, luscious pink. Shut up you pervert. You didn’t see anything. You will remember nothing. Understood? Promise?

“Frankie, darling. I didn’t mean it, forgive me, please,” he pleaded.

“Go away,” Frankie grunted. “Get dressed and we’ll forget it ever happened. Our reservation is for somewhere called Nakagami at eight. The taxi will pick us up outside. Oh, and your girlfriend says you missed out on anal sex tonight. I don’t think she wants you to call her again either. I guess that’s what you get for being such a perv.”

Frankie was sitting on the bed, still shaking. Not with rage or anger or fear, but with tingling, sexual excitement. Her immediate reaction had been one of shame and embarrassment. It was normal for anyone caught in such a position by a sibling, she thought. But as soon as she slammed the door and sat down on the bed, the true nature of her feelings became apparent.

She was turned on.

Mattie had seen her bare and she had liked it. It was shameful and wrong, but her body’s reaction could not be denied. She was wet, her budding nipples hard and sensitive. Those brief seconds of exposure had been the most exciting of her life. It was so confusing. Frankie had very little experience with boys. A few movie dates, with hand holding, and kissing were about as far as it went. She touched herself at night in the safety of her bed, but she had never felt like this.

This was new information. A secret door had been opened onto a brand-new world. She was standing on the threshold, desperate to step through, but terrified of what lay beyond. In her mind, the imaginary door swung closed, cutting off the intriguing view. She was safe on this side still, but now she knew it was there and she could feel its pull. With an effort, she found some plain cotton panties and slipped them on. Her sundress followed and she chose her strappy sandals. Her hair needed only a small blob of mousse and she was ready.

With a deep breath, she went back out into the apartment. Mateo’s bedroom door was closed so she went to the fridge and poured out some wine. Her hand was shaking as the bottle clinked off the rim of the glass. A big swallow calmed her nerves, as the delicious warmth suffused her belly.

Go easy girl, you haven’t eaten since breakfast. You can’t get drunk and start flashing your panties… yet!

She giggled at the ridiculous thought and sipped more wine. On reflection it had been a little funny, she thought. The kind of coincidence that happened in farcical comedy films. Mel Brooks or Peter Sellers would have loved it. They were brother and sister, there wasn’t anything sexual between them, it wasn’t possible. It was a little embarrassing but nothing to get upset about. Everything would be fine.

At that moment, Mateo appeared in a very sophisticated looking tuxedo. He was pulling nervously at his cuffs, trying not to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Mattie,” she said. “It was a silly accident, quite funny when you think about it. I bet we’ll be laughing about it by the end of the evening. It will all be forgotten once I get my turn to see you the same way.”

What the fuck, Frankie? What are you saying? You had it all under control and now it’s a disaster again.

“You’ll be lucky,” Mateo said with a cute smile.

Cute? Frankie, I mean it, button this stuff up right now.

“Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to run around the place in just a bra,” he teased. “But I guess you never know. Are you sure it’s OK? I was so shocked I don’t even remember anything anyway,” he said diffidently.

“It’s fine, brother,” Frankie replied. “It wasn’t how I pictured our first meeting for three years, but at least the ice is well and truly broken now. Wine?”

“Oh god yes, I thought you’d never ask,” he said with a smile. She filled another glass and they toasted to family, fun, and the future.

From then on, their conversation returned to more conventional topics. Papa, school, her university plans, and Mateo’s work. He seemed so wrapped up in what he was doing, but Francesca didn’t fully understand it. To her, it sounded like grown men playing cards over the phone. Bluffing and betting with other peoples’ money, tons of it.

His ears pricked up when she mentioned the computer lab at school. He asked her if she had an email address.

“Yes, but I can’t do anything with it,” she replied. “I don’t know anyone else who has one, apart from the other kids at school. Any time we’re on a computer we’re all right there together. Why do you ask anyway?”

“That’s my big project at work. Until recently I worked overnight on the US and UK markets. But for the past six months, I’ve been pushing Mike to computerise our operation. Finally, he has tasked me with looking at it seriously. If we can code up all of our intel in a way that allows us to cross-reference and see it all at once? We’ll clean up. At the moment my guys in New York and London have to read newspapers and watch TV all day. They must guess what is important, what I’ll be interested in. They’re good, but they’re not me, or Mike.

“So, things get missed, big opportunities slip by. But if they stopped being analysts and became typists then I could see everything. I could do my work with full information, not just what they can boil down into a phone call. We could employ fifty temps to do that for what we’re paying our five analysts over there.”

“That seems a bit harsh on those guys,” Francesca said, frowning. “They’re losing their jobs to a bunch of glorified typists.”

“That’s just it Frankie, they’re not,” Mateo replied. He was animated now, Frankie thought. The old Mateo sparkle had returned to his eyes. “They don’t have the experience that Mike and I do, but they’re not dumbasses either. The information collated on the computers will be available to everyone. So, we let them specialise, allow them to zone in on the markets they know, where they are the experts. Mike and I do the big picture stuff, the other guys work at the margins. Together we cover all the bases.”

“But won’t the big companies just copy you? Take your idea and do it themselves?” Francesca asked.

“No doubt,” Mateo agreed. “But if we’re first? If we get two or three years before they catch on and catch up? We’re set for life, darling. I’ll be sipping Mai Tais on Bondi beach before I’m thirty.”

“OK, cool, but I still don’t see how me having an email address will make any difference,” Frankie said with a shrug.

“Patience little one, all will be revealed in due time,” Mateo answered. “Now, let’s head down for our taxi and get this party started.”

As they stood, both of them wobbled a little before giggling together. There was a second empty wine bottle on the coffee table now. Francesca realised that she must be drunk, or at least well on the way.

“Don’t tell Papa I drank so much, Mattie,” she said, holding on to his arm. “I hope you’re going to look after me out there in the big city?”

“For ever and a day, sweetheart,” he replied, guiding her towards the front door. “But I think it will be water for you from now on, little lady.”

Francesca was walking better now after the initial head rush of standing up. But she clung to Mateo’s arm, nonetheless, enjoying the contact she had been missing for so long.

Nakagami turned out to be a very traditional Japanese restaurant. It was quiet and dim, with low wooden beams and intimate booths and tables. Mateo was glad he had given Robbie the good whisky. They had been seated right at the back in a cosy little corner.

The food was out of this world and with the décor and faint music, Francesca had the most wonderful night of her life. Mateo was the perfect host, charming and funny. She had never had a grown-up conversation like this with him before, nor had he with her. There was much quiet laughter at their table, throughout the evening. Any lingering awkwardness from before was long forgotten.

To finish, they were presented with the entire, traditional tea ceremony. It was fantastically complex and nuanced, and Francesca was entranced. The fact that the tea itself was a little underwhelming mattered not one jot.

“Are you sober enough for a little walk?” Mateo asked as he opened the restaurant door to leave.

“I still feel a little woozy. Will you make sure I don’t stumble?” Frankie asked. Then with a broad smile, she added, “As long as it’s not too cold either, I didn’t bring a jacket.”

Mateo whipped off his and placed it around her shoulders. “No excuses now, little sister,” he said, smiling.

They walked arm in arm for a spell, neither saying anything much at all. Until they made a turn and came face to face with the shoreline. The sun had set, so the lights of the harbour looked spectacular.

