DOUBLE DONKEY: A Twin Stepbrother Sports Romance (with BONUS book Twin Stepbrother Celebrity)

by Cassandra Dee

  Colt frowned, his handsome face stormy.

  “Sure, but it’s routine. I squeeze ‘em and stuff, but it’s not like I get out the gage and check each one’s pressure individually. Why? Was I supposed to?”

  “I don’t know,” said the Commish slowly. “We have reports that the balls were underinflated, making it easier for you to grip … and for your brother to catch.”

  Oh fuck. What the fuck. This was serious shit, not some slap on the wrist for going to strip clubs and banging hot chicks. This was the real deal, cheating … before our career even started.

  “Listen,” I growled, feeling my muscles tense, my jaw clench. “We’ve never skirted the rules, it’s all fucking lies. Where the fuck is this coming from anyways? Did another team complain, sore losers?”

  “Well, no,” said the Commish. “Jimmy Long stepped forward himself, saying that you paid him to deflate each ball.”

  “That’s a fucking lie!” I roared, standing up, pounding the table with a huge fist. “What the fuck, we barely talk to that guy, and we definitely don’t give him money.”

  “Calm down son,” said the other man, “no need to leap to conclusions. All Jimmy said was that you and your brother routinely passed him cash with the understanding that he’d deflate balls before each game, making it easier for the Eagles to win. We haven’t verified his statement,” he said, holding his hands up. “We merely wanted to notify you of the claims, let you prepare a defense.”

  Prepare a defense? WTF? This was more serious than I thought.

  “Do we need to get lawyers?” I asked slowly. “Because this is starting to sound like a lawsuit.”

  “I can’t tell you what you should and shouldn’t do,” said the Commissioner smoothly, the other man nodding in agreement silently. “But there will be an official investigation and from here on out, the McKesson twins are suspended. No game time, no meetings, no practice. You’re effectively benched until this is cleared up.”

  And Colt and I sat back, thunderstruck. This was fucking bullshit. We needed to get to the bottom of this clusterfuck pronto.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Karlie

  “What?” I gasped, my hands flying to my cheeks. “You’re suspended? Why?”

  “Some bullshit,” Colt growled, his mood dark, his face furious. “It’s fucking lies.”

  “But how? Why?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion. This was all a huge mix-up.

  “They said Jimmy Long, that fuckhead equipment assistant, deflated balls before game time,” snorted Cain. “What a loser.”

  “But how would that even help?” asked Karlie. “I don’t get it.”

  “Honey,” said Colt patiently. “Have you ever touched a football? You know those things are big, they’re hard to grip even if you have hands like ours,” he said, flexing his fingers, the digits articulate yet powerful. I grew red, just thinking about where those fingers had been on my body, but this clearly wasn’t the time.

  Colt continued. “Deflating balls even by a little makes them easier to catch and throw. Jimmy’s saying we paid him to do it.”

  I shook my head. “But who is this Jimmy Long guy? Why would he do this?”

  “Who knows?” ground out Cain. “Probably some idiot fuckwad who’s jealous of what we have.”

  I was silent for a moment, shaking my head confusedly. The name sounded familiar, something rang a bell although I wasn’t sure what. My mind whirred before seizing on a vague impression. Oh yeah. A scrawny dude, some little guy who was always running around with a load of towels, shin guards, breast plates, that kind of thing.

  “I think I’ve seen him around,” I said slowly. “In fact, I think he asked me out my first week at XM.”

  That caught my brothers’ attention.

  “Really?” they asked, their gazes sharpening. “Did you go?”

  I sat back, perplexed. How to explain this? But I related the story as best as I could remember.

  “I was at Dairy Queen,” I said slowly, “grabbing a burger, and Jimmy came up to me when I was at the counter, offering to pay. He was cocky, not to mention rude and insistent. I said no of course, I didn’t know him from Adam. But he persisted, literally shoving his money into the cashier’s hand.”

  “It was weird,” I continued. “But because he paid, I felt like I had to invite him to eat together, so he sat down and we chatted. It was okay,” I shrugged. “It wasn’t terrible that time or any other time.”

