Twins Ch. 01 - Childhood Home

Here it was. The house she grew up in. Sasha approached along the garden path that passed by the main entrance. She looked up, squinting, and raised her hand to block the setting sun that spilled over the single slope roof.

The place hadn't changed much in the ten years she'd been gone, at least not on the outside. She supposed that it was hard to improve on the tasteful contrast of light and dark colours juxtaposed with bright panes of mirrored glass. Sasha could remember being proud to bring friends home. She used to think it was like living in Malibu Barbie's beach house, but the way Mom had treated her and Dad after they split cast the house in a new light. The gardens, although largely unchanged and still beautifully built and manicured, now seemed gaudy and excessive. Why couldn't her mother have spared a fraction of this wasted wealth to help her and Dad? Would he still be alive today if she had?

Over the years, Sasha had wondered if the financial isolation was punishment for choosing to live with Dad instead of her. Maybe Riley was to blame. Her twin sister might've had a five-hundred-dollar-a-day coke problem that diverted the funds that could have helped pay for Dad's medical bills, instead of forcing Sasha to work two jobs.

Sasha took a deep breath outside the front door and tried to purge her negative thoughts. Should she knock? Was this house still her home? Had Mother stripped the walls of her old room bare, or was there a trace of her left inside?

Her hand moved of its own volition, forming a fist and rapping firmly on the frosted glass pane. Thanks, instincts. Probably a good call.

The door opened after a short pause. The young woman who stood in the foyer was instantly recognizable as her fraternal twin sister, Riley. Her hair had grown out, still mousey brown, but finally rid of the short tomboy haircut she had worn as a child. She had the same dark eyebrows - thick, but not bushy, framing hazel eyes. Riley's face was rounder than she remembered, but still pale with fine features and a dusting of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks.

Though fully grown, she was still half a head shorter than Sasha. It seemed as though puberty had been otherwise kind, though the loose fitting track pants and baggy sweater could have been hiding just about anything.

What should she say to her estranged sister whom she hadn't seen in a decade? Probably something comforting. Mom had just died, after all. It wasn't Riley's fault that she had been such a cold, uncaring bitch. She should say something nice.

Instead, she said, "Dad asked for you, you know. Just before he died. He was delirious, wanted to know where 'little Riley' was." Sasha saw Riley's eyes widen, and the twang of guilt that snapped across her belly almost stopped the next words from her mouth. "Imagine how disappointed he was to learn that his youngest daughter was skiing in the Swiss Alps, and couldn't be bothered to see him."

What the heck was that? Sasha cursed herself for not drawing a tighter reign on her emotions. Dad had been gone for well over a year now, but the anger she'd felt during his slow decline and unsung passing obviously wasn't buried too deep or controlled well.

Riley's face scrunched up like a baby about to bawl. "I wanted to come back, but Mom wouldn't pay for my ticket! What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, maybe sell your skis and buy your own way home? Take responsibility for yourself, for once?" Sasha's breath had become heavy, and blood roared in her hears. This was a mistake - getting re-tangled in her mother's drama, coming here, jumping down Riley's throat without so much as a hello... all of it.

She'd first learned about her mother's death a week ago, when the executor of her estate, a woman who introduced herself as Proctor Monica, had invited her to the funeral. When she declined the invitation, Monica had told her that she was provisionally included in her mother's will, and she could inherit a substantial amount if she would subject herself to the will's terms and conditions. Sasha didn't like the sound of being "subject" to anything, but she still owed a lot of money from when she took care of Dad.

And here she was, at Monica's request, to learn more about her provisional inheritance. At her childhood home, verbally attacking her estranged sister for no real reason other than to vent the feelings she'd held in for so long.

Riley looked like she was about to tackle Sasha, but before she could pounce a flash of blonde hair stepped between them. "Girls, please," the woman said, placing a gentle hand on Riley's shoulder. "Let's not let our emotions sour a potentially beneficial arrangement."

She turned to face Sasha, sharp blue eyes seeming to scan her in an instant. "Sasha," she said and held out her hand, which Sasha took after a pause. Her skin was soft, but the handshake firm. "I apologize for not anticipating your reaction to seeing Riley for the first time since your father passed. As perhaps you've already guessed, I am Proctor Monica."