“Wow,” said Francesca, “so, do you bring all your dates here?”

“Only the prettiest ones, my dear,” Mateo answered in what he hoped was a gallant-sounding voice.

“And then it’s straight home for lots of anal sex?” Frankie exclaimed, before realising what she had said. She opened her mouth to apologise for her gaffe, but Mateo beat her to the punch.

“My most perfect date would end here with a simple kiss, Francesca. Sex is easy to find in this world, but what I want is a companion. A partner to take on life’s challenges with me, and to celebrate its glories. That girl, Jennifer? She doesn’t care that our date fell through. She’ll call the next guy in her book, and he’ll get to do whatever he wants with her tonight. It’s cool, but it’s an empty, physical thing. I’ve had more fun and enjoyment tonight with you than I have in three years here.

“So, thank you dearest sister, for inviting me to celebrate with you this evening. I am sorry that we have not kept in touch more often recently, I plan to remedy that. I hope you will take my calls.”

Sorry, Mateo I never heard anything after kiss…

Mateo leaned down and kissed his sister on the cheek, lingering for just a moment. He marvelled at how easy it would have been to turn his head and capture her lips with his. And how appalling and dangerous too. With a shake of his head, he tried to rid himself of the dreadful thought. It dimmed, but it would not disappear entirely.

For her part, Francesca was on cloud nine, which itself was floating in seventh heaven. Mateo had described his perfect date ending with a kiss.

Mine too darling Mateo, mine too.

++++

In the morning Francesca awoke to the reality of being an adult — a hangover. Beside her bed were some aspirin, a tall glass of orange juice, and a folded piece of paper. She took the pills and drained the glass before turning to Mateo’s note.

“Frankie, I had to go out for a few hours. It’s something I’ve been planning for months so I couldn’t put it off.

“I hope your hangover isn’t too bad. Drink plenty of water and try to eat something. There is a gym and a pool in the basement. There is a sauna and steam room too. Some people swear by them, but I never got the attraction.

“I should be back by 11:30 and I’ll pick you up outside. The front desk will call you. Make sure you wear comfy flats because I am going to drag you to every shop on Oxford Street.

“See you soon, kiddo. Mateo xxx”

And you were doing so well brother, but you had to spoil it with that kiddo bit. Oh well, better to burst my bubble now than when I get carried away later.

She tried a cold shower but with an ear-splitting scream went straight to the other extreme. Dressing in jeans and a plain white t-shirt she went to the kitchen to try to eat. Weak tea and a stale bagel was all she could manage. Her headache was receding, but her stomach still felt rather delicate.

At ten o’clock she decided to go for a walk along the harbour. The fresh air did her a power of good and when she got back to Mateo’s building, she was feeling much better. Behind the concierge desk was a woman who introduced herself as Debbie. Frankie told her who she was, and they had a fun time chatting. Debbie refused to be drawn on Mateo’s lifestyle. However, she did let slip a few anonymous secrets about other residents. It seemed that people locked themselves out buck naked much too often.

They were startled by the roar of a car outside. A tiny red rocket ship pulled up and Mateo got out. He embraced Francesca and gave the car’s details to Debbie. She tapped away at the computer on her desk for a moment before giving him a thumbs up.

“Did you hire a fancy car then, Mateo?” Frankie asked.

“No, it’s mine,” he replied. “I ordered it over a year ago from Germany. It finally arrived this week. What do you think?”

“Lovely colour,” she teased. “Does it come with a matching handbag?”

Mateo laughed and opened the passenger door and indicated for her to get in. It felt like it was a long way down for Francesca. Although she had to admit the seat was fantastically comfortable.

“It’s like I’m sitting on the ground,” Frankie giggled. “You’ll be able to see up girls’ skirts on the footpath you sicko.”

“Shut up,” laughed Mateo. “Anyway, they’ll be nothing but a blur when we go by.”

“OK then, get it out of your system,” Frankie said. “Give me the facts and figures, I know you’re dying to.”

“Spoilsport,” Mateo pouted. “OK, since you asked so nastily, here goes. This is a Porsche 911 3.6 Turbo S. Technically it is the 964 model, but you probably already knew that.”

He started the engine, and a delicious vibration ran through Francesca’s body. The throaty roar of the motor was unusual, like nothing she’d ever heard before. He revved it up and there were all sorts of whooshing, sighing noises behind her. But mostly there was that burbling, offbeat rumble.

“Facts and figures?” he asked. “Let’s see…”

With a wail from the engine and a high-pitched scream from herself, Frankie went back in time.

The little red car shot forward as if a giant had kicked them up the backside. Mateo braked hard as they approached the main road. The air was forced from Frankie’s lungs as she was crushed against the seatbelt. She screamed, in unadulterated excitement.

“Next time?” she cried, panting. “Start with that. Fuck me, Mattie, that’s the maddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Cool, isn’t it?” her brother laughed as he eased out into the city traffic.

There were few opportunities for any more shenanigans on their drive. But Frankie did begin to feel like a movie star with all the attention they got.

“Is this car rare or something?” she asked.

“I think there’s about a hundred of them,” Mateo replied, concentrating hard.

“In Sydney, or do you mean in the whole of Australia?” she inquired.

“I mean full stop, that’s it. There are less than a hundred in the whole world,” he said, unable to keep the smugness and pride out of his voice.

“It’s hard to believe there are a hundred guys with dicks that small,” Frankie giggled. Although she did slap at his left arm to confirm the joke.

“Yeah, I had to send a picture of it with the deposit,” Mateo replied, laughing along with her. “It was a nightmare getting the microscope focused.”

After an entertaining drive, they made it to Oxford Street, the shopping mecca of Sydney. Everywhere she looked Frankie saw designer names. Gucci, Chanel, Tiffany, the list went on. As they browsed in the Armani store, she noticed that most shops had no price tags and mentioned it to Mateo.

“If you have to ask, Frankie, you can’t afford it,” he said. “That dress you’re about to try on? $2,500.”

“Am I fuck going to try that on, Mateo,” she exclaimed. “$2,500 for a cocktail dress? I could buy enough clothes to last ten years for that.”

“It’s a good job you’re not buying anything then, isn’t it? My treat baby sister, no buts. Now, this young lady is going to find you some jewellery and shoes to go with it,” Mateo went on. He indicated a smiling grandmother who was coming their way. Frankie thought she looked classy and sexy as she strode towards them. But up close it was clear that she wore enough makeup to get a job throwing custard pies at the circus.

++++

Francesca managed to escape without buying anything, but Mateo remained insistent. When they stopped outside the Prada store she finally relented.

“Mateo, my brother, I know you’re stinking rich,” she exclaimed. “You don’t have to impress me with your money. Your car is amazing, and your apartment is fantastic, but I’m here for you, not your wallet. If I let you buy me one outfit in here, can we go to Myer and maybe Westfield? Please? These places just aren’t me, I’m sorry.”

“Of course, Frankie, whatever you want. But I get to pick the outfit in here. Deal?” Mateo countered.

Francesca acquiesced. So, an hour later she was dressed in the most beautiful little black dress she had ever seen. It came right up to her throat but there was a risqué cut out section in the chest. The built-in support for her boobs did the same job as her Wonder Bra, exposing her décolletage. Well, that was what she thought that the sales assistant had called it anyway.

