Two Can Play

by K. M. Liss

  I have my friends and my hobbies to keep me busy. My writing. Songs, stories, poems. What I really need is some mega artiste or girl group to discover me and take me on as their lyricist and give a higher, creative meaning to my existence. But until then, I'll dream on, keep writing, and send my work to publishers. It's therapeutic, cathartic...and it keeps me sane and grounded.

  My cell bleeps again and we have a fun back and forth.

  Mom:So how’s Italy honeybunch

  Me: SO RAINY''''''''''

  Mom: Go get a man to play with then

  Me:Will do. On the way to pick one up from the man shop.

  Mom:LOL

  I hear her high-pitched, squeaky laugh in my head and smile.

  At least I have some kind of a regular relationship with my mom. Unlike my dad. He hardly ever contacts me. The last time I saw him was three years ago when I took the initiative and visited him. It was a very strained visit. He was so distant and cool. But I did get to meet my Russian grandfather, who was equally distant and cool. I get birthday cards and the odd call to say hello. But his English isn't all that great. More like none existent. It's difficult conversation. I know I should try harder, try to learn some Russian. I've got the time and the means to pay for someone to teach me privately. It's one of those things I've never got around to doing. I put it on my soon-to-do list, mentally. In six months I could give my dad a real surprise. Maybe he'd warm to me more, knowing I've made an effort to embrace my Russian heritage.

  I know it's my fault leaving my flight till the last minute, but I'm mightily fucked off. The plane landed an hour late and now I'm in a real rush.

  I run out of the door and overtake a girl running for the one cab available.

  Sorry, honey. Ain't got time for being a gentleman. That is SO mine.

  I'm getting soaked, but I'm there. I stake my claim and get in. Unfortunately so does she.

  Actually I don't mind when I take a proper look.

  She's a real stunner. Even soaked, she looks gorgeous. Very slim, but plenty to admire above the waistline. Just the way I like my women.

  I attempt some conversation, and she's testing me out. Katrina. Kinda playful and cute.

  Or more like so damn hot and sexy I could eat her. All of her. She's growing on me. Real fast.

  She might be a little bit interested. Or even a lot. But I'm real interested in her.

  I'm getting the impression she wants to lick my tattoos; her eyes are glued to them. That's a definite come-on in my mind.

  I want to see her again. So I give her my card. My personal one. I keep my professional and private life well separated. I never let my girlfriends know I own a recording and production studio and that I've got seven, almost eight figures in the bank. I don't trust anyone enough to let them inside my world. It's my world and I like it the way it is, with only me in it.

  Unencumbered by unprincipled or highly expensive females.

  I don't want to be used, hurt or manipulated in any way. So I keep things very casual.

  It's highly convenient we're dropping her first. So I get to see where she's staying.

  She gives me a cute wave from the doorstep and I have the sudden urge to ask her out.

  I don't believe it! No one turns down the great privilege of dinner with me. Ever.

  Now I'm really interested. I like a challenge. It makes a nice change.

  I suppose a girl like her must get hit on all the time. Just in case I slip from her must-do list, I'll make sure I remind her tomorrow.

  Mm mm, sexy little Kate, she's hot on my must-do list.

  ~ * ~

  I run up the stairs to the lawyer's office, where Signor Bassi is to read the will. The family is lying in wait for me, like a shoal of female piranhas ready to strip the bones bare.

  “Aaron, for God's sake, where've you been? You should have been here a good ten minutes ago,” my sister, Lola, snaps at me.

  “Plane was late,” I explain.

  “Why couldn't you have arrived yesterday?” she snaps again.

  “I had a prior engagement.”

  “You could at least have worn something decent for the reading. Look at the state of you!” my eldest sister Isobel says with a glare, eying my much-loved 'Money Over Bitches' T-shirt with disgust.

  “You're such a snob, Issy...and as I already said, I didn't have time. I was late! What does it matter what I'm wearing anyway? It's not a public affair.”

  Issy tuts loudly and looks down her nose at me.