  “Any other time?” interrupted Colt, his eyebrows raised. “You saw him again?”

  “Well sort of, yes,” I confessed. “I mean, he was always popping up unexpectedly. Like he knew where I was going to be and when I got there, he’d be waiting.”

  “How the fuck would he know that?” ground out Colt. “How the fuck would he know where you were?”

  “I guess from yearbook,” I said, thinking back on events. “I mean, he’s on the staff too, so it’s pretty easy to figure out where I’ll be shooting next. There’s a schedule on the wall, I go to all sorts of activities as staff photographer – French club, debate, you name it,” I said slowly.

  “Anyways, it got creepy with him around all the time, so I started ignoring him, trying not to meet his eyes,” I continued. “And he got the message, so I quit worrying. Jimmy stopped showing up unexpectedly and I figured the problem was solved, game over.”

  “But clearly he held a grudge,” ground out Cain. “You rejected the dude and now he’s out for revenge.”

  I laughed a little.

  “I wouldn’t say revenge, brother, that seems a little extreme.”

  But Colt and Cain just shook their heads.

  “Never underestimate a man’s bruised ego, girlie,” they said. “I mean, the dude’s what – five four? Short men always have Napoleonic complexes, and he gets turned down by the new girl at school, even though he’s first in line. So yeah, I’d say some revenge is in order.”

  “But I don’t get it,” I said, still puzzled. “I mean, wrecking your athletic careers over this? How does he even know we’re together?”

  A moment’s pause.

  “From the Donkey,” said Cain simply. “He was there the night we did the blue light.”

  The blood rushed from my face and my knees felt weak. I still remembered that night, it’d been one of the best in my life. But how had Jimmy recognized me? I’d had a mask on, only my ruby red lips visible.

  Colt’s face was grim, reading my mind.

  “He must have paid someone,” he ground out. “Long must have paid someone at the club to find out which girl did the blue light that night. Have you made enemies at the Donkey?”

  Sort of. Us working girls generally got along but there was always some cattiness, some sniping between women who are afraid of growing old, their bodies sagging, their livelihood gone.

  I shrugged helplessly.

  “I haven’t made any enemies as far as I know, but it doesn’t matter,” I said sadly. “It would take so much energy to figure out which girl slipped Jimmy the info and for what? We wouldn’t go after her anyways. But this still isn’t making sense,” I said slowly. “How did you pay him? Did the commissioner tell you that at least?”

  “Through you,” said Colt simply. “We allegedly passed money to him through you.”

  I sputtered and gasped.

  “What? How?” I was genuinely shocked now. I’d never given Jimmy any money, maybe lent him a dollar for a Coke or something, but that was all.

  “That’s the thing, sister,” said Cain slowly. “He said that he took a cut of your tips from the Donkey Club. That we made it rain, and he took some of the money for himself. That’s how he was compensated.”

  I sat back, astounded.

  “Does the NCAA know about this?” I asked slowly.

  And my brothers nodded.

  “Yeah, they know about the Donkey ... that you dance, that you strip, and that you get money for it,” said Cain slowly. “We don’t know how much they know exactly, bu
t I think it’s pretty clear where this is headed.”

  And I fell into a faint, the black closing around me. My innermost secret was in danger of being revealed to the world … that I’d been sleeping with my brothers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Karlie

  My mind whirred as I stood in line at the lunch counter, woodenly picking up some food.

  “Black bean soup, honey?” asked the lunch lady, smiling kindly.

  I smiled back like a robot, nodding my head.

  That’s how it’s been for the last week. I’m on auto-pilot, acting like everything’s okay when inside I’m a mess, my emotions turbulent, liable at any second to burst into tears or melt into a sobbing puddle.

  I can’t help it. The NCAA investigation is going on this very second, and there’s nothing to do but wait. But it’s killing me inside, taking all my energy just to keep it together, not to let this completely take over my life.

  I scooted down the line with my lunch tray, absentmindedly reaching for a Diet Coke before pulling out my wallet to pay.

  And suddenly my eyes snapped to life. Because who was at the cash register but Jimmy Long, leering at me like nothing had happened.