Her legs were encased in hold-up stockings so sheer that they felt like cool, liquid glass on her skin. There was Lycra woven into them, so they clung to every centimetre of her calves and thighs. It was a delicious sensation, she thought. The pièces de résistance were the most perfect black pumps. Their five-inch heels would put her at eye level with her brother, she thought.

“What about panties?” she had asked the assistant in hushed tones.

“What about them?” the woman had answered. “Why buy an FMD like this and ruin it with underwear? No, you look perfect the way you are. He won’t be able to resist you, no man could. Now, go out there and sell it, girl.”

“But that’s so naughty,” Frankie squeaked. “I can’t go out there with no panties on.”

“Who’s gonna know? Just you right? Think of the excitement every time you cross your legs or get out of the car,” the assistant whispered. “It gives you power over them. Use it… own it.”

Francesca was too embarrassed to argue, or even ask what an FMD was. So, she tottered out of the changing room with her belly in knots and her cheeks aflame.

I thought this was an LBD. Why do they keep changing things all the time? Right, Frankie. He is never going to give up until you buy something. This outfit looks great, so let’s make sure he buys it. Then we can head back to planet Earth.

With a deep breath, she strode out to where Mateo was waiting. He pursed his lips to whistle, but no sound came out. The air was stuck in his lungs, but it didn’t matter. His heart had stopped anyway, so there was no blood flowing through his veins anymore. Francesca was a vision, he thought.

The assistant had applied a hint of makeup to bring out her delicate features. The contrast between her blonde hair and the black outfit was stark and eye-catching. He managed to gesture her to spin around. The dress showed off her pert bottom and was short enough for a hint of her woven stocking tops to be visible. Her breasts seemed to have grown a cup size and her cleavage drew his gaze like a magnet.

“Yeah, not bad,” he said as a cold sweat broke out on his brow. “I think you look decent enough. Do you wanna take it?”

Frankie didn’t really, it was probably hundreds of dollars. But she had never felt so glamorous. Poor Mateo looked like a cartoon character about to trip over his tongue. She nodded and clapped her hands, returning to the changing room to take it off.

“I take it he liked it?” said the assistant, whose name she discovered was Melanie.

“Yes, he was speechless,” Frankie squeaked. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He said I could have it. Thank you so much for helping me.”

“Don’t thank me, love,” Melanie said with a smile, “I just made a $1,200 commission. I won’t need an FMD when my fella hears about this tonight.”

“You said that before,” Frankie said. “FMD, what does that mean? I’ve been trying to work it out.”

Melanie turned from the door, the black ensemble in her arms. “It’s a Fuck Me Dress, dearie and I’ve never seen a bloke more excited about one in my entire life. Take your time getting changed, I’ll get everything organised with your boyfriend.”

Francesca’s face turned crimson as the other girl left.

Boyfriend? And it’s a Fuck Me Dress? Jesus Frankie, this has been fun and all, but go easy. It’s still Mateo at the end of the day.

That was a fact that she was fully aware of, and in some twisted way, it only made the whole thing more exciting.

When she came out with her bargain-basement jeans and ratty white tee, Frankie felt out of place once more. She had allowed herself to be swept up in the excitement and wonder of designer shopping, but it had to end. She sidled up to Mateo’s side as he was signing the credit card slip.

$12,770! Fuck me backways but that’s mental. I wonder how many FMDs he has bought before. None that will be less successful than this one I’m sure… I mean, I hope…

After a stop for lunch at a kerbside café, they returned to the car. Using about a tenth of its performance, they made their way to the type of shops that Frankie knew better. In Myer, she bought six outfits, totalling $430. She was pleased with that, so they didn’t spend long in Westfield. She got some more sensible underwear and a pair of comfortable training shoes. They would be good for walking. She planned to explore the city next week, while Mateo worked.

And with that, they were done.

“Thank you, Mateo,” she said as they sat in traffic. “That was a wonderful day. I’m sorry I was so surly before, but I’m not used to all this. Myer’s is much more my pace. You know what Papa is like.”

“Don’t worry, Frankie,” Mateo replied. “It took me years to throw off the shackles of Dad’s frugality. And it’s no bad thing either, being sensible with money. But sometimes you can do good things with it too, rather than just looking at it like Scrooge McDuck.”

“Ha-ha,” laughed Francesca, “that’s not something I’ve ever had to worry about. Hey, can we stop at a Coles or something? The contents of your fridge are tragic, and I want to cook you dinner.”

So, they stopped off at the supermarket and stocked up on fresh meat, fruits, and vegetables. There was no barbecue pit at the apartment complex. So, they bought a couple of disposable ones in case they decided to go for a day trip later. Laden with bags they returned to the car and ran into a problem. The ‘boot’ of the car was in the front, and it was tiny. Frankie ended up with half of their shopping piled around her in the passenger seat.

“I knew there was a reason I usually order in,” laughed Mateo, looking at her surrounded by grocery bags.

But they got home without incident. After stowing their purchases, they sat out on the balcony with their glasses of wine.

“I have to go to work tomorrow,” Mateo said.

“That’s fine, I bought some good walking shoes today, so I’ll get out and explore a bit,” Frankie replied sleepily. “I’m so tired. I can’t believe spending other peoples’ money is so exhausting.”

Mateo smiled and held up his glass for a clink, before slouching back into his chair and chilling out. They were both comfortable in each other’s company, as they always had been at home. What a change the previous twenty-four hours had wrought.

++++

For the next few days, Frankie made sure that she was up early to make Mateo a healthy breakfast. She also tried to make him something for lunch, like sandwiches, or pasta. These he refused, saying that he never ate at work. “Breaks are an unnecessary distraction,” he insisted.

So, she took them herself and set off on her touristy adventures around the city. She went to the Opera House, climbed to the top of the Harbour Bridge, attached to a safety line. And she visited the shops, large and small. She was looking for a gift for Mateo, a thank you for his hospitality. She wanted it to be personal, not ostentatious, or overly expensive. A gift that would shout “Frankie” and remind him of her if he ever got side-tracked away from her again.

On the advice of Debbie at the front desk, she made several appointments at a local spa. The masseuses had mad skills and Francesca always left feeling relaxed and happy. But there was another service offered in the spa, waxing. Francesca had never heard of it and asked the receptionist, Charlene. There was a poster on the wall over her shoulder, but it was an arty thing and didn’t explain it at all. Frankie soon discovered why.

“We use nothing but the finest beeswax,” the girl said. “Can I assume it is your first time? Our cosmetologists will explain all of your options before they start. The full body is easy, it gets a little more complicated when you move on to your bikini line. They have sample photographs to help you choose. I love my French-style wax, but I’m going to go full Brazilian next time.” She had stage whispered the last bit, her face colouring slightly.

Francesca’s mind was working overtime, wondering what the woman was talking about.

Wax, whole body, bikini line… Does she mean hair? As in removing body hair? Wait, bikini line? Pubes? Wow…

“Can I book an appointment, maybe just to discuss my options,” she asked. “I’m not sure if I’m ready yet.”

