His Filthy Game

by Cassandra Dee

  “Even now, you can still find the video on-line, and it’s embarrassed me, made me a laughingstock. But I’ve made my peace. I’ve come to the realization that the world has seen me naked, seen me going at it in the shower.”

  “But I want to tell you who did that to me. It was them,” she paused dramatically, pointing at our parents. “Gordon Jones, my stepdad, videotaped me, and my mom, Virginia Jones, set it all up.”

  And here, there were tears in her eyes.

  “My own mother betrayed me, she let my stepdad do whatever he wanted, supported his efforts to tape me in the nude, covered up for him when she should have been protecting me. My mother,” she said, her voice cracking.

  But Stacey took another deep breath and continued, steadying herself.

  “I want the world to know because they were going to get away with it. Virginia was going to buy her way out somehow. Only we’ve stopped them by taking this very public step. We want everyone to know, we want the public to know.”

  And now the hubbub became a roar. Not only were Virginia and Gordon disgusting, betraying their daughter, a young woman they were supposed to care for and protect, but that daughter was announcing it to the world.

  But Stacey wasn’t done yet.

  “And I want you to know that the men who helped me were my stepbrothers, Peyton and Pax Jones. And,” she said pausing dramatically, “we’re in a relationship.”

  The whispering was no longer whispering, we could hear every word.

  “How could they?” asked one woman. “How could they do that to their daughter?”

  “Why would they?” asked another voice. “Why would they throw their own child under the bus? How despicable,” it concluded with disgust.

  “And now she’s with her brothers? This is such a fucked-up family, straight out of a bad soap,” replied a third.

  And I nodded my head. I understood. This was like a bad movie, with the scheming, conniving mom, the perverted dad, the kids engaged in a threesome, and a sex tape to boot. But that was our life. And it was better to live it in the open, air out the closets, than stay closed and hidden, suffering in silence.

  And so we left in style. Peyton, Stacey and I swept out, our chins up, voices trailing us as we made our way to a waiting limo.

  “Sister, we did the right thing,” I reassured her.

  “Really?” she asked bitterly. “Why doesn’t it feel like it then?”

  And that was the thing. Life was never easy, it was complicated, unfair, and treacherous at times. But now that things were in the open, the bright rays of sunlight would begin the healing.

  “We’ll be okay,” soothed Peyton. “Trust me, everything’s going to be okay.”

  “I hope so,” said Stacey, looking out the window with tears in her eyes. “I hope so,” she said, lapsing into silence.

  And with that, the limo made its way into the dark streets of Manhattan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Stacey

  “I’m not sure, brothers,” I said slowly. “I’m just not sure.”

  “Not sure about what?” asked Pax calmly.

  We were in a dressing room at the Donkey. It’s my safe space now, my place to get away from the mess that was my life. As Enchantress Inga, I could let go, dance my heart out, let myself just be.

  I took a deep breath.

  “What’s happened,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “It’s too much.”

  “Of course it is,” said Peyton reasonably. “We just went through a trial and Gordon and your mom are in jail now.”

  I was silent thinking about it again. It had been a terrible experience. Gordon and my mom had been indicted on criminal charges for the illicit videotape, plus the federal government was investigating Virginia for potential financial crimes. They were in deep trouble, their problems wouldn’t be ending when they got out of jail.

  But somehow, I didn’t feel better. Although we’d done the right thing by turning in our parents, the harrowing experience still haunted me and I was dancing more and more often these days, letting the Donkey bring me to another plane, help me heal.

  “Brothers,” I said slowly. “I think I need some time off.”

  “Sure,” said Peyton reasonably. “We’ll head to Tahiti for a vacation, I’ll get my agent on it. Sand and sun will be good for us,” he said, Pax nodding his agreement.

  But it wasn’t just that.

  “No brothers,” I said slowly. “I think I need some time off from you.”

  At this, my steps were silent, their gazes searching, looking me over, studying me closely. I knew I looked perfectly healthy on the outside, my breasts plump and lovely, my snatch smooth and velvety, wearing nothing but my Enchantress Inga mask and high heels. But despite appearances, inside I hurt, and needed time to heal on my own.

  With a deep sigh, Peyton spoke first.

  “If that’s what you need, then we’ll give it to you,” he said slowly. “Do you want to go to Tahiti by yourself? Take some time off on your own?”

  And I smiled tremulously at him, appreciative.

  “I think I’d like that,” I said. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  And I gave them each a sweet kiss before stepping on stage for the night. With a whirl, I threw myself into the dance, letting loose of all inhibitions. I kicked a leg up onto the pole, holding my pussy open for men to see, bathing in the attention of the hoots, the hollers, the appreciative male stares. I then spun around and bent over, holding my ass cheeks open, letting men gaze at my pink bits, my channel steamy and warm, my brown pucker ready to be kissed.

  But I was no longer letting the men touch or kiss. Because despite my longing to be alone for a while, I knew I still belonged to Peyton and Pax.

  EPILOGUE

  Stacey

  It was hard coming back from Tahiti. The sun and sand had been amazing, letting me get away from the trial, the talk about my parents, the gossip about Pax and Peyton Jones dating their stepsister. It was easier to pretend that it didn’t exist, that I was alone on an idyllic island, anonymous.