Sasha scowled as she forced herself to accept that the monotone voice of the woman she'd spoken to on the phone was now coming from this supermodel-turned-proctor. She was six feet tall in her black stilettos, which melded seamlessly with black stockings wrapped around perfect legs, up to a mid-thigh tight black skirt and onto a gleaming white blouse that must have taken a team of tailors to achieve such an optimum balance of business and bombshell.

Her face, of course, was equally perfect. Milky skin, sculpted cheekbones and electric blue eyes were framed by straight, strawberry blonde hair that hung in gentle waves down the sides and parted just above her brow.

Sasha speculated that the only thing that might have kept her from walking a runway in Milan or Paris was the apparent absence of human emotion. Although her eyes conveyed obvious intelligence, the overall impression was that she had learned the art of facial expression at an an Asimov film festival.

Sasha wanted to ask her what traumatic event in her life had led her so far into the uncanny valley. Instead, she said, "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Monica replied, the barest smile creeping across her lips that Sasha imagined to be a Herculean effort.

Monica locked eyes with Sasha, pinning her to the spot. "Sasha, am I correct in assuming that you didn't come here with the intention of opening old wounds?"

Sasha cast her eyes down and nodded, not trusting herself to reply in an appropriate way to the woman who held the keys to her financial future.

"In that case, I suggest that we forgive and forget-"

"But-" Riley's angry protest was stifled by a look from Monica.

"Forgive and forget. Over a cup of tea."

***

Monica insisted on making the tea herself, and Sasha watched her gather ingredients and utensils from around the kitchen with a familiar, unsettling ease that awakened her to the fact that she knew very little about this side of the family.

The three of them sipped an exotic tasting herbal tea as Monica droned on about the importance of family and Sasha attempted to not-so subtly steer the conversation towards her reason for coming today.

"So, Proctor Monica. Would you say that our mother's will is unusual in any way?

Monica glanced at Sasha, her face impassive but eyes dancing in amusement as though she'd been waiting for that very question. "Of course. Let me tell you about the conditions pertaining to your mother's will..." Her eyes looked looked thoughtful for a second. "Actually, it may be easier to show than tell," she said, and plucked her phone from a pocket to dial. "Hello... Yes. Please bring them in now."

A few moments later there was a knock at the front door, which Riley answered. Delivery men brought in two large boxes and two small ones and set them in the kitchen while the girls looked on, curious.

"Your mother's will has outlined some... unique challenges for you to overcome in order to claim your inheritance. Some of the details, however, were not explicitly stated in the will, for reasons that will soon become clear."

Proctor Monica handed a small box to each of the girls. Sasha accepted hers tentatively, as though it might explode in her hand. She brushed the pebbled texture with her fingertips, admiring the rich craftsmanship that had gone into making it. A faint seam ran through the middle, begging to be pried open and explored. The opened box revealed a watch-like bracelet, finished in matte black with a large square face, strangely featureless.

Riley had opened her box as well, revealing an identical trinket. "I've never seen these before. Are they part of our inheritance?"

"Not at all," replied Monica. "Kindly remove the items from the box, and examine the clasp mechanism."

Sasha pulled her bracelet free of the padded box and turned it over. The oversized latch that joined the band together had a small but unmistakeable key hole.

"If you wish to proceed with your respective challenges and claim your inheritance, these items will remain affixed to your wrists at all times. I will hold the keys. They will monitor your heart rate and other vital signs."

The girl's eyes met for an instant. This didn't seem too bad, thought Sasha. Riley, always the curious one, asked, "Ok... what for?"

The barest nod. "Excellent question Riley. And a convenient segue. For the duration of the challenges, you are prohibited from having an orgasm. If the bracelet reveals that you have broken this rule, you will not receive any of your inheritance."

Sasha thought she'd heard wrong. She glanced at Riley, who looked at Monica like she'd sprouted a second head.

"Hold up. Did you just say... orgasm?" Riley asked.

"Indeed. This is one of the conditions that your mother stipulated before she passed."

A babble of angry protest erupted from the girls.

"This is ridiculous!"

"Why would she care about that?"

"What? Just... what?"