  Paula gives me a half smile and rolls her eyes. I think she's sympathizing. Not entirely sure though.

  “Aaron, you're always so full of excuses. Let's get started, shall we?” the chief piranha, my mother, says, baring her teeth in her usual unfriendly style.

  An hour later I walk out of the office, unsteady on my legs, pleased as a drunk punch. I'm the sole heir to my father's real estate business: worth thirty million Euro. This is beyond my wildest dreams, and way more than I ever thought his business was worth. The rest of the family get to share his personal fortune consisting of his private house, managed funds, bullion, stocks and shares, and cash in the bank: a further ten million.

  I won't be contesting anything, that's for sure, but my mother and three sisters might, as I seem to have been awarded the lion's share.

  Full of the rich joys of life, I take a cab over to Abbey’s.

  She's my Venice “girlfriend” and from the UK, a graduate in tourism, and working in the tourist office. I met her in departures at the airport. I've been seeing her for the last few months when the mood takes me.

  In my usual casual manner, she sees me when she sees me, and I don't maintain much, if any, contact in between.

  I knock, and she lets me inside with a squeal of delight. “Baby...you're back. Why didn't you let me know?”

  “I wanted to surprise you.” Actually I forgot all about her until after the lawyer’s meeting, but wanting to surprise her sounds a lot better than that.

  She covers my face in kisses, squeezes me close, and gropes my ass.

  Mmm, this is the kind of welcome I like!

  “Aaron baby, you feel so damn good. I've missed you,” she murmurs, nibbling my neck.

  “So do you, honey. Take me to bed and we can feel a lot more.”

  “I so wish I could do that but I can't. I'm leaving for work right now and I can't get out of it. I've just offered to cover for someone who's called in sick. But Ree's arriving soon. You can keep each other company 'till I get back, can't you?”

  Regan's her sister.

  She's twenty-two years old, cabin crew for a German airline, and, I think, obsessed with me.

  This news is unsettling. I shouldn't be alone with her, really.

  Not after the last time she was staying at Abbey's, when she pounced on me, and I gave in to her considerable female charms.

  “Maybe I'll go home, see you tomorrow sometime?” I say.

  “No, you won't! You're staying right here. I don't want you disappearing again. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm working a three-hour shift, that's all.”

  “Okay, we'll do something special together afterward, shall we?”

  “Mm mm, special things are going through my mind.”

  After a long and sexy goodbye at the door, which works me up to fever pitch, Abbey reluctantly leaves me.

  I'm hungry and thirsty and I prowl around the kitchen looking for a snack and a drink.

  Dammit, talk about completely bare cupboards...there's nothing here.

  Abbey likes to eat out a lot. She can't cook for shit. But there's usually some junk food to graze on. All I can find are two bottles of wine in the fridge and some crushed Cornflakes hiding in the bottom of the box. No milk though. I'm too lazy to go out buying stuff, and besides, I've got plans to go and eat later. I tip the dusty dregs of the Cornflakes in a bowl and eat them dry with a spoon, which shuts my growling stomach up at least. Not quite my usual standard. I'd like to have celebrated my new mega wealth with a
more stylish snack. After making myself some black coffee to wash it down, I take up residence lazing on the sofa.

  I pick up Abbey's OK! magazine and flip through. I'm not really interested in this kinda crap. A minute later I hear a rattling noise at the door and Regan lets herself in with her key.

  “Oh, Aaron, hello...what a surprise. How's things?” she purrs in her usual kitten-y tone of voice, spotting me sitting on the sofa, and treating me to an enthusiastic smile.

  “Not so bad. How about you?” I reply coolly. I'm not going to encourage her by being too friendly.

  “Not so bad, either.”

  “I hope you're not hungry because I just polished off the Cornflakes,” I inform her.

  “No, I'm good. I had dinner at the airport with Jane. I know what Abbey's like. There's never anything to eat in this place,” she says with a dark and smoldering look, her eyes running all over me.