  But life is never really like that. Even in far away Tahiti, my life found me. At the resort bar one day, the bartender looked at me funny and said, “Hey, aren’t you …?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

  Because I’d put on a nice sundress that day, blowing out my hair, even putting on a little make-up, and once more I looked like Stacey Light, the girl you saw on TV. So even halfway around the world, I’d been outed. It’s truly a global world these days.

  And it’d been tough coming back. My job was kaput, Walter had explained that I couldn’t continue as a sportscaster with the network.

  “I don’t get it,” I said slowly. “I know my stuff, I’m ready to be on camera again.”

  “That’s not it Stacey, and you know it,” he said reprovingly. “It’s that you outshine the stories now. Everyone knows about you, your dad, your mom, the video, the twins …” and here his voice trailed off. Because as Pax and Peyton’s sister and lover, the network didn’t want to touch me, they didn’t want to sully their family brand with our threesome.

  And I got it. Walter had always been kind to me, and I knew he didn’t want to see his best sportscaster go, but my notoriety dwarfed my career now.

  “Brothers,” I said sadly. “What am I going to do?”

  “Whatever you like,” answered Pax gently. “Take some time and figure it out.”

  And I shot him a grateful smile. Because since coming back, I’d moved in with them and they’d been understanding, supportive, everything you’d want in lovers.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

  Peyton frowned.

  “Are you not sure about us?” he’d asked slowly. I knew they wanted me to be whole again, and supported my efforts to heal. But I’d been six months in Tahiti and they were ready to pick up where we left off.

  “Well,” I said with a tremulous smile, “I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I’m sure ab
out us.”

  And they swept me off my feet, picking me up and twirling me around before laughing joyously together. Because I’ve achieved a peace of sorts. I’ve had no contact with our parents, we don’t visit them in jail or correspond, Gordon and Virginia can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. Every time I think of them my skin crawls, the betrayal still hot under my skin even though I’ve done my best to purge the ghosts, let out my rage.

  But at home, things are smooth. The good thing is that pro football doesn’t care what shenanigans you’re up to so long as you score touchdowns. So Peyton and Pax, despite weathering harsh criticism after the revelation, are still on the team … and just signed four-year contracts for thirty-six million dollars. Can you believe it?

  So financially we were more than fine. Sure, I didn’t have a job anymore, but I was looking into starting my own lifestyle blog, something that would feature personal posts with a sports twist, capitalizing on my know-how. I hear women make seven figure from these things with all the affiliate links, and it was something to try my hand at.

  Plus, the Donkey. Well, Enchantress Inga still dances sometimes, and let’s just say my brothers come to watch … and participate as well. Our relationship is deep, fulfilling, everything a girl could hope for and their male egos weren’t threatened by my dancing, they were proud that their woman had the assets, the self-confidence to go up and jiggle.

  That night, after another hot session, I smiled. My limbs were still entangled with theirs in the sheets, our skin hot and flushed, our breathing coming fast and hard.

  “Brothers,” I panted lightly, taking their hands. “That was incredible, I loved it.”

  And they smiled back, growling their pleasure, taking in my ample curves, the blonde hair spread on the pillow.

  “Stacey,” Pax growled. “We’ve been waiting, we have something for you.”

  And I figured I knew what it was. We’d been talking about going to Tahiti again, my chance to show them around. I’d been raving about it, the beach, the ocean, the tropical breeze, and my lovers were eager to see it as well.

  And sure enough, out came a bulky envelope, the kind with plane tickets inside.

  I toyed with it, examining the envelope closely, running my finger along the seam.

  “Oh, wonder what it could be,” I giggled. “Tickets to Tahiti anyone?”

  My brothers looked at me with hunger but also anticipation.

  “Open it,” growled Peyton.

  “Now,” added Pax. “Please sister.”

  “Okay, okay,” I laughed. “The season’s been tough on you guys, I know a vacation’s in order.”

  And sure enough, when I pulled open the file there were three first-class tickets to Tahiti.

  “Thank you, thank you,” I cooed, throwing my arms around my steps’ massive frames, covering them with kisses. “I’m going to start packing right away.”

  “Um, sister,” said Pax, “I think you’re missing something else in there.”

  “Really?” I asked. As far as I could tell, it was just a sheaf of bulky papers, probably offers for travel insurance and carry-on rules and regulations. “Are you sure?” I asked, riffling through the mass.

  But then my fingers slowed and stopped. Because besides the requisite junk mail there was an application … for a marriage license.

  I pulled the form out from the papers slowly, my fingers trembling. Could it be? Sure enough, there was my name and date of birth printed on the license, with Peyton listed as the prospective groom.

  “Brothers,” I said, my voice quivering. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Yes,” rasped Peyton. “We want you … forever.”

  I was elated, out of breath and beyond excited, but I wasn’t sure how our ménage could continue if only two of us were married. My eyes filled with tears and I could feel them begin to spill over, trailing down my cheeks hotly.