Monica held up her hand and the chatter abated. "As Proctor, your mother has entrusted me with executing her will in the way she saw fit. She didn't reveal her entire thought process to me... I can only presume that she thought abstaining from physical release will help you focus on your tasks."

"It just doesn't make any sense..." Sasha began, but was cowed by Proctor Monica's intense glare and more-severe-than-usual expression.

"There is no room for debate. You may accept the terms, or leave."

An awkward silence hung heavy in the air while Sasha digested her new reality. Was being monitored weird and kind of creepy? Sure. Could she hold off on rubbing one out for little while, if it meant getting her inheritance?

A thought occurred to her. "How long do we need to wear these for? I mean, how long will the challenges last?"

Monica's expression shifted - was that relief? She was so hard to read. "It is... encouraging that you're adapting so well to your mother's wishes. The challenges will take as long as necessary to complete the specific goals she defined."

Riley placed her hand on her hip. "Which are...?"

"Each of you have a different goal, based on the other's skills and inclinations. You have the option to work alone, but you both need to complete your respective challenges in order to claim your inheritance."

Sasha's scalp prickled at the thought of spending time with her sister. She'd hardly seen Riley since Sasha had gone to live with Dad. The bitch hadn't even shown up for his funeral. But the money...

"I'm in," said Riley, with no hint of reluctance. That's right, Sasha thought. She's the one who knows what she has to lose.

The moment drew on. Proctor Monica's gaze was intense, as though trying to read her mind. Her bright blue eyes pierced into her, the only indicators that the woman had any hint of personality.

"Let's hear it," Sasha said. "The worst I can say is no."

"Very well. Your challenge, Sasha, is to build a gaming computer from scratch and use it to reach level one hundred in the online game "Generic Shooter"."

Sasha furled her brow in dismay. "But, I don't know anything about computers... I've never even played a video game before."

"Precisely so," said Monica. "But I think you'll find Riley very knowledgeable on the subject. She will be with you the entire time."

She looked at Riley, who nodded. "Too easy. With my help, the average person could have this wrapped up in a few weeks, " she paused, taking in Sasha's athletic frame with a crooked smile, "maybe six weeks for someone with more muscle than brains."

Sasha growled, "listen here, you little..."

"Girls!" Monica snapped. "You'll need to work together to succeed."

"This doesn't seem fair. What's her challenge?" Sasha asked, waving an angry arm in Riley's direction.

"That will be revealed at our next meeting. Trust that she will find it equally difficult as you find yours."

Humph. Sasha couldn't wait to see the smug look leave Rileys face when Monica revealed her challenge. At least she had something to look forward to.

"I guess there are worse things than computer games," said Sasha. She eyed the two large boxes on the counter, each wrapped with a bow. "Anything else I should know?"

"Since you ask..." Monica produced a pair of scissors and snipped the bow from the nearest box. She drew off the lid and revealed a curved padded seat that reminded Sasha of a saddle. A strangely shaped ridge of plastic adorned the top, which Sasha found soft and squishy upon touching it.

"I will provide a room in this house for you and Riley to build your computers and advance in the game. And you will remain seated on these for the duration."

Riley came in for a closer look, peering around it from all angles like an ancient relic. "What is this thing?"

Proctor Monica unbound the power cord that dangled from one end of the unit and plugged it in. She flicked a switch at the base of the unit to initiate a quiet hum.

Sahsa's eyes widened with realization. "You've got to be fucking kidding me..."

"I'll do it," said Riley, interrupting Sasha's anger before it could build.

Sasha's rage turned to shock and she glanced at her sister. "What? Do you even know what this thing is?"

"Yes," she said, face flushing as she looked down at her shoes. "I'm not that sheltered... but what choice do we have? I don't know what I'd do without the money."

"Get a job!" Sasha snarled. "I've had to fend for myself ever since Dad got sick. It might do you some good."

Riley blanched and pressed her lips together. Before she could spit venom of her own, Monica raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Please, let's focus on the task at hand. Riley has stated her interest in proceeding. Sasha, are we to interpret your response as an unwillingness to attempt the challenge?"