  I look at her warily. She may not be hungry for food, but I think she just got her knife and fork out.

  I watch her take off her cabin crew jacket and hang it over the back of the chair.

  She stares at me, unblinking, across the dining table, then disappears into her room.

  I breathe a sigh of relief that she's gone.

  Hopefully that session we had before was a one-off. An alcoholically charged indiscretion.

  I know I should leave, avoid temptation on both our parts, and go back to my place. But I want to be around when Abbey gets back. I'm taking her out for a late dinner date somewhere expensive and classy.

  Actually I've just realized something. I really do need to go home and get changed into something smarter than this. I've got no suitable clothes with me. I don't think scuffed jeans and a street-cred T will go down too well at Cesare's. It's a touch posh and exclusive. I'll wait for Regan to come back and I'll let her know I'm off.

  I pick up the remote and I'm about to turn on the TV to keep me company while I'm waiting, when she reappears.

  As she walks toward me, kicking off her high heels, running her hands though her short dark hair and licking her newly applied red lipstick, I'm battling with myself, and losing fast.

  I know I'm a chick magnet, and a natural bastard. I blame my father for giving me the magnet genes. I'm so like him. Looks, voice, personality.

  I blame my mother for being a natural bitch and making me what I am. She never treated me the same way as she treated my sisters. They were always put first. Given more attention and spoken to warmly, with a smile that reached her eyes. The fact Dad left her for a year just before I was born wasn't my fault. Nor was the fact he had other affairs after that. But she acted like it was. All of my life.

  She never liked me. I'm very obviously a thorn in her side, and a child too many. I was a wedge that had come between them. She hadn't a clue what to do with a boy after having three girls. So she abandoned me emotionally.

  I was desperate for her love and attention and played up a helluva lot to get it. That just made her hate me more. I used to cry myself to sleep as a boy. No other woman is going to hurt me like that. So I don't get close to any. As soon as I see that look in their eyes, I'm outta there.

  Love? Who needs it? Not me for sure. I've lived without it all my life.

  She unzips her bright blue skirt and it slithers to the ground.

  I watch mesmerized, my erection hitting its peak as she unbuttons her blouse and slips it off.

  Her underwear disappears magically fast.

  Despite the fact she's naked and highly fuckable, Regan's so not my type.

  She's far too serious—cold and calculating—nothing like Abbey at all, but she's got such a lovely body and her tits hit my double D button. A really big handful. I can't resist them, and she knows it.

  “Oh shit...,” I groan as my hands slip around her waist and I pull her toward me. She sits astride me, on my lap, and I take the objects of my rampant desires in my hands. The soft feel and weight of them drives me wild. I rub my thumbs over their hardened tips. I want one in my mouth.

  “Aaron, I've thought about nothing else for weeks. I want you so bad,” she murmurs, breathing heavily into my ear.

  “Jesus, Ree, you're such a little bitch. What about Abbey? She's your fucking sister,” I protest in a futile voice.

  “What about her, Aaron? You know you want me just as bad, so don't spoil this.” She lifts her head and licks her ruby lips.

  I'm swamped with lust as she undoes my fly and her hand moves inside my pants, pulling my cock out roughly.

  She rolls a condom on me expertly, raises herself above me, and I'm helpless to stop it.

  Hell, I don't want to stop it.

  In seconds she sinks down on me and I'm inside her warm, tight little body. She nips at my lip with her teeth and her hands tug at my T-shirt, pulling it up and off. Her hands are all over me, her mouth at my neck, sucking at my skin hard.

  I turn and push her down on the sofa and kiss her fiercely, driven purely by a basic animal need. I drive inside her furiously hard and she whimpers against my mouth with pleasure, over and over.

  There's no affection in this act. Not an ounce.

  Fucking is all it is.

  I can't deny I'm enjoying it, though. A helluva lot.

  It's damn hot in a real bad way.

  But I hate myself right now.

  I'm a disgrace for letting her do this again.