“If you have hair down there, you’re ready honey,” Charlene chuckled. “Kylie had a cancellation this morning, she’ll be free in about twenty minutes. Do you want to go for it?”

Frankie nodded, still confused, but also intrigued. And that was how she found herself studying pictures of naked vaginas. The types of waxes and their attendant shapes and designs was dizzying. But as soon as she saw the French-style wax that Charlene had mentioned, her mind was made up.

“My fella calls it a landing strip,” Kylie giggled. “It’s a pity he’s only got his tiny Cessna, not the Jumbo jet he told me about on our first date.”

Kylie was about forty, a busty blonde with a ready laugh and sparkling eyes. Her assistant Min Soo was Korean and remained quiet and efficient. She laughed at Kylie’s silly jokes though.

Between them, they removed almost every stray hair on Francesca’s body. The wax felt warm and luxuriant as they applied, but it was liquid fire when they removed it. But the women were skilled and very careful. When they were done, they held a special mirror between her thighs to let her see the results of their handiwork.

Frankie had never looked at herself this closely before. She was shocked at how hairy she had been beforehand. Now her skin was smooth and glistened with the soothing balms they had applied. She noticed that her lips were petite and recessed when compared to the others they had shown her.

“Do I look, alright down there? Normal, I mean?” Francesca asked in a quiet voice. She trusted these women, they had been more intimate with her than even her doctor has ever been.

“Beautiful,” said Min Soo, nodding. “Fuckin gorgeous, hun,” blurted Kylie. “Just you keep it that way for as long as you can. Once the blokes get at it, things head south fast. Mine looks like the back room of an abattoir.”

The two women dissolved in gales of laughter. Soon it was all three, when Kylie explained that she had been joking, sort of.

When Frankie got up and moved around, she was astonished. Her inner thighs glided past one another, and she felt every bump and wiggle. There was a sense of coolness pervading her nether regions too.

“Get yourself some fancy undies, hun,” Kylie said. “You won’t believe how good they’ll feel now. And you can buy the skimpiest bikinis you like. You’re gonna look spectacular. Is there a lucky bloke who’s going to find out what you’ve done tonight?”

“Maybe not tonight,” Frankie said, “but someday, maybe. I hope…”

Kylie and Min Soo high fived and chatted with Frankie as she got dressed.

They in turn suggested she take some makeup classes. Some of the high-end brands offered them when a customer bought their products. Frankie had little experience with powders and paints. But after some practice, she began to enjoy trying them out. She hadn’t realised how little it took to make a huge difference to her look.

Next, she visited a top hairdresser. They tweaked Frankie’s current cut and showed her how to maintain it better as it grew out. She had felt embarrassed at spending Mateo’s money on such frivolous nonsense. But one morning he had given her $5,000 and told her she had to spend it. She had demurred but he insisted. It hadn’t been nearly as difficult to do as she had expected.

Mateo himself had begun coming home from work a little earlier. Just half an hour or so but he used that time to work on himself. Frankie swam every morning, but she changed her routine to join him downstairs after work. He lifted weights too, but Frankie preferred not to. They would warm down with a cleansing steam, then veg out and be in bed by ten. Exhausted but happy.

It was during one of these gym sessions that Francesca made a fascinating discovery.

Mateo does not wear underpants under his workout shorts.

She normally eschewed the weight room but one evening she felt a little weary and cut her swim short. She went looking for Mateo and found him lying on a bench, pushing a Nautilus machine up and down. His legs were spreadeagled on either side of the bench as he strained.

He noticed her and paused for a rest, dangling his arms to the floor.

“Could you hold my knees down for the next set please, Frankie?” he asked her. She nodded, asking precisely what he wanted.

As he got back into position Frankie put her hands on his knees and applied her weight. He seemed much more stable and counted off his reps slowly. Frankie’s eyes were drawn to the intriguing bulge in his shorts. When she realised what she was doing she tore her gaze away, to the leg hole. Where she could see his balls oozing out.

This time she gulped but did not look away immediately.

Frankie, that’s his ball bag, don’t look.

But it was too late, her hormones were at the wheel now. Lowering her body, she twisted her head for a better view and was rewarded for her efforts. Resting on the crinkly sac was the head of Mateo’s penis.

It was the first one she had ever seen and therefore the most beautiful, but that didn’t matter right then. She tried to absorb every single detail that she could. The tip was pink, smooth, and rounded. She knew that meant that he had been circumcised. The girls at school said that was a good thing because it was much easier to keep clean.

There was a vertical slit right on the end.

That’s where his pee and his… sperm comes out of…

Her gaze drifted to the exposed ball sac, the contrast with his penis so extreme. Where it was clean-cut and defined, this thing was a wrinkly, hairy mess. But she thought absently, it was just as beautiful in its own right. Mateo’s sperm was made in there. The stuff that would make his babies grow inside a lucky girl someday.

She became aware that someone was speaking. Shaking her head, she looked up.

“… you’re hurting me, Frankie. Let go please,” Mateo was saying.

She looked down at her hands, where her fingers were biting into his flesh. Pure white skin showed around them, where she held him in a death grip. She flinched, letting go instantly, apologising profusely. Mateo laughed it off, but Frankie’s mind was reeling. Mateo’s cock had been mere inches from her face, and it had affected her markedly.

So much so that the next evening she found herself spotting him in the weight room once more. She flitted from one position to another, desperate for a repeat performance. But while she did catch a few fleeting glimpses, nothing like the first time happened again. She didn’t mind, too much. She was getting to spend time with her brother and learn about weight training. Whilst having free reign to touch his body. She asked about different muscle groups, each time leaving a lingering touch on his flesh.

It was a silly, girlish game she rationalised. But she made sure to wear panties. Otherwise, her shorts would have been soaked through every time. The girls in her class had whispered and giggled about boys and how they made them feel. Francesca had gone along with it without understanding what they meant. Now she did though, and her burgeoning sexuality was sending her down a slippery slope, and she was loving it.

++++

February 1994

Mateo’s project at work was going better than he had ever expected. The computer science department at the university had been delighted to help. The students had designed a database for him. It would capture more information than he could ever need. It could be updated and accessed by anyone with the password, anywhere in the world.

The next step was to set up a server at their office to run the program and store the data. This time he turned to the premier computer engineer in the city, Liam Townsend. When Liam had set out a potential spec sheet, Mateo had ticked all the options. Money was no object, the system had to be fast and reliable. It even had an emergency power supply in case of power outages. They installed a generator in the basement which would kick in if the power stayed off for more than a few minutes.

As this neared completion, the final part of the project hove into view. Recruitment and training. For this, he realised that he was going to have to be on-site, in New York, London, Tokyo, and Hong Kong. Francesca’s visit was at an end.

In a rare, idle moment while Liam installed a computer in his office, Mateo’s mind wandered to his sister. The young woman who had turned up at his door three weeks before had been unrecognisable. She was as far removed from the little girl he had left in Perth as the moon was from the sun. And the sophisticated, cultured woman that she had now become? Francesca had changed so much in the intervening period that she might as well be a different person.

She wore makeup and jewellery now for a start. Not a lot but it was applied in such a manner as to subtly enhance her already beautiful features. She wore skirts and blouses rather than jeans and t-shirts. Her cleavage was on display most days now, along with her smooth, tan legs. Legs that always ended in classy heels these days. His baby sister had become a woman, an alluring, sexual creature who invaded his dreams at night.

