Sell Me Ch. 04byKalIsBack©
Author's Note: I do indeed hope you like long stories. We haven't crested the hill quite yet, and the ride's only just gotten interesting.
One more thing. I feel compelled to add this particular note: While writing, I think long and hard about my characters. It's not a one-day sprint to get thoughts down on the paper. It's more like a marathon, replete with all the requisite work that an endurance event entails. In that work, I come across many of the situational dilemmas you readers have pointed out to me, and I assure that I've already mentally addressed most of them; they'll all come out on paper in my own peculiar fashion when they're ripe, and not a single moment sooner. I aim for a semblance of realistic behavior in my writing, and nothing happens in a flash in the real world. So rest assured... loose threads are definitely NOT my style. ;)
I read your comments – especially the negative ones – with interest, delight, and sometimes mirth. It's like reading a reflection of my own thoughts, and I find it very diverting. So thank you for telling me. It lets me know you're paying attention, and it keeps me on my toes!
Whew. That said...
I woke up on the sofa, not entirely sure how I got there, with an intense headache I couldn't explain. I checked my watch, and it was almost noon. I lay there and stared up at the ceiling, trying to connect the dots in my head, studying the play of light across the ceiling. It only took me a minute, and then I kind of wished I hadn't. Aww, shit. My body complained as I sat upright, and my head decided it wanted to double as a practice ball for some MLB hotshot. I recalled some random bit of knowledge about hangovers from a class I'd just taken. They were the result of dehydration, and the lack of water led to lower levels of oxidation or reduction and some shit that had to do with failure to complete the Citric Acid cycle. I couldn't focus, and my train of thought petered out. Ugh.
After a lot of deliberation, I decided that there was no more reason to fret over what I'd done. What was done was done, and I couldn't undo it. I wasn't happy with it, but I couldn't undo it. I'd make up for it... somehow. If I could. Bah. Life had too many if's.
I'd fucked up.
That was about the only thing I knew for certain.
I rolled off of the couch and went upstairs to go to the bathroom. Moving slowly so I wouldn't aggravate my headache, I crept upstairs and hesitated outside my bedroom, saying a quick prayer before turning the knob. I inched the door open, slowly peeking around the corner, tensing in case I needed to leave in a hurry. I didn't want to see anyone, if anyone was still there. Thankfully, the room was empty. I took care of my business, taking a shower and cleaning up to make myself presentable. I was a spectacle. Hair unkempt, stubble on my face, sticky from last night's activities – an all around mess. My mouth tasted like shit. It took me a whole half hour in the bathroom before I considered myself to be clean, coming from someone who's normally in and out in ten minutes, shower included. I put on a normal suit of clothes before going back out into my room and half jogging down the stairs. I was starving, so I headed straight for the kitchen.
The sound of voices threw me for a moment, and I stood just to the side of the archway, gathering up the courage to face the girls. It would be awkward at best, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I put on a neutral face and strode in like I normally did, but didn't get around to any casual morning greetings. I'd fucked one of the two, and fucked her hard, but didn't know which one. I couldn't ask for obvious reasons. Regardless of who came into my room, the other one probably didn't know about it. If it was Sam, Sandy might have left on the spot. I doubted that she was that open-minded. Hell, I wasn't even that open minded, really. It kind of just happened between us. If it was Sandy, I would have guessed that Sam would be pretty upset. I'd have been jealous, at the very least, if I were in her shoes.
I headed straight to the cereal and poured myself a bowl of Cheerios. Yeah. Cheery my ass. The whispering stopped, and I glanced over at the both of them, peeking out of the corner of my eye. Sam was sitting with her back to where I was standing and Sandy was on her right so I could see her in profile. They had both showered, and Sandy wore a pair of pale pink pajamas while Sam was wearing a white linen bathrobe. Neither of them looked disheveled or tired or out of sorts, but that was the extent of the normalcy of the situation. They only pushed their cereal around in their bowls, and little pieces of toast next to them had only been delicately nibbled. Shit. Never a good sign.