  “Hey Karlie,” he said, his breath smelly and stinky even from two feet away. His face was so shiny that the oil was almost visible, his collar stained with sweat.

  “Hey,” I mumbled back, looking down, my face flushed. I was embarrassed and angry at once. Here was the source of our pain, the so-called whistleblower on our own personal Deflategate. How much I wished I could rewind time so that I’d never met this guy.

  But suddenly a wave of rage overtook me. Who was this person to dictate my life? Why was he able to cause me immense pain, and threaten my brothers too? The unfairness made me choke, the anger swelling inside, making me see red, the clanging of bells loud in my ears like an internal siren going off.

  But I struggled to keep my emotions in check, showing nothing to the world.

  “Hey Jimmy,” I said, my voice deceptively mild. “How’s it going?”

  “Oh you know,” he said, ringing my food up. “It goes. I guess it’s going for you and your brothers too, isn’t it?” he said smarmily. I wanted to punch his face, knock out some of those brown, tobacco-stained teeth.

  But I forced myself to focus, not let my emotions get in the way.

  “Oh sure,” I said lightly, “Life goes on, you know. By the way, I was wondering when you’d be coming by the Donkey next?”

  Now it was his turn to grow beet red, the color mottling his skin. I bet he hadn’t expected me to tackle the issue head on, much less say the word “Donkey” out loud. But he recovered quickly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, scoffing. “Never heard of the place.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said sweetly, giving him a coy glance. “Joy says hi by the way.”

  If possible, the dickhead turned even brighter red, purple almost, the top of his head practically popping off with excitement and embarrassment. Because yeah, I’d asked around if anyone had seen Jimmy Long that night, who’d been talking to him. And what do you know, the girls remembered a lech coming backstage that night acting like he owned the joint.

  “Girl, why you wanna know about a guy like that?” asked Ebony, a seasoned dancer in her forties. “He’s got no money.”

  I shook my head. Trust Ebony to stick to the basics. No money, no dance.

  “Because he owes me cash,” I said slowly. “I think he took a cut of my tips.”

  Now this was serious business. We were there to get paid and had a right to know if our earnings had been tapped.

  “How? Why?” asked Snooker, a cute little blonde, bouncy and twenty-one at most.

  “It’s the night I did the blue light,” I said. “The football team sent a guy backstage afterwards with a wad of cash. My earnings,” I clarified. “But their delivery boy took some of that for himself, so I’m trying to figure out who saw him, how he pulled it off,” I said.

  “Man, that’s low,” whistled Ebony. “You tell us when you figure it out, kay girlie? We don’t need no cheaters like that.” She walked off, her ass wiggling with the feathers attached to her panties.

  But Snooker wasn’t so quick to go. She obviously had some info.

  “I think I remember that guy,” she said slowly. “Was he really ugly, with bad skin, bad hair, a midget about yea tall?” she asked, gesturing with her hand.

  I nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, that sounds like Jimmy,” I confirmed.

  “Well,” continued Snooker, “after you danced that night you were kind of passed out afterwards, remember?” she said. “You were lying on the lounger over there, resting, and this dude came in. He had money for you, but he was acting like he was boss around here, like we had to do whatever he wanted.”

  Us girls hate that. Sometimes patrons come backstage and act like the Prince of Persia, we’re their concubines cum personal servants, there to do their bidding. The entitlement emanates in waves off these guys and worst of all, they usually don’t have any money.

  But Snooker continued.

  “He came backstage and he was trying to feel up girls with both hands, practically dropping the money, his boner out and waving,” she said slowly.

  Oh god, gross. The worst type of client.

  “Yeah, so Joy took one for the team,” said Snooker. “She grabbed the money out of his hand, knelt down, and then gave him head.”

  I gasped. Sex backstage was commonplace but had Joy done it just to drive him away?

  Snooker nodded.

  “Yeah, she really did it,” she confirmed. “She took that dong in her mouth, it was practically crusty, he was so dirty, and got him off just so that he’d leave.”

  I was shocked, shaking my head, but suddenly knew how to get this ball rolling.