He had noticed her staring up his shorts one day in the gym as if she was hypnotised. There was a look of intense concentration on her face. It was in stark contrast to the sweat on her brow and her flaring nostrils. Frankie had been looking at his junk and she hadn’t said a thing. She was peeking at her brother inappropriately, and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

Elated at first, he thought. She was a stunning-looking woman, hotter by far than any of the Sydney socialites who had warmed his bed. Then embarrassed, because although Frankie was eighteen, emotionally she was still a child. And finally ashamed and appalled because whilst all that was true, she was still his baby sister.

He understood hormones and instincts and all that but there was no excuse. Her looking at him was understandable, childish curiosity at most. But him thinking and dreaming of her sexually was reprehensible and unforgivable. It had to stop, and his work had given him the perfect excuse to do just that. By ending her trip. It would hurt like hell, but it would be worth it, for both of them.

He asked Liam a question and elicited some advice. The contractor gave him the information and recommended a colleague for the job. He assured Mateo that what he wanted was not only feasible but could be organised in a few days.

++++

That evening he broke the news to Frankie, that in two days he would be jetting off and that she had to return to Perth.

“Aw crap, Mattie,” she replied. “Just when I was starting to get to know you again too. Please tell me I can come back soon. Sydney is way cooler than Perth. Plus, I think you need me to keep your diet and exercise on track.”

“You’re probably right, Sis,” he laughed. “And you can come back anytime you like. In fact, that reminds me, here is a small gift to show you that I’m serious.”

Mateo handed her a small jewellery box and Frankie opened it with trembling fingers. She stared down at what it contained. It wasn’t a ring or a necklace or a bracelet. No, it was a million times better than any of those.

“A key?” she squealed. “For what?” Mateo spread his arms wide. “For this place?” she cried. “For your home?”

Mateo nodded and she leapt across the room into his arms, hugging him tightly. She kissed him on the cheek, only belatedly noticing that the corners of their mouths had touched.

“Ooh, kinky,” they cried in unison, before falling back in gales of laughter.

The evening continued and their easy conversation was a joy to behold. From complete estrangement three weeks before they were now as thick as thieves. Mateo had used his contacts to arrange a business class seat for her on the flight back to Perth. They rang Jorge and told him when she would be arriving. He was delighted to hear them laughing and joking together. Just before bed, Mateo made a performance of remembering something important.

“Oh, yes Frankie,” he said. “I almost forgot. Tomorrow, for your last night in Sydney, I am taking you dancing. Please wear your pretty black dress, the one from Prada. And all the other things that Melanie picked out for you too.”

“Of course, dear brother,” she said, a slight flush creeping up from her neckline.

Fuck! No panties!

“I am not much of a dancer, though,” she continued. “You will have to show me what to do.”

“You just stole my line, baby sister,” Mateo laughed. “We shall just have to get so drunk that we don’t care. We can just stand there leaning on each other, swaying back and forth.”

Frankie smiled and nodded in acquiescence.

With no fucking panties on, though!

With a chaste kiss, she excused herself and headed off to bed. She had a busy day ahead tomorrow. She had thought she would have more time. Plans within plans spun through her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

++++

Mateo finished work early the next day. He made several extra stops on the way home, just to make sure everything would be perfect for the evening ahead.

When he entered the apartment, Francesca was nowhere to be found. She had left a note though and true to her word she returned by five o’clock.

“Hi, Mattie,” she said in a sweet singsong voice. “Should we eat here? Or is that part of the dat… the ah, night out too, I mean?”

“Liquid diet only, Sis,” he replied from the kitchen.

POP!

He appeared with two tall champagne flutes, the pale vintage replete with bubbles.

“To us,” he said as they touched glasses.

“To us,” echoed his sister. Then she went on. “I was going to do this later, but I don’t want to cheapen it by being drunk. I had this made for you,” she continued, fishing in her bag for a small jewellery box.

“Another key?” he joked before he saw her hurt expression and sobered.

“No, Mateo,” she said in a low monotone. “You don’t need a key for anything that I have. This is just a thank you for your wonderful hospitality, and for being my brother again. I wasn’t sure if you still were, and I’m glad that I came to find out. I have something a bit like this, which I bought with the money you sent me from university. I hope you like it.”

She handed him the box and stepped back, draining her champagne in one swallow.

Mateo opened the box reverently, trying to remember the last time he had received a gift. Incredibly, nothing whatsoever came to mind. There was a silver chain with some sort of pendant. He looked at it closely, noting that it was cursive lettering, all of a piece.

Frankie, it read.

“Turn it upside down,” his sister said. “No, not that way, that’s back to front. Upside down, dumbass.”

As he turned it in his fingers, he almost dropped it. Upside down he could still read it, but now it said something different.

Mateo

“How the fu…?” he stammered, turning it over in his fingers. Frankie. Mateo. Frankie. Mateo. Frankie. Mateo.

“It’s an ambigram, dear brother,” Frankie said. “Mine just has your name, but the jeweller used a computer to create the design, so you have both of us. Clever, isn’t it?”

“It’s beautiful, Frankie,” Mateo said slipping the chain around his neck. “I shall wear it over my heart, always. Thank you, dearest sister.”

Their hug was warm and wistful, a sign of healing wounds and shared understanding. They had drifted apart over time, but both regretted allowing that to occur. Both vowed to themselves not to let it happen again. Finally, they came apart and Mateo ushered her to the bathroom.

“The taxi is coming at 7:30 PM, Frankie. Don’t be late, we are on a deadline,” he urged.

++++

Frankie looked at herself in the mirror. The slinky dress clung to her body, making her feel sexy and alive. The stockings and heels made her legs look long and toned, although all the walking had helped as well. Her hair had grown out a touch, its darker chestnut roots beginning to show. She had enjoyed being blonde, but she wouldn’t do it again. As with her new makeup skills, au naturel was the way to go, she thought.

Less is more, Francesca. Less is more.

She ran her hands over her hips, not feeling so much as a blemish or bump anywhere. “No panties,” Melanie had said. “It gives you power over them…”

What does that even mean? What do I want it to mean…?

Mateo knocked on her door.

The five-minute warning. Who cares? You’re ready, let’s do this.

At the door, she stopped dead and turned back with a squeak of alarm. Her bracelet was on the counter, the one with Mateo’s name.

I’ll wear it over my heart, always.

With that thought ringing in her ears, she set off towards her destiny, whatever that might be.

++++

The taxi took them down to the harbour, just under the famous bridge. Francesca knew the area well, as she walked this way most mornings. The car pulled up and her heart sank. She knew where this was, the dock for the harbour tour boats. Motor yachts that took too many people out to drink too much booze. She couldn’t believe that Mateo would waste their special night on a chundering, booze cruise.

He paid the driver and took her hand. “Come on, it’s down this way,” Mateo said, the excitement clear in his voice. She allowed him to lead her down a sloping accessway and along the pontoons where the boats were moored. Towards the very last one, the smallest one, the one that was always loudest and most crowded. The Intimate Moments it was called. Its name was right there, painted across the stern in cerulean blue and gold letters.