  We're in the power shower together, a half an hour later, washing away the sin and sex and getting more sinful in the process, when there's a loud knock at the door.

  “I know you're both in there. Come out right now!” Abbey shouts in an angry voice.

  I look at Regan's shocked face with a horrified expression.

  She can't be home already? She's only been gone an hour.

  Oh shit, I'm so dead. She's obviously come home early to be with me...

  I'm feeling like a pile of crap right now. This is looking pretty bad, for the both of us.

  But at least I don't have to see Abbey again. Whereas, Regan's her sister. Really awkward for them.

  Perhaps Regan should have thought about this possible scenario before screwing me twice in her sister's apartment.

  She turns off the shower and gets out, silently, wrapping herself with a towel and throwing one at me. It's a little on the small side, but it covers me up, just about. I have to make do as there aren't any others.

  We open the door sheepishly and come out to face the well-deserved wrath of Abbey.

  “Sorry, it kind of...just happened,” I say lamely. I never thought I could feel so bad as I look at her devastated face.

  “Has it just happened before?” Her teary, hurt eyes narrow.

  “No, just this once.” I offer my lie, trying to limit the damage.

  She slaps my face.

  A stinging hard slap.

  Her sister's cheek gets the same treatment.

  “You're both disgusting, the pair of you... I hate you and I never want to see either of you again, ever, ever,” she screeches, red-faced, tearful and furious, her chest heaving with emotion.

  She picks up our clothes from the floor of the apartment and rushes to the window and throws them outside into the rainy street below.

  Regan begins to cry, huge wracking sobs.

  Either she's an Oscar winning actress or she really is sorry.

  I look for signs of real emotion but can't see any.

  I'm going for the actress.

  “Abbey, I'm so sorry...I couldn't help it...I don't know what came over me. I'll never, ever do anything like this again, I promise...,” Regan tries to appeal through her sobs.

  “Ree, you're such a slut. Why couldn't you find your own man instead of stealing mine?”

  “I didn't steal him...it was all Aaron's fault. He hit on me so much. I caved in....” She gives me a desperate look.

  I did WHAT?

  I'm incensed. But then I realize, I may not have initiated it, but it was half my fault. More than half my fault. I
should have stopped her. Said that little and so important word “no” to her, before she stripped off her clothes and I became incapable of it.

  Hell, I may as well take the rap, I'm burnt to a cinder here anyway...might as well go nuclear fallout while I'm at it.

  “Yeah, well. Never could keep it my pants when there's pretty women like you two about, sisters are kind of a fantasy of mine... You don't want a threesome, do you?” I drop my nuclear bomb with a forced, lecherous grin.

  I'm doing this for Abbey, not Regan.

  I hope they'll be able to sort it out when I'm gone.

  “What? I'm not hearing this, please say I'm not? You're the absolute pits, Aaron Garcia. You know that? You bastard! For God's sake!” Abbey spits out with venom.

  I sigh in resignation. Never a truer word has been spoken.

  “’Bye then, Abbey. It's been real nice knowing you,” I reply sadly.

  “Get the fuck out of my apartment, you animal. What I ever saw in you, I really don't know,” she adds nastily.

  I don't like things ending this way with her; she was sweet and fun to be with. I liked her. I force myself out of her life, grabbing my carry-on and trainers from beside the door, and walking out with the small pink towel wrapped around my hips.

  I collect my soaked clothes from the street and put them on in a secluded spot behind the building. I feel disgusting in mind and body. I get out my cell and call for a cab.

  No celebratory dinner for me tonight. I'm definitely not in the mood anymore.

  Not that I have anyone to go to dinner with, do I?

  I'll go home and get fucked-up drunk on my own.

  I've got a bottle of fizz chilling and that's all I need for company.

  I stand waiting under cover for the cab to turn up.

  There's no sign of Regan emerging in any case. That's got to be a good thing.

  Hopefully Abbey will calm down and forgive her. Not that she deserves it, in truth, but whatever. She might have learned a lesson from this. I know I have. I don't like feeling like a real shit.