  “Tell Joy thanks,” I said tightly. “I owe her one.”

  “I will,” said Snooker as she walked off, her look sympathetic. “She’ll be on later this week, you can tell her yourself if you see her.”

  I nodded, turning to adjust my costume, getting ready to go on-stage. And as the music started, I began dancing like a she-devil, using my elasticity to do splits, aerobics, flinging around titty and ass like no other. But my mind was far away because I was forming a plan, how to make things right after this horrible blow to the twins’ athletic careers.

  And now Jimmy Long was right in front of me in the lunch line, dressed in a paper apron, a yellow visor on his head as he rang up my soup.

  I smiled sweetly at him.

  “Joy says hi, by the way,” I repeated, my voice coated in sugar. I could tell he knew who Joy was. Even when strippers use fake stage names, a client knows. They always know.

  Jimmy stuttered, grew red, and began sweating under the fluorescent lights, aggravating his acne problem.

  “Come back and see her,” I purred. “She’s on Thursday night at midnight for a blue light. You’ll like it,” I added coyly. “Maybe you’ll get picked as the special guy!” I tossed off lightly over my shoulder as I grabbed my tray, turning away.

  And with satisfaction, I saw Jimmy standing with his mouth open, gaping after me, his narrow shoulders trembling with anticipation, his breathing fast. It’d worked, I thrown the hook and the fish had bit. We’d see him this week … for sure.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Karlie

  “Oh yeah!” squealed Joy. “This is going to be awesome.”

  That’s what I love about Joy. I’d figured I’d have to persuade her somehow, cajole the girl into helping me, but instead she was totally game, her big boobies bouncing, a tiny yellow thong her only clothing.

  “You sure?” I asked carefully. “Jimmy’s gross, this isn’t going to be easy to swallow.”

  “No prob,” said Joy waving her hand. “Trust me, I’ve already swallowed the dude, what could be worse? Besides, anyone who fucks with the Donkey deserves to be destroyed,” she added, drawing a threateni
ng line across her throat.

  I had to laugh. It looked so out of place, her boobies hanging out, her cunt practically visible, teetering in high heels yet gesturing like an assassin.

  But hey, no one likes to be cheated and we girls stick together. So here we were, getting ready for a blue light, the clock ticking towards midnight. Joy was ready, I was ready, two women nude … and totally lethal.

  “Ohh, I think I see him,” breathed Joy, peeking out from behind the velvet curtain. “Oh yeah, he’s acting like the Queen of Sheba again.”

  I shook my head, disgusted. Trust Jimmy Long, cafeteria cashier cum wannabe blackmailer, to act like a hotshot. God, some people have such inflated ideas of themselves.

  But we were here to work, and Joy and I were prepared.

  “So you want me to walk out first, right?” she asked, rubbing oil over her body, the glimmering lotion making her slick and slippery.

  “Yeah, make sure he sees you and follows you to the back,” I confirmed, parting my cunny lips a little and holding myself open to push in a pocket rocket. Oh god, that felt good and I closed my eyes slightly and moaned a bit as I focused on the insertion, feeling the little motor in my twat, stimulating my clit as it worked my channel. I needed to act sexy around Jimmy and this would make the job easier, I was seriously revolted at the thought of seducing him.

  But a job is a job.

  “Ooh, looks delicious,” breathed Joy, watching me with avid eyes as I positioned the toy in myself. “No worries, I can do it without props, I just gotta be out in time for my special,” she said saucily. “Tonight, it’s gonna rain on me!” she giggled gleefully.

  I knew she was excited for the blue light, it speaks to the dancer inside, plus the money is just so good. But I wanted her to be careful because we had a mission.

  “Come on,” I whispered, taking her hand. Jimmy had seated himself in the back, his scrawny arms spread along the back of the booth like he was Al Pacino in Scarface. “Let’s go.”

  And Joy and I were on it. Strutting like peacocks, we entered the male crowd as another dancer was on stage, working the patrons with an air of practiced ease, shaking our asses, letting them stroke boobies, maybe touch a little cunt as we chatted them up, licking their cheeks, making cooing noises.