They must have been early, she thought because there didn’t seem to be anyone else on board yet.

“Mr and Mrs Martin?” asked a young man in a white shirt and smart blazer.

“Yes, that’s us,” Mateo replied before Frankie could object.

“Welcome aboard sir… madam,” the man continued. “Refreshments are laid out on the aft deck. We shall be casting off directly.”

There was a sloping gangway with handrails to access the ship. Mateo directed Frankie to go aboard. He followed her and they made their way to an open area at the rear, about five metres on a side. There were comfortable bench seats around the periphery. In the centre lay a table laden with treats. Francesca saw crab legs, caviar, and smoked salmon to name but a few. And of course, the obligatory bottle of champagne sitting at a jaunty angle in its ice bucket.

‘Blazer guy’ was onboard now, securing the access ramp. There was a deep, sonorous rumble as the boat’s powerful engines began to spool up.

“You booked the whole thing? Just for us?” Francesca asked her brother, her eyes glassy. “That man called me your… wife.”

Mateo was opening the champagne as he answered. “A teeny, tiny fib, my dear. They offer a wedding night package, for honeymooning newlyweds. Usually, these things are a bit rowdier. It sounded like it would be quiet and tasteful. I thought it would be fun… Is it OK?”

“It’s wonderful you mad, silly, beautiful idiot. Simply wonderful,” Frankie said turning around to take stock of the boat.

Or is it a ship? What’s the difference?

POP went the cork as Mateo eased it out of the bottle and filled two glasses. As they toasted, the Intimate Moments edged away from the dock, and the music started. Frankie’s head whipped up, to see a string quartet playing on an upper deck above them. Her smile widened as her heart rate began to rise and her cheeks flushed. This was the most romantic thing she had ever done.

This is the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done Frankie. Especially a brother and sister…

At the rail, they gazed out at the harbour. The sun was dipping down towards the horizon, turning the water to burnished gold. The noise of the city, of its traffic and the rest of civilisation, faded into the background. It was replaced with the burble of the motors, and the splish-splash of the waves against the hull. Above all that remained the mellifluous tones of Brahms and Schubert.

Mateo put his arm around her and whispered, “Is this how you always imagined your wedding night, Sis?”

Almost exactly, dearest brother.

“Well, in my dream Mel Gibson has usually turned up by this stage,” she teased. “But apart from that, pretty much, yes,” she continued, causing them both to laugh. He held her close as the sky darkened, and the lights of the city began to twinkle on the lapping waves.

They snacked and drank and even danced a little to the exquisite music. That was until ‘blazer guy’ appeared to tell them that dinner was served. They went indoors before the insects began to bite.

Inside was a long table groaning under the weight of enough food for about twenty people. There was fish soup, prawn and bean stew, even a special saffron infused rice. Beside the fish cataplana was octopus baked with spareribs. Beyond that Frankie could see Algarve-style oysters, baked sea bream, and lemon-infused squid. There was more, but she was too hungry and excited to notice the rest.

“I called Papa for inspiration,” Mateo said as Francesca stared, astonished. “He reminded me of that Portuguese restaurant we went to last time. I called them and the owner remembered him. He laid on all this just for us, and the crew, of course. We don’t have to eat it all.”

“Wanna bet?” Frankie said, laughing as she began to pile a plate high with her favourite delicacies. Mateo followed with a smile.

They ate at an intimate, candlelit table. A waiter brought wine and they talked as they never had before. They were two young adults reflecting on lives lived together, and far apart. They were two halves of the same whole, yin and yang. There was laughter and not a few tears as Mateo spoke of their mother. Francesca had such limited memories of Maria, she had only been two when she had died. Any titbit that her brother could give her was like gold dust, and she kept pushing him for more. Oddly, the more mundane the story, the more connected Frankie felt to her. She had yearned for these moments for years, she just hadn’t known it.

Dessert was simple vanilla ice cream. Then the waiter poured out a sumptuous hot fudge sauce and it was no longer simple, it was divine. Mateo pulled him aside and spoke quietly in his ear. The young man smiled and nodded before heading below.

Later, draining their glasses of sweet, burning Drambuie, Mateo asked Francesca to dance.

“This has been such a wonderful evening Frankie, can we finish it with a dance, please?”

“Of course, dear brother,” she replied, taking his hand.

Outside a ring of tiki torches burned to keep the mosquitos at bay. The musicians picked up their instruments and played their delightful music once more. As they did, Frankie and Mateo danced. Not like Nureyev and Fonteyn, or even Travolta and Newton-John. But like two people connected on a fundamental level. Their two hearts beat as one and neither could remember a moment of greater calm and contentment.

The music picked up in tempo, moving from classical idyll to contemporary vigour. Francesca lifted her head from Mateo’s shoulder to look around. She had not noticed, but they had been joined by the ship’s crew and the restaurant and waiting staff. She smiled, the spotlight had been cool, but a dance floor could be a lonely place. It needed the hustle and bustle of other people. She pulled herself close to her brother once more as they swayed together.

++++

Mateo was suffering from the age-old male dilemma, “dickus outtacontrollibis.” Francesca’s warm, undulating body felt so right plastered up against him, but he knew it was oh so wrong. Well, his brain knew that, but his body did not. Even as he pulled her close and ran his hands over her swaying hips his mind was rebelling.

RED ALERT. MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. FULL REVERSE. ABANDON SHIP.

The signals from his questing fingertips were very, very different though.

She is not wearing panties. My sweet, baby sister is humping my crotch and her puffy, pink pussy is exposed to the air. Is it wet? NO, NO, NO, Mateo, come on!

Excitement built unabated as his thoughts spiralled out of control.

Does she want me? Jesus, do I want her? She’s my sister. That is pure, platonic love, an instinct to protect and nurture. That’s all it can ever be, Mateo. You’re drunk and you’ve got her drunk as well, so it’s all your fault. You have to fix this before something happens.

But he was too late, and something did happen, their lips met.

There was a cheer and raucous applause from their fellow dancers, even a wolf whistle or two rang out. As the kiss went on, and on.

Eventually, their mouths separated, just as their souls were about to lock together.

“I’m sorry,” he said before he ran inside. Francesca watched him go, too confused and elated to fully process what had happened. But she could still taste him on her tongue, and she thought that she always would.

++++

Mateo reappeared as the ship was being tied up back at the dock. Frankie was leaning on the railing staring out at the endless industry of Sydney Harbour. She sensed his approach and turned to face him, a broad smile on her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said, touching his cheek. “It was a beautiful, perfect moment. I’m glad that it happened, and I’ll never forget it. And there’s no fault or blame. We will be able to laugh about it for the rest of our lives, Mateo. I love you brother, more than I ever knew and that was the best way to show you. Because I felt your love for me reflected right back.”

“OK,” Mateo replied. There was nothing more he could add to that. So, he took her hand in his and kissed the back of her fingers. “Let’s go home, Frankie.”

++++

Francesca’s small case was full as she clicked it shut. On the bed were the clothes she had been wearing when she arrived. Faded jeans, a white t-shirt, scruffy sandals, and plain white panties. They represented her old life in a nutshell, safe and adequate. But Francesca was a different woman now.