I sat down at the table, taking one side all to myself. The rectangular dinner table was meant to sit six people: one at each end, and two on each side. Sammy sat one end, and Sandy was on her right. I sat on the right side of the other end of the table, digging into my food. Lack of dinner had left me starving, but combined with the night's antics, I was all but ready to eat the table. I had two full bowls, and then half of another, and none of us spoke a single word the entire time.
"Sooo," Sam began tentatively, and I put my spoon down. Both the girls were watching me, and I suddenly felt like a very small animal trapped between two wolves. Their gazes weren't aggressive, or angry, or even upset, but there was an intensity in their expressions that cowed me into silence. I looked back and forth between the two, and then turned back to my cereal. "Crazy night, huh?" Sam continued. Her question was toneless, and I couldn't tell whether or not she knew more than she was letting on. It was frustrating in the extreme. "You remember when you asked me to sell you?" I nodded mutely. "Well, I'd say one of your conditions was met. I'm ready to tell you a story now, if you don't mind."
"Sure," I mumbled.
Sam pushed her bowl away and fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. "Mom called you two days after it happened. That day, the first day after it happened and I was in the hospital, she was a mess. Way worse than I was. She couldn't stop crying, and the doctors had to sedate her.
"Since I was already done with finals, I'd just gone out with some of my friends that night to celebrate. Nothing fancy, just a house party. I knew everyone would be getting shit-faced, and since I wasn't allowed to drink, I volunteered to be the designated driver. Happiness all around. I messed around at the party. You know how it goes. Groping, petting, sex behind closed doors, and just a little sipping for me. Not even enough to buzz me. We were just about to leave when it happened. I'd gone to get the car and bring it up front so the girls wouldn't have to walk very far. Hell, they couldn't have made the walk even if they wanted to. We'd gotten there a little late, so I was parked at the end of the next block, right at the cross street. I remember humming to myself, dancing just a little bit. I felt him first touch me when I put a hand on the door handle. I remember being a little shocked that I hadn't heard him coming."
Sam took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not going to give you all the details. You don't need to hear them, and I don't want to talk about them. I ended up with the bruises because I wouldn't go along with what he wanted me to do. I..." here she paused and closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head back and forth. "I don't know if he was some guy from the party, or just someone walking by. I could tell he was drunk, though. He made me kiss him, and I could taste something in his mouth. And I remember that he never tried to stop me from screaming. He'd hit me a little harder, but he never tried to stop me. He didn't grab my throat or anything like that. He was grabbing my body and touching himself, and trying to get my pants down. That's what messed him up in the end. I was still screaming when a car drove by. Two girls and a guy got out, and he ran. I don't know if he got away or not."
I looked up at Sam. Her voice was steady but her eyes were moist, and she was just on the verge of crying. She stared off at the cabinets to my left while she absentmindedly toyed with her spoon, scooping up milk and pouring it back into the mush her cereal had softened into. "They called an ambulance, and then I went to the hospital. I don't remember all of it, because I passed out sometime on the way there. I woke up, and Mom and Dad were standing over me, crying."
Neither Sandy nor I spoke as she finished recounting the incident. I wanted to go over and hold her, to wrap her in my arms, but I was afraid to touch her, afraid that it was her I'd hurt last night. Sandy didn't have any such reservations, so she leaned over to give Sam a hug. I stood and left the room, going to the living room.
I couldn't know, but at the same time, I now needed to know. If it was Sam, I had to make my peace with what I'd done to her, to make sure she understood that I hadn't meant to do any of it. But I couldn't find the words. I sat on the couch with a frustrated groan, pounding a cushion and wondering why life had to go and get so complicated. Why couldn't we just be a normal brother-sister duo? Why did we have to start fooling around?
"Jack," a voice whispered. I turned to see Sandy coming towards me, and she sat down on the couch next to me. She took both my hands in hers and looked me in the eye. "I know what you're going through right now, but-"
"No you don't, Sandy. You have no idea what this feels like. I promise you don't."
"Fair enough. But listen. I may not know about how you two interact, but I do know about women. This situation can't be about you right now. It's Sam that you need to worry about. She's just shared a painful experience with you, and she needs reassuring. She needs you to understand. You need to go to her."
