Siblings with Benefits Ch. 08bylovecraft68©
Unlike after the last story which had gotten me quite emotional, this time I laughed out loud as Mark finished up. He had been right that was a fun memory. Back before things started getting out of control for both of us, back when Mark and I were still living with the folks, and the sneaking and secrecy added even more of a thrill to the already hot sex we were having. After that afternoon there were many family meals Mark and I would sit and smile at each other, knowing full well that afterwards while mom watched game shows, and dad read the paper or napped we would be upstairs, doors locked fucking like animals. As usual Mark had come up with exactly what I had needed. Even the thought of the cheerleader uniform was great. That had led to another hot time and in the folk's bed no less.
"And I did wear it for you didn't I little brother?" I asked him.
"Yup the next weekend, looked damn good too." He laughed. "Hell that little thing you wore earlier reminded me of it. You still got the legs sis."
I slowly straightened them out raising them up and pointing my toes down they always had been my best feature.
"Those legs." Mark agreed, as starting at the top of my foot he ran his hand down my right leg. I lifted them straight up in the air causing the robe slid up to my hips. I wasn't wearing anything underneath and could feel the cool night air on my pussy. That feeling was replaced by Marks finger as he slid it inside.
"Ooohh" I let out a surprised moan.
Mark's thumb found my clit and I bent my legs at the knees unable to keep them straight up as he played. Reaching inside the robe with his left hand he started twisting the barbell in my nipple. Not hard, just enough to pull the sensitive skin back and forth. I started to move, but Mark held me close to him and whispered;
"Just sit back and let your little brother take care of you."
I was in no mood to argue. I closed my eyes and laid my head against his muscular chest. I let myself completely relax as his talented fingers slowly worked my wet pussy. Within minutes I was moaning softly into his neck as the orgasm flowed through me. It wasn't as hard as my previous ones of the day but it was soooo nice. I sighed, and sat up straight, feeling Marks hard cock pressing into my ass. I was starting to wonder if I could take the chance of moving the robe to ride him on the deck. There was no one else outside, and even all the lights around us were out. I stood up to tell him when my blackberry went off on the small table. I glanced over but couldn't see the number from where I was.
"You don't need to get that do you?" Mark asked.
"Screw that. I have a cock to take care of." I told him as I started to lift my robe. "How about I go for a ride?"
"Inside." Mark said as the phone stopped.
"Whatever you want little brother." I certainly wasn't going to disagree.
The phone started again, and Mark rolled his eyes.
"Just check it sis, it might be important."
With a sigh I stepped away checking the number. It was Royce.
"It's my dealer." I realized how bad that sounded. "Art dealer." I added.
"I know Meg. Does he always call at one am.?" Mark seemed annoyed which was odd he was usually pretty easy going about little things.
"He knows I paint at night, plus knows I'm usually up anyways."
"And how does he know that?" Mark asked definitely sounding aggravated now. What was up tonight? It's not like I wasn't a sure thing.
The phone had stopped ringing, and I heard the voice mail chime in.
"Trust me Mark if he were here Royce would want to sit on your lap not mine. He's positively flaming." I paused. "Could be big though, I had the showing yesterday."
"Then call him back." Mark sighed and sat back.
I looked at him sitting there shirtless, that perfectly flat stomach, the massive bad ass tattoo's, and that huge bulge in his pants. Goddamn he looked hot! I hesitated It's not like Royce couldn't wait until tomorrow. I mean this was my vacation after all.
"I'm not going anywhere, make your call I'll sit out here." Mark said. He didn't sound pissed anymore just sort of disgusted.
"You sure Mark? I feel like a bitch."
"No problem. Come get me when you're done."
I looked at him for a moment Mark had that intense look in his eyes that he got whenever there was something on his mind. Well big sister could take care of that. I'd wear him out then get him to talk. Just like the old days.
"Yeah?" I pouted. "You'll wait for your sexy big sister?"