She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She could barely recognise herself as the girl who had flown in from Perth a month before. Her hair and makeup made her look older and more worldly, sophisticated. Her sunglasses were pushed up on top of her head rather than tucked away in her bag.

Her white, chiffon blouse showed off her tanned flesh and prominent cleavage. Her jeans were tight, painted on almost. She would never have worn them before. But she had a kind of confidence now, a devil may care attitude. Before she would have only felt crushing self-consciousness, but now she felt free. Her legs had firmed a little with her daily walks but not that much. They just looked right, snug and shapely in the tight denim. Before she knew that they would not have.

Twisting, she glanced over her shoulder at her full bottom. She saw it as an asset now, a signpost to her womanly freedom. Before it had been a shameful thing, brilliant for sitting on but to be ignored and reviled at all other times.

On her feet were calf-length cowboy boots with a two-inch heel. They made a loud click when she walked, causing people to look at her. That was what they were for. She would merely smile, raise her chin, stride forward, and embrace the attention. She was a mouse no more.

Their kiss had changed her. The imaginary door in her mind had opened, and she had stepped through. When she looked for it over her shoulder, the doorway to her past was gone.

Onwards and upwards, Frankie. Now let’s go and give Mateo a heart attack.

Her appearance hadn’t quite had that effect, but he had stared a bit. They made their way down to his car and took the short drive to the airport. Mateo offered to carry her case, but she stared at him.

“It’s got wheels dummy, look,” she exclaimed, failing to suppress a giggle.

“Wow, that’s clever,” he replied, suitably abashed. In revenge, he took her hand as they walked. A younger Francesca would have squealed and complained. But the stunning woman at his side just gave his hand a little squeeze and walked on.

At the check-in desk, they finally parted, with promises to write and call. Mateo gave her a piece of paper. “My email address,” he said. “Hit me up.”

As the queue moved forward, he finally said goodbye and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She twisted, and his lips met hers once more, in another fiery clinch.

“Goodbye Mateo,” she said breathily as they parted. “I had a wonderful time. Good luck with work and please call Papa more often. I know he misses your night-time talks. I love you.”

And with that, she was gone, ripped from his life as suddenly as she had arrived. Mateo watched until she walked through the door to departures.

Supermodel? Bollocks, she’s a fucking hypermodel at least.

Shaking his head, he returned to his car and drove home. Work was the answer, he thought. Endless, soul-crushing work. He would let it wash over him and squash him so that he wouldn’t think about that kiss. On the boat, it had been a mad, confusing accident. In the airport, she had meant it. And deep down Mateo knew that he had too.

++++

Jorge waited for Francesca to come through the airport. She had sounded so happy each time they had talked on the phone in recent weeks. Mateo had called him several times too. And they had talked for hours, about everything, and nothing. The Sydney flight had landed half an hour before, but she had not appeared yet. He looked at the complicated board again, checking that he hadn’t misunderstood it.

Around him heads turned as a glamorous movie star walked out from Arrivals. Even Jorge had to stare as she strode across the concourse, straight into his arms.

“Papa, I have missed you so,” she gushed. His baby was home, but she was his baby no more.

“Francesca?” he mumbled. “Can it be you? I thought you were a movie star.”

“Don’t be silly,” she giggled. “It’s just little old me. Mateo bought me some clothes and stuff. Come on, take me home, I’ve got so much to tell you.”

The drive out to Bickley took less than half an hour, but the story of Frankie’s trip to Sydney took much longer. Jorge listened with one ear while he studied his daughter. She had gone from a shy, introverted child to a stylish, cosmopolitan woman in three weeks. It was a change that he had sought for her but now that it had happened, he was confused. Could Mateo’s influence have been so strong?

He heard about shopping trips, makeup lessons, steam rooms and midnight cruises. She had gone for a family visit and ended up having an Alice in Wonderland adventure. Whatever, the details weren’t important. She was home, looking and sounding terrific. And she had news of Mateo, both good and bad.

Workaholic, pale, and undernourished are words no parent ever wants to hear. But as her tale continued those words were replaced with more positive ones. Gym, vegetables, swimming, romantic.

Wait, what? Romantic?

Jorge sat up and concentrated on what she was saying.

“… dancing. It was wonderful out there. Just us, under the stars and the lights of the city. Then all the staff came out and the music changed. We all danced the night away. It was such fun…”

He relaxed, served him right for dipping in and out of her story. When she finished her tale, waving goodbye to Mateo at the airport he let out a long sigh.

“Well, I managed to get that dead branch cut down out the back, so that was good,” he said. With that, he had summarised his achievements over the same period.

Frankie laughed her girlish laugh, and a hand went to her mouth. To his great relief that was something he did still recognise. “I’m sorry Papa, going on like that. I had a wonderful time, but I missed you and this old house too. A girl can have too much caviar and champagne.”

“Good, because it’s snags, baked potatoes and salad for tea,” Jorge said smiling. “Just as soon as you get the spuds scrubbed clean.” He stood and Frankie came into his arms.

“Let me put some old clothes on Papa and get my washing done,” she said. “Then I’m all yours.”

“Sounds good, criança,” he replied, holding her tight. “By the way, a friend of Mateo’s came by yesterday. He was up in your room for a few hours, I hope he’s not left it in a mess.”

“Papa, what do mean?” Francesca cried, mortified. “A strange man in my bedroom? How could you let him in there? I never even tidied up before I left.”

She pulled away from him and hurried up the stairs. Jorge heard her door open and there was a moment of silence. It was followed by an ear-splitting shriek. Which in turn led to the sound of cowboy boots clattering down the stairs.

“A computer, Papa,” she cried, falling back into his embrace. “Mateo got me a computer, a Gateway. And there’s an internet connection too.”

“Yes honey,” Jorge replied, patting her on the back. “The young man mentioned that. He said it might help with your studies too, yes?”

“Of course, Papa. And I’ll be able to email Mateo all the time, and my friends too of course. Everyone in the computer lab will be so jealous. Do you mind if I go and try it out? I’ll do the potatoes soon.”

“Take all the time you want, darling,” Jorge said. “Your old Papa can still work a scrubbing brush. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

Frankie squeezed him tight before turning to race up the stairs two at a time. Watching her childish enthusiasm in the body of a woman was a sobering experience for Jorge. This was how it began, how the world would start to pull her away from him. Men would notice her now, powerful men who could tease and entice her.

He had dedicated his life to protecting her and until this moment he had been proud of his success. But circumstances might take his ability to look after her out of his hands now. His jaw tightened as his resolve strengthened.

Just let them fucking try.

++++

Francesca’s first email was a tentative thing.

[F] Hi Mateo, please email back if you get this.

As she got up to make a cup of tea her computer chimed. He had replied already.

[M] Coming through loud and clear, Sis. Everything working OK? It was all arranged in a bit of a rush.

[F] Yes, it’s brilliant, way better than the ones we have at school. The Internet is far quicker too. By the way, how do we pay for the T1 line? I thought they were super expensive.

[M] Don’t tell anyone but you’re my new research assistant for Western Australia. Mike’s paying.

[F] As long as you don’t expect a three-page report every night.

[M] Na, once a week will be fine. How’s Papa?

[F] All good, he’s out at the barbie now, I should be helping.

[M] Tell him I’ll call him tonight. Gotta go, mail me any time.