"Shh. You're being selfish. She's hurting, can't you see? There's a reason she picked you over your parents. There's a reason she's told you the story. We've been up for a while, but she refused to tell me what happened until you were with us. And about last night...It doesn't matter which one of us came into your room. I know about you and Sam, and Sam knows about you and me."
One weight was lifted off of my chest, and another one settled back on me, taking its place. "You know about us?"
Sandy half-smiled. "Yeah. We had a little wine with dinner last night, and your sister doesn't hold her alcohol well. She spilled the whole thing, and I don't mind, really. It's hard not to be attracted to you, Jack, and while it's not the most conventional sibling relationship, I think it's just fine between you two. But really, would it even matter to you if I disapproved? She loves you Jack, and you need to show her you love her back." Sandy stood, pulling me up with her. She put both hands on my chest and pushed me away. "Now go. I'll still be here when you're done, and you and I can talk some more if you want."
I turned and walked towards the kitchen, thoroughly befuddled. Sam's story set me on edge, and now Sandy knowing about us worried me too. I mean, she was a nice girl and all, but I hardly knew her. Could I trust her?
I stood there in the doorway for a minute, trying to compose a few thoughts in my head. It was hard to put my feelings into words. I'd never really been good at it, embedding my emotions into playful joshing or the usual sibling teasing. Sam was my sister, and I loved her. This new aspect of our relationship was an unusual twist, but it didn't change anything between us, really. I still would have laid down in front of a train for her, and I still wanted to kill the fucker that hurt her.
But what if I'd just hurt her again?
I shook the thought away. Sandy was right. Regardless of what I'd done, there was another issue on the table that needed dealing with. I was worried about what to say, though. I had no idea what she was thinking, or what she was feeling, or what she wanted or needed to hear.
They say honesty is the best policy.
I walked over to Sam and knelt on the ground next to her chair, laying my head in her lap and wrapping my arms around her waist. One of her hands moved down to my head and played with my hair. I'd never know why she liked that, although I did find it somewhat enjoyable. Her long, slender fingers ran through my hair and caressed my scalp with easy, gentle motions, running from the nape of my neck up to the front of my hairline, and occasionally tracing my ear.
"So Sammy. Tell me something." It was a phrase that, as much I'd heard it, I hadn't perfected. It didn't come out of my mouth nearly as smoothly as it came from hers.
"Do you know the price of gas?"
She made a sound, a sort of huff that I hoped she meant as a laugh. "Jackie, what the fuck does that have to do anything?"
"Bear with me."
"No, not offhand."
"Good. It's expensive as hell."
"I still don't see what that has to do anything."
"Do you know that I spent over eight hundred dollars in gas driving down here and back for spring break? My car doesn't get very good gas mileage. It wasn't made for any kind of trip, you know. It's strictly for show. And awesomeness. Sam, I was thinking-"
"God help us."
"I know, right? But seriously, I was thinking. You know, if I moved down here, I wouldn't have to spend six hundred bucks in gas for every holiday and break. I could finish up school here. I don't know if I'd live at home or on campus, being a bachelor with a reputation to maintain, but I'd probably live pretty close. Just out of range of Mom and Dad, but close enough to you."
"Shh. I can guess what you're about to say. Do you really think I'd choose school over you? As soon as I heard what happened, I left. I didn't even take my finals. It burned me up, seeing you hurt like that. I can't stand to see you afraid or scared, or anything other than the pain in my ass you've been for as long as I can remember. These past few days have been really mindless for me. I sit around playing games all day because I don't know what else to do. I want-"
I couldn't really tell her what I wanted, because I didn't know it myself. I wanted a bit of revenge, that was certain, but I had no way about finding out how I'd get it. I didn't have the resources or the know-how to find the guy who'd done it, and I didn't think delving into police matters would be the best way to go. Mom had called and told me that Sam didn't have enough details for the police to put out a bulletin, and also that the police had pretty much called it quits. I'd neglected to tell Sam that piece of news.
I wanted to regain a measure of sanity too. I wanted to resolve whatever we'd become, one way or another, for good or bad. That was a knot I couldn't even begin to untie, and nothing short of a long, serious conversation would help either one of us on that front.