I went to kiss him on the cheek, but he caught my lips with a soft kiss.
"I've waited a long time for you sis. I can wait a few more minutes."
Before I could respond the damn phone started again. Mark turned away from me putting his left leg up on the railing and crossing his arms as if ending any further conversation. I stared for a moment ignoring the phone wondering what he had just meant. My brother was as straightforward as you could get and certainly never wasted words. I wasn't really sure how to take what he had just said. I was just getting ready to shut the phone off when Mark spoke without turning around;
"Just answer the phone Meg."
I shook my head and left the deck. As I shut the glass door behind me, I stood and watched Mark. His right leg was shaking back and forth, a telltale sign he was nervous. As if to confirm that thought he reached out, and took another cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it. Definitely something going on, it just seemed all of a sudden. Then again maybe it had been there earlier and I had just been wrapped up in my own drama to see it. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that had happened that's for sure.
Years ago I had known Mark had found Max and after talking him out of going after him, did the right thing and stayed with him for a couple of weeks to make sure he would be okay. Afraid it was looking funny I was staying at his place so long I decided to stay with Tommy, long story short I fell off the wagon and leaving my brother a note left town again.
Within days Mark had gotten Max back to his apartment, I was on my way back from Boston where miraculously I had managed to stay straight and called Mark who already sounding as if he were cracking told me Max was on his way over. I immediately called the police but they didn't believe me. I called again from outside Mark's place over Mitch's the bar where he worked at the time.
They finally showed up but not before Mark had broken over a dozen bones in Max's body. At that thought I had the sudden terrifying image of Mark, covered in blood and screaming like a maniac, standing over the twitching all but unrecognizable body of Max Thompson. With a shudder I pushed that image out of my mind. I should have never left Mark's side, should have never given in again to my weakness. I could have prevented the event that almost ruined my brother's life before he had even gotten started.
To this day Mark still not only has nightmares of Max beating him as a child, but also replays that horrific day in his mind over and over. My brother had lost it that day. Ending up in butler hospital for two weeks before it was decided that he had only been a danger to Max because of the history between them. I had managed to talk my brother down at his apartment and helped him through the hospital stay and had also managed to enlist the aid of his friend Alex Warner to hire a lawyer to defend my brother and see that it never made trial. Mark of course says to this day that he owes me his life, but the reality is I had let him down when he most needed me.
On that note I turned and walked away going into the living room to call Royce back. I knew better than to continue down that path of blame. What's done is done. All I can do is make sure that it will never happen again, that I'm there for Mark whenever he needs me. It had made me feel much better a couple of years ago when I was there to pick up the pieces after he pushed Samantha away. Mark had needed his sister and I had stayed for two weeks until I was absolutely sure he would be okay.
I sat on the couch, stretched my legs out on the coffee table, and called Royce wondering if it really was a big deal or if maybe he was just looking for someone to talk to. Royce and I had met at an NA meeting when I had first moved to Chicago. Like me Royce had been clean only about a year and was also trying to get his career going again. I truly believe it was fate that had put us together. Royce is ten years older than me and had been an art dealer of no small reputation until his habits over took him and he had a fall from grace.
Royce however had always been a likable guy, and a couple of his bigger clients took him back as their agent. He had just started to get some of his reputation back when he asked me if I would be interested in letting him show some of my things. Royce paid immediate dividends showing my paintings to Abigail Lefay the owner of the Black Flame. In another sign that fate was trying to help me out, this was the same Abigail that my brother Mark had been talking about for years and was planning on introducing me to when he could make it down.
Apparently Mark knew Abigail from both his "Group" as well as the occult circuit. Abigail was a direct descendant of a family of witches from Salem and was a sanctioned priestess of the church of Satan. Needless to say between her finding out that I knew Mark, was a disciple of Levay, and had Royce talking up my work, things worked out better than I could have expected. Abigail let me display my paintings in her club for ten percent of the sales; Royce received another fifteen and the rest was mine. I had done quite well there and my reputation was beginning to spread.