Sasha was surprised to hear a note of challenge in Monica's voice pushing aside her professional veneer. Why was she so interested in making this happen? If only a gesture of respect for or professional obligation to her mother, the Proctor was going above and beyond in her duties.

Truth of the matter was, she did want the money. Needed it, in fact. Her father had been fighting cancer since before her sixteenth birthday, and the treatment was expensive. Her mother had once said she'd only give her ex-husband money 'over her dead body', and she liked the idea of making that prophecy come true.

"Fine," she said. "If Riley can do it... so can I."

Proctor Monica's perpetual half frown twitched for an instant into what might have been a smile. At least a watered down version of one. "Very well. We can begin immediately, if you'd like?"

The girls looked at each other and shrugged. Why not?

***

The equipment was now set up in one of the many spare rooms of her mother's old house. A small white table occupied the centre of the room, shorter than regulation height. About the right height for kneeling in front of while straddling an elaborate vibrator. Sasha admired Proctor Monica's attention to detail.

An entire wall was covered with shelving laden with computer parts. She had no idea what any of them were, but some looked pretty expensive. Nice of the Proctor to foot the bill... though she supposed that the money came from her mother's estate, so she'd still be paying for it indirectly. Unless, of course, she couldn't beat the challenge.

Sasha still held the monitoring bracelet in her hand. Monica handed the other one to Riley and had the girls put them on, each one closing with a solid click.

"The monitor measures heart rate, galvanic skin response, blood pressure, and a number of other vital signs to gauge your arousal. They are connected to the vibrating seats and control the frequency and intensity of the experience."

Monica patted the soft rubber ridge on the seat in front of her. "The seats are also equipped with a pressure sensor that raises an alarm when you're not in contact with the..." she paused, eyes darting up and to the left in search of the right words, "...business end of the machine, for more than a minute."

Sasha nearly burst out laughing when she saw Riley's face. From the way her expression passed from disbelief... to anger... to acceptance in the span of fifteen seconds, it was clear she hadn't really understood the full scope of the challenge. And that she was still willing to do it, regardless. Fascinating.

"We don't need to take our clothes off or anything, right?" Sasha asked.

"Certainly not. But you may wish to remove some articles of clothing to prevent later discomfort from..." another pause and glance to the upper left "...wetness."

Sasha scrunched her nose, thinking about having to take the bus home while looking like she'd pissed her pants. She had always been blessed, or perhaps cursed, with an abundance of moisture when stimulated. With a sigh, she kicked off her shoes and peeled her yoga pants down to her ankles, then slid her feet out one at a time.

Her legs were toned to the point of being muscular. Years of gymnastics had blessed her with thighs that could crush a watermelon, but she became became self-conscious when she noticed Riley staring at her lower body. "Hey, rich girl. Eyes up here," Sasha pointed two fingers at Riley, then her face.

Riley flushed bright red. It would be charming if she weren't so generally irritating. "Sorry," she said, "I was just... surprised, that's all."

"I take it you are content to proceed as you are?" Monica asked.

Riley nodded, obviously not worried about staining her loose fitting grey track pants. "I can get a change of clothes. I live here."

Sasha smiled sweetly. "Not for long, you don't."

Riley's face darkened but she didn't reply.

"Very well," Proctor Monica continued, either oblivious or indifferent to the tension in the room, "you may begin. Riley, when you feel that Sasha is ready to attempt a build, please call me to witness."

Without pause for question or comment, Monica left the sisters alone in the room.

The silence built until Sasha couldn't handle it. "So, how should we start?"

Riley was staring at... no, through the vibrating machine with her name on it. "Have you ever used one of these before?"

Sasha thought about lying, to exaggerate the truth and embarrass her sister. But Riley looked genuinely scared, so she ended up telling the truth. "No... I've only seen them in movies."

Riley glanced up. "What kind movies is Dad letting you watch?"

"Dad hasn't been home much to chaperone me." Sasha deadpanned.

"...Oh." Riley seemed at a loss for words. "Sorry."

Sorry? That was the best she could offer? Aside from the fact that she only seen their dad a handful of times in the past decade, she hadn't seemed any more interested in re-kindling the relationship after he'd been diagnosed with cancer.

"Don't worry about it." Sasha replied icily.