I sighed. "I'm going to transfer down here for the next two years, and I'll finish up college just a year ahead of you. That way, I can make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again."
She was quiet for a long time. "Are you sure, Jackie? I mean, it was just an accident, and it's not likely to happen again. I'll take better care of myself. I'll go around with some pepper spray, and maybe a knife or something. I won't go out without someone big and bulky to make sure I'm okay."
"You have someone big and bulky at your feet right now."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes. Exactly what you said."
"I don't think-"
"Sam." I interrupted, looking up at her. "Are you going to make me say it?"
Confusion flashed across her face, and her brow creased. But then the moment passed, and a smile started to grow. Her green eyes glittered with mirth. It was something we'd done when we were little kids, back when Mom dropped us off at school. Just before we got out of the car, Mom would always ask us that, and hold out her cheek expectantly. The exchange was simple. Either we gave her a kiss on the cheek along with the requisite words, or we'd be embarrassed in front of our friends.
"I just might."
"I'm considering it."
"Yes, I'm going to make you say it."
"Say it," she goaded.
"I love you, Saaaammmmyyy," I intoned in a high, nasally voice that, while it didn't sound anything like my mother, was the voice we'd often imitate her with.
She slapped the back of my head playfully. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"Yes. But you know I have to get you back for that, right?"
"Get me back? It's not like you're going to make me say it. How could you – Ooooh."
Her sentence ended in a soft sigh when I pressed my face into her stomach, working aside the robe she was wearing. There was nothing but Samantha underneath, and I pushed my tongue out to trace a small, wet circle around her belly button.
"That's not fair," she muttered.
"Who said anything about being fair?" My hands reached up to undo the knot holding her robe together, but she beat me to it. The robe fell open, and my hands began exploring her body, trekking over terrain that I'd become familiar with. I'd learned what she found terribly teasing and what she enjoyed, and what she didn't like. I focused mostly on the teasing part, doing what I knew would piss her off in the best way. Down below, I still played around, refusing the invitation of her parted legs. I toyed with her for a few minutes, getting her worked up.
"Will you say it?" I queried, nipping the inside of her right thigh.
"Not until you say it."
"Damn you, Jack. Come on. Let's not do this here."
"Couch?" I put my lips not an inch from her pussy lips and pursed them together, blowing a stream of warm air onto her sensitive skin. "Bed?" She scrunched her hips forward, and I pulled back.
"It could be the hood of a car. I don't care."
An image flashed through my mind. Sammy topless on the hood of my Camaro, legs splayed open, one hand toying with a breast while the other hand beckoned me forward. Hair flowing loosely back over her shoulder, her sweaty and smiling. She knew how to entice.
She stood, and I led her into the living room where Sandy was waiting.
"Well that was quick," she said with a wry grin. Her eyes ran over the both of us, pausing on Sam's open robe and the bulge in my pants. "Seems like you two are happy with one another. Want me to leave?"
"Do you want to?" Sam asked as she settled down on the couch, laying back and resting her head on the arm.
"Not really, no. If you don't mind, I'd like to watch."
"Sure." If I'd had a mind to think with at the time, the exchange would have stunned me. But as it was, all my mental faculties added up to just about null, and I could only see a beautiful, desirable woman in front of me. Scratch that. My beautiful, desirable sister. "Now Jack, I think you were in the middle of something? It's not nice to keep a girl waiting."
"I was in the middle of something, yeah, but I think you wanted to tell me something?" Sam rolled her eyes. I knelt between her legs again, and stabbed my tongue into the fold of her lips, running its length from the bottom to the top of her slit in one long, slow motion. She shivered with pleasure.
"Are you sure?" I did it again, but at the top, I flicked the tip of my tongue across her clitoris and then sucked. Sam gasped.
"Nooooo," she moaned, biting into a pillow.
"You're positive?" I repeated the move, and then flicked my tongue back and forth across her button more enthusiastically.
I laughed. "We're making progress. Once more, with feeling." I slid one finger inside of her, all the way to my knuckle. Her legs clapped together, squeezing the side of my head. If she'd have done it just right, she might have busted my eardrums.