Since that time Royce and I had become pretty good friends one of the few each one of us had. We would call each other if one of us was having a rough time. So there was always the chance he had just called because he was struggling. This time though it was not the case. Royce had called to tell me that Albert Walsh, an eccentric millionaire that was heavily into the occult had sent a spotter to my showing yesterday.
As I listened with my heart beating fast in my chest Royce proceeded to tell me that Walsh had called him a half hour ago and wanted to meet me. More than that, he wanted to commision me to paint a series of "visions" he claimed to have had while meditating. Walsh, who was a bit of an artist himself had drawn sketches of these and wanted them painted. According to Royce, Walsh had said he wanted them and he was quoting "Brought to nightmarish reality, and only the Decosta touch could do them justice".
I had been a little put off at that point. I do originals not interpretations. Royce then explained that Walsh was talking well over six figures and was ready to put down half up front if they could be completed by the end of the year. Royce had continued to talk for awhile but I wasn't really listening. Over one hundred thousand dollars! For my work! The only drawback was Walsh was leaving for Europe Saturday and wanted to meet Friday morning. I had planned on staying until next Sunday, but would obviously have to leave on Thursday.
I felt bad, having looked forward to an entire week with Mark as well as some time with the folks, but Albert Walsh! Mark would be disappointed, since I had moved to Chicago we only saw each other every few months or so. Fact was Mark hadn't been happy with me moving down there in the first place, but he understood why. I could have never gotten a new start here with so many painful memories around me. I needed a clean slate and after a few months of abstinence had found out that my best friend from college Betty, who had also been my first true "girlfriend" was moving down to Chicago and went down there with her. We stayed with her cousin for awhile which was when I had met Royce and made my first few sales enabling me to support myself for the first time in my life. Except for missing Mark and my parents I have never questioned it was the right move.
I hung up with Royce and resisted the urge to jump up and down like a little girl. I had been doing well the last couple of years making close to the six figure mark last year, but this was huge! Walsh was constantly surrounded by a group of rich poser's, the type that if he bought one of my paintings and loved it then of course they would have to have one as well. At that point I could name my price; this could literally set me up for years to come! If there had been any lingering effects of the melancholy that had brought me up here in the first place they were certainly gone now. For the first time in my life I felt like my brother, felt that I had taken control of my destiny and taken what I wanted.
Speaking of my little brother; there was some hot celebratory sex to be had! Between the good news and the ride I planned on taking him on he would get over me leaving sooner than I was supposed to. Then I would find out what was on his mind. As complicated as Mark put himself out to be he was in the end a typical man; fuck his brains out and he would tell me anything. Before I got up to go claim my hot little brother I glanced down at the phone and saw I had two voicemails. I had thought I only heard Royce leave one. I dialed in and out the phone to my ear to listen. The first one was Royce and I laughed as I listened to it;
"Hey sweetie it's Royce when you get off your knees, get on the phone and give me a call."
The second message however took the smile off my face.
"Hey Megan its Laura," She paused for a moment I could already hear she was emotional.
"I... um just wanted to let you know I was at our, I mean you're house today to get the last of my things. I left the keys and the spare key to your car on the table." There was another pause and I could picture her trying not to cry, her big baby blue eyes filling up. When she continued however she sounded better than when she had started;
"Listen Megan I'm sorry I didn't take things well. I didn't mean a lot of what I said. I was just upset. I know I said I would make sure the magazine sent someone else to cover your next showing that I couldn't see you anymore, but I really want to if it's okay with you. I... I understand it wasn't either one of us. I was looking for more and I'm sorry I called you cold. I know you gave as much as you could. We'll both find what we want. I know you don't think you can but you will Megan. You've been through a lot and you need that special someone who can understand you."