[F] Even at home?

[M] Yes, I’ve got a new thing called a laptop. It’s a portable computer I can carry around with me. I can use it at home or when I’m abroad.

[F] You realise that you just eliminated any excuse for not replying?

[M] Hmm, shit. Remind me who is the assistant here again? Bye Frankie. ILY.

[F] What?

[F] What is that?

[F] Mateo, what is ILY?

[F] Seriously, what is it?

[F] Never mind, I got it. ILYT, meanie.

++++

April 1994

Time passed and Jorge and Francesca fell back into their old rhythms. Swimming in the morning was followed by work and school. Later they would hike or try a surf session in the afternoon, before returning home for a meal together. She showed her father how to email Mateo. While he was fascinated, he rather looked forward to their phone calls still.

On the surface everything was normal. Dig a little deeper though and it soon became apparent that Frankie hadn’t moved on from her trip to Sydney. Far from it in fact.

It had started innocently enough with a bad dream. She was on the boat in Sydney Harbour but for some reason, it was called the Spitter Swallow now. It was racing across the water, engines roaring. Mateo was there and they were dancing close, cheek to cheek. They were alone and even the lights of the city were dark. The stars twinkled above them but there wasn’t even a moon.

And they kissed, just as they had in real life that night. But Mateo’s reaction was different this time. He pushed her away, screaming, “Nooooo.” As Frankie stepped towards him, he had leapt over the side of the ship into the inky black water. With a cry, she ran to the rail, but he was gone. The boat raced on into the darkness and Mateo was left behind.

She woke with a strangled shout, disoriented and breathless. Her father was there in a moment, holding her and soothing her brow as she began to cry.

“It was so real, Papa,” she told him. “So real. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. It was horrible.”

“Shush, little one,” Jorge said. “Back in Punta del Arias, people like your grandmother put great store in dreams, in their power. I did too as a boy because my mother told me to. Then I met your mother, Mama Maria. And she taught me that our minds work in ways that we don’t understand. When we sleep our brains try to make sense of everything we’ve seen and done that day. And sometimes they make connections that don’t make sense and we have a bad dream.

“But that’s all they are, our brains letting off steam, having fun even.”

“So, it was a brain fart, Papa?” Francesca giggled. Her father joined her in laughter, loving her cheeky joke. He thought it meant that she was over it and could go back to sleep.

“Yes, I wondered what the smell was in here,” he said. “Now I know. Poor Mateo must have had many bad dreams when he was a boy, I think.”

Frankie laughed and squeezed his hand before rolling over and going back to sleep.

She would dream of the boat again, often in fact. But those dreams were different. Closer by far to the reality of her experience on the Intimate Moments. In each case the kiss wasn’t just central to her vision, it was the jumping-off point for her fantasies. Fantasies of more kissing and…

She often woke up in a cold sweat afterwards, with her heart racing and her brow moist. But mostly it was her throbbing, pulsing vagina that caught her attention. And the hot, slimy moisture that soaked her panties or pyjamas.

Oh, Mateo… What is happening…?

++++

Francesca was worried. Her dreams were so real, her emotions so powerful. She knew she was dreaming about sex although her dreams hadn’t gone quite that far, yet. But every single one was centred around her brother. Poor Mel Gibson never even got a look in anymore. Most of them involved her walking in on Mateo naked. In his apartment, in his office and most disturbingly, here in the house. He was always unaware of her presence, and she could creep up close to stare.

And then she would awaken, just before she could reach out to touch him. And before he reached out to her.

She emailed him all the time. He was in Hong Kong now, exhausted from his continuing world tour. It seemed as though his project was going well. The existing staff had taken to the new system well. Recruitment of the new data processing teams was also well underway. Mateo hoped to go live before the end of May, six weeks hence.

[M] I’m sorry my emails are so short Frankie, but I’m just so busy. It’s such a joy when I look at a hundred new messages to see one of yours in the list. I created a filter that puts emails from you in a special folder, so they’re easy to spot.

[F] Same here, brother. But I think brevity is the way forward. If we have a lot to say we can telephone. I think I could even remember how to post a letter if I had to.

[M] A what? Sorry kiddo I’ve got to go. I fly to Tokyo in the morning. I’ll link up there and email you when I’m set up. LYL.

[F] LYLT.

They had developed their own secret acronym language over the last couple of months. Each tried to outdo the other with new phrases and letter combinations.

Frankie’s eyes were drawn to the bottom drawer of her desk. In there, hidden under her old schoolbooks and notepads was a stack of letters. Ten times or more she had sat down to think through her feelings. She had poured out her heart to Mateo, how she dreamed of him and ached for him. She had detailed her sick, twisted fantasies, no matter how inappropriate. She had confessed her forbidden love, her burning desire to be with him and for him to be with… no, to be in her.

They were sealed in envelopes with his name and address on the front. But there were no stamps on them, nor would there ever be. They were vile, aberrant things, full of ideas and desires that no sister should ever have for her brother. Especially a perfect, chivalrous brother who wanted nothing but the best for her. Who had cherished and nurtured his baby sister and supported her every endeavour. A brother who returned her twisted, sleazy lust with pure, unsullied affection. A brother who deserved so much more.

Mateo…

++++

One benefit of her return to school that she hadn’t considered, was that Frankie had made a new cadre of friends. The senior girls were now the same age as her and were able to talk about things that she understood. Or wanted to understand at least.

To help with her growing obsession, Francesca had introduced the idea of Robbie. He was her long-distance boyfriend, a businessman from Sydney. With his fancy apartment and red cruise missile for a car, he was every schoolgirl’s dream. He was suave and rich but unattainable and oh so far away.

Her friends lapped it up, swooning at her stories of romantic dates and sexy shopping trips. They pressed her for details of her late-night emails, and of her stolen moments on the phone.

Unfortunately, most of their queries revolved around sex and marriage. And they were two things that were definitely off the menu for ‘Robbie’. But from time to time, they would make suggestions or ask questions that made her think. Concepts like trust were discussed at length.

In reality, Francesca could hold Mateo to nothing. He didn’t even know how she felt and his only commitment to her was to be her big brother. Sally was a provocative girl from Hamilton Hill who was always trying to get under Frankie’s skin. Her fiery red hair should have been warning enough about her disposition.

“He’s not given you a ring, Fran,” she would say. “He’s in Hong Kong now and those Chinese girls are mad for fat white cocks. They’re desperate to get out of there before the Poms leave. They would do anything for a nice rich Aussie stud. Maybe even… anal. Have you done that? Does he like it? Does it hurt?”

How the fuck should I know you stupid, bogan bitch?

“We’ve talked about it but it’s too soon, I think, Sally. I mean, I’ve only sucked him off a few times,” said Francesca. “He’s never been in my… you know, never mind… my bum.”

The lies had followed the invention of Robbie hand in glove. The other girls delighted in her sexual innuendo and the odd “factual” titbit. It soon became clear that none of them had any more experience than her. Except perhaps for Sally, she was a dark horse Frankie thought.

Whilst she had fun with them, the other girls offered no insight into Frankie’s real dilemma. It was a problem she took to her bed every night for a sweaty, slippery workout. But each morning, rather than answers, all she had was a dull ache in her belly and a sucking hole in her heart.