I've never seen my sister-in-law drink before. She's usually incredibly proper, wary, on-guard, masked. But with a couple of drinks in her, she's unable to maintain the facade, excuses herself to the front steps to smoke a cigarette. I join her, uninvited. It being my house and all, I figure I'm entitled.

We sit there in the gathering dark, lit by the glow of the lights from the party inside, and the small orange burning tip of her cigarette. Her smoking is not quite angry, but she is obviously troubled. Her divorce from the psycho and remarriage to the big, protective, perennial nice guy must not have solved all her problems.

Which isn't exactly a shock. In my experience the big protective types aren't always so great at inducing orgasms, which means that those of us who are have to constantly be looking over our shoulders for big protective husbands who tend to not be quite so nice to guys they catch screwing their wives and girlfriends.

The psychos tend to blame it on their wives. The nice guys blame it on me. How I yearn for the day when we can all just get along and fuck each other silly without fear of retaliation.

But that day is not yet here, and in the meantime I need to gauge her interest, so I sidle a little closer. She doesn't flinch away, which means she's interested, or maybe she just doesn't care, or maybe she's beyond reacting.

It may be my imagination but she seems to actually incline towards me as she smokes.

While I'm enjoying the closeness, our hunched-over position really isn't conducive to seduction, so I lean back on my elbows and look up at the sky.

She follows my unspoken suggestion and leans back too, her very respectable breasts jutting up quite nicely.

I try not to be too obvious about staring, but she can obviously tell, and she doesn't seem too upset. I almost suspect the hint of a smile at the very corner of her lips.

"How you been?" I ask when the timing finally seems right.

At first she does not answer, just puffs on the cigarette and stares at the dark. Finally she stubs the cigarette out on the steps and turns her head slightly toward me. "You really want to know?" she asks.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't" I answer, "I don't ever say things just to be polite."

"Yeah I've noticed that," she says "whereas we" and at this she gestures broadly to indicate her siblings and their spouses back in the house "never say anything real."

"Yeah I've noticed that too," I respond in kind. "If you ever need to hear something real or say something real I'm available."

"How real do you want?" she finally asks.

"As real as you can get, and you're looking enticingly real these days."

She snorts at the obviousness of the line, but I also detect a slight blush of appreciation.

"I'm happy," she answers slowly and carefully, "in touch with myself for the first time ever, safe without needing drugs, loving myself completely, and now that I'm safe, bored out of my mind, horny as hell, and craving excitement. How are you?"

"Desperately wanting to fuck your brains out upstairs while my wife, the rest of your siblings and their spouses sit around my dining room eating my food and making meaningless chit chat. Shall we go in?"