I listened with mixed emotions; sadness at the fact that it had ended at all, but happy that Laura sounded like she was doing okay with it. When we had ended I had been more upset for her than myself. For me this was getting to be old hat, but Laura had not been in many relationships and I had selfishly let her fall hard and fast hoping she could be the one.
"Well I know when most people break up they always focus on the bad, and I just wanted to let you know that I'm choosing to remember the good times because there were a lot of those, I hope you do too. You're a better person than you think Megan and were always good to me. I know you're on vacation visiting your family, but when you come back give me a call I'd like to keep in touch. Bye Megan."
I sat back and found myself smiling. A day ago I would have seen that call as another reminder of my problems; another sign that I wasn't like everyone else that I couldn't be happy. However after a fantastic twenty four hours with Mark, and the news Royce had just given me, I was in a much better frame. Laura was right, people especially myself always remembered the bad times. Hell Mark and I had been through plenty of them, but had spent the last couple of hours recalling some of our best times. It was too late to call Laura back, but I would make sure that I did tomorrow, tell her how much I appreciated what she had said, and would love to keep in touch with her.
As I sat back I found myself thinking of some of those times with Laura. I had spent close to a year with her but quickly looking back on it I think the first time I had been with her was the best. Laura had been so shy, I would find out later she normally never was, but she had been a fan of my work, and when she met me at one of my showings was completely taken by me and had no idea that I was open to women. She had been like a young girl who had suddenly been asked out by the most popular boy in school. As if in tribute to our time together I decided to stay inside for a few more minutes and let that night play through my mind.
I met Laura at one of my showings at The Black Flame. It was towards the end of the exhibit which I thought had gone pretty well, all in all it had been a good day. A few moments later it would become a great day. I was just getting ready to start taking some of the paintings down when someone called my name.
I turned to see an extremely attractive blonde woman who looked to be in her late twenties standing there with a small notepad in her hands. She introduced herself as Laura Manning a reporter from Art scope a Chicago based online Magazine. I told her I had heard of it, and she asked me if I might have a couple of minutes to answer some questions for her. I'm not really one to talk much about my work, I like to think it should speak for itself, but was smart enough to realize that press was a good thing. I admit that the fact that Laura was absolutely beautiful added to the desire to spend some time talking to her.
As I answered some basic questions, I let my eyes wander over her; I wasn't blatant, waiting until she would start writing to check her out. Laura was a little shorter than me, with gorgeous honey blond hair that she had up in a bun that was way too old for her and that I was already dying to see down. She was wearing a small pair of those librarian type glasses that screamed sexy professional behind which were a pair of huge baby blue eyes. The finishing touch on that flawless face was a pair of soft full lips that were very much like my own.
Working my gaze downward I discovered that Laura's perfection did not end at her face. Despite her obvious efforts to cover them with a very businesslike blazer, Laura's breasts were still quite prominent pushing the blazer out and still showing a fair amount of cleavage as well as just a teasing glimpse of what looked like a black lace bra. Laura's skirt was slightly above the knee and from what I could see of her legs they were as well shaped as the rest of her. All in all Laura had the appearance of one of those hot high school teachers that every boy fantasized about at night. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't already had a couple flit through my mind.
As I've mentioned I do not check out women on a regular basis, but Laura had me all but staring. My interest was piqued even more when after it occurred to me I had been staring for awhile and not paying attention, I looked back up and was pleasantly surprised to see Laura's eyes fixated on my legs. I was wearing a long black skirt with slits that ran all the way up to my hips. The front and back of the skirt were held together with lengths of chain. I was wearing a black lace tank top that fell short exposing my stomach and the silver pendant that hung from my pierced naval. My long black hair was down and I was wearing very little make up except for the deep red lipstick which accentuated my perfect lips.
I watched Laura's eyes work their way up from my long legs to my stomach, then linger on my tits which were propped up well by the top. I was wearing a lace bra under the top making my pierced nipples quite visible. The look on Laura's face as she looked up and saw me looking was priceless.
"You were saying?" I asked pretending that I had been paying attention.