  “What, what is it?” growled Pax. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just that … what about you?” I asked tremulously. “The application only lists Peyton and me. What about you? I want you to be a part of this too, I’m in love with you both,” I confessed.

  And my steps descended on me, stroking me, petting me, growling words of comfort into my hair.

  “No worries, we’ve already talked this through,” replied Pax. “You obviously can’t get married to us both, but we want to keep you with us, bind you to us in the best way we know how.”

  “But how did you decide on Peyton?” I asked plaintively. “I don’t love one of you more than the other, I love you equally.”

  “It was simple,” said Peyton, “we flipped a coin. Heads me, tails Pax.”

  I gasped. Something this momentous had been decided by a coin toss? That was way too simple for something as complex as marriage.

  But my brothers only nodded.

  “It’s okay,” soothed Pax, “I’m used to it. We begin every football game with a coin toss, even the Super Bowl. It’s just how life is,” he concluded simply.

  I threw my arms around him.

  “But you’ll live with us, won’t you?” I breathed into Pax’s ear. “The three of us together?”

  “Oh yeah sweetie,” he growled, stroking my back. “I’m with you every day … and every night.”

  And with that, I kissed him deeply, willing him to feel the gratitude and excitement I had for our future life.

  He returned my kiss passionately before pulling back and pressing a pen into my hand.

  “Now sign that application,” he growled, “before I change my mind.”

  And I laughed joyously, excited about our future life.

  So here I am in Tahiti, about to step out onto the beach clad in a white slip dress, my feet bare, hair blowing in the wind except for a wreath of white flowers. It was the perfect opportunity – we’d go on vacation and have the ceremony here, before returning stateside and filing the certificate with the registrar.

  I was lost in a reverie of happiness when the wedding march began to play. With a delighted smile, I stepped onto the walkway, each step bringing me closer to my future.

  The twins waited for me at the edge of the water, their eyes watching me every step of the way, hungry, waiting, eager for the next phase of our lives.

  “And do you, Anastasia Light, take Peyton Jones as your true and wedded husband?”

  I took a deep breath, looking deep into Peyton’s eyes, clasping his hands in mine. But then I averted my eyes just a bit, looking directly behind him, deep into the baby blues of Pax and nodded yes, never breaking eye contact.

  “Yes, yes, I do,” I sighed, my eyes still locked with Pax, my hands joined with Peyton.

  And that’s how I married both my steps. And you know what? It couldn’t have turned out better because we weren’t going out with a bang. Rather, we were doing a double bang … for keeps.

  THE END

  A SNEAK PEEK

  SOLD AT THE AUCTION

  By Cassandra Dee

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ellie

  “Seriously El, you can’t wear that,” said my friend Rachel.

  I looked back at her, a little miffed.

  “Why not?” I asked plaintively. The jeans I had on were nice, a dark denim wash, and I’d paired them with a long-sleeve top, crushed velvet with a scoop-neck. “Looks okay to me.”

  Rachel snorted.

  “Seriously El, we’re in Vegas for the week. We’re going clubbing at a place that doesn’t even have a name, it’s so hot. You can’t wear the stuff you usually do, now take it off,” she commanded.

  I thought about refusing flat out, putting down my foot and digging in. But the thing is my friend is the one with the fashion sense, Rachel always looks amazing, knowing exactly how to do herself up for every occasion. In comparison, I was a little frumpy, dazed and confused most times, my brown hair unfashionably curly, my curves unfashionably round. So yes, I got invited to good parties because I was Rachel’s friend, but I didn’t lo
ok like any of them, skinny minnies all.

  And frankly, it was amazing that Rachel and I are friends at all because we’re so different, she’s swan-like, thin and elegant, with a modeling portfolio, whereas I’m round and small, an A-student. So our interests are poles apart, not to mention our paths in life. But we’ve known one another since we were five, and have seen one another through thick and thin again and again. Take last year, for example, when Rachel’s parents got divorced. I was her confidante, her therapist, and her anchor when she was lost at sea, adrift on waves of sadness. And I know she’d do the same for me if our situations were reversed. So despite the fact that outwardly, it looks like we have nothing in common, in fact we have a bond that goes deep, far further than mere clothes or personalities would suggest.

  And since my body changed, my friend’s fashion advice was even more important. Because gone was the old Ellie from two years ago, an underweight mouse shaped like a broomstick, and in her place was the body of a woman, like Venus de Milo incarnate. I have big boobs now, a huge ass that sways when I walk, and generous hips making it hard to fit any type of pants. In fact, it’d been a struggle getting into my jeans tonight, I’d had to hop up and down desperately a couple times before they squeezed on, and the button was threatening to pop off any second.

  So I sighed again.

  “I don’t have anything else,” I repeated plaintively, gesturing with open palms. “There’s nothing else, look at my suitcase, nothing, nada.” And flipping open the purple travel case to reveal the interior was uninspiring. There was nothing haute couture or racy, just a couple more colored tops and a pair of grey jeans to mix things up.

  Rachel pulled a face.

  “Really, you didn’t bring a dress? Something a little slinkier?” she asked, picking through the stuff in my bag.

  I shook my head.