#101789 - §§§ Of course Maggie loved her brother, and was even in love with him, she supposed (her twin brother, she’d fondly emphasize, suggesting to herself a cosmic simpatico between them she hoped would absolve her of the stigma of her creepy lusts) and had so much as vaguely entertained a crush on him since they were teenagers; a seemingly innocuous crush that their fans and the media continued to dismiss, to her relief, as just the mutual affection of a brother-sister music act – just a couple of cute kids – still now and despite their maturity; a caress, a teasing squeeze, a quick kiss on the lips – the flirty, spirited one just being affectionately supportive of her brooding, reclusive brother (backstage before one performance many years ago, as the club emcee tried to assuage a half-drunk and rowdy, almost violently skeptical house – really, these kids rock! – a beered-up George gave Maggie’s ass cheek a lingering little squeeze and whispered to her “wish us luck …,” a gesture fro
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