The historic Androy Hotel

The Androy Hotel was built in the 1925, and while its aged about as well as the rest of Superior and Duluth (less like a fine wine, more like a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20) it still evokes a sense of grandeur with its red carpet, intricately carved molding, and high ceilings. In your mind’s eye you can see it as it was in ages past, like an old movie. Cary Grant sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs with a newspaper. Jerry Lewis in a bellhop uniform. Gene Kelly and Judy Garland dancing on the mezzanine balcony above. Sadly those days are long gone but some of the charm of yesteryear still permeates the place almost as much as the stale cigarette smoke and **** permeate that same red carpet.

You enter from the back where the parking lot is, and make haste into the main lobby, nodding politely to the tall thin desk clerk, who looks up from his book and grins sardonically at you. “Rough weather today, Ryan?”

Your room is under your Ryan Morningstar alias. “Yeah. I’ll be here for at least the night, ****. How is everyone?”

**** pulls off his glasses and begins cleaning them. “Margie is just as crazy as ever. David is taking a leave of absence cause Lauren had the baby.” He sighs and shakes his shaggy mop of hair, “Nothing much changes around here.”

“Sounds like par for the course. We’re going to head up and try to dry off. Later man.” He nods and returns to reading Cryptography And Network Security: Principles and Practice, and you turn toward the elevator. Just before you push the button he looks up again. “It’s stuck on 4. Again.”

You mutter under your breath and start up the long staircase to the fifth floor.

Room 5C isn’t much to look at. A small bathroom, a queen sized bed, a tube television, a small table and low dresser, and a radiator. As usual the heat is sweltering, but it’s clean, and the WiFi and cable come with the room. You’ve kept a stash of clothes here as well as a laptop and some other tools of the trade, but none of that matters now. What maters is getting those damn dress shoes off. With them removed you sigh with relief and begin to fully disrobe. Beth takes your cue and does the same, and soon you’re both naked.

As hot as the room is you’re both soaked through and chilled to the bone. Someone from a warmer climate would probably hop into a steaming shower, but you and Beth grew up here, you know the best thing now is to dry off and get warm clothes on.

“Towels in the bathroom,” you say moving toward the dresser, “I’ll find us something to wear.”

Beth disappears into the closet-like bathroom and you rummage around until you find a bathrobe, a pair of flannel lounging pants, and a t-shirt.

It starts with you offering to dry her off. Her naked body shivers in front of you, and not just because of the cold. You once more feel a stirring in your loins, but you’ve already gone off twice in less than a day. Still, just because your dick isn’t the one making the calls right now doesn’t mean she shouldn’t enjoy herself. After patting her dry you begin to slowly, gently, explore the surface of her body, now with a critical eye rather than the lust fueled pawing that has heretofore been par for the course. She closes her eyes and leans back into you, sighing contentedly.

Your fingers trail across the skin of her neck, her arms, her breasts; memorizing every inch, committing each aspect of your sister to a permanent memory. The knowledge that she’s yours eliminates the need to rush, and you feel contentment surge through you as you run your fingertips over her belly, gravitating ever lower.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper in her ear as your hand drifts over her mons, a moan of pleasure your only answer, “I love you, Beth.”

Her hand grips your wrist and she spins around to face you, looking up at you with tears in her eyes.