Two Can Play

by K. M. Liss

  He wakes me with a shake. His wide white smile greets me as I open my eyes.

  “Sleeping again, beauty?”

  “It was just a catnap.”

  “Kelsey text me. Said she met you.”

  “Briefly.”

  “If you got more than hello, you're doing well.”

  “Wow, I must be honored.”

  “My sister is a complete bitch. I can say that because I'm her twin. She's number one, two, and three on her list, so don't expect to pal up with her, Kate.”

  “Oh don't worry, I'm not.”

  “She's also very anti dad and your mom.”

  “I thought she might be.”

  “She has wild fantasies about our mom and dad getting back together again, even though they've been separated for fifteen years.”

  “It's okay, Bren, no problem. Thanks for the heads up, I'll keep it cool.”

  “You do that, keep out of her hair, like I do.” His grin reappears, his mood lightening.

  I'm lazing on my bed in the afternoon, on my laptop, desperately trying to compose a poem and not doing very well. He knocks and calls out and I invite him in.

  “When you're ready, we ought to get going.”

  “Oh my God, I don't know. I'm getting really nervous about it.” I close my laptop and swing my legs off the bed.

  He pulls me up.

  “You're going, even if you have a teeny one on your ass, you'll get to see there's nothing to worry about at all, little Miss Beautiful.”

  He kisses my cheek and before I have a chance to object I'm in his arms and his mouth is all over my face.

  “Please stop kissing me.”

  “I'm not kissing you, just tasting your face.”

  I laugh out loud at his amusing remark.

  “Oh you are, are you?”

  “Mm mm. Babe, you taste like nothing else...I'm dying to lick some other parts.”

  “Well dream on, Casanova.”

  “I already dreamed it, the explicit version, where I get my tongue on you. Wanna know what happened? Guess how many times I made you come?”

  “Holy mother, Bren. Shut the fuck up.”

  He laughs, very sexily. “So sweet, and such an innocent at heart. I'd like to be the one who corrupts you though. I want to lick and suck it out of you.”

  My eyes couldn't be any wider as we stare at each other. My heart's pounding. “Yeah right,” I gasp, “innocent's my second name. Look, you'd better go while I mentally prepare for the torture session. Please excuse me for a minute. Or maybe five.” I usher him out the door in a state of shock.

  Holy fuck, what's got into him? He's really ramping up the heat.

  And I can't help it. Despite myself, I really like it. Is it just nice to receive such unbridled attention?

  I'm sitting in the tattooist chair. Bren's at my side being sweet, supportive, and non-sexually challenging. We've chosen a rose design and it's transferred on my skin ready for the real business to begin. I'm gritting my teeth as Jacie picks up the needle and starts the inking. The buzzing makes me feel sick. The first touch on my skin is an irritating tickle, then it picks up a pace to a dull throb. Not too bad, bearable. And if I don't look, I really can forget she's sticking a needle in me.

  “Hey, Kate. Okay, honey?” she asks.

  “Fine,” I reply with an attempt at a smile.

  “You're doing well, babe,” Bren says with a squeeze of my hand. I put my ear buds in and turn the volume of my iPod up to drown the buzzing out. Brendan plays a game on his iPhone as it all begins to flow on my arm.

  Just over one hour later I'm done and out. I'm euphoric. It's not only the most beautiful tattoo on the entire planet, in my opinion, but it didn't hurt a bit. I survived the ordeal and I'm unscathed mentally. Altogether, a real success.

  “Let me see it again,” Bren says as he drives me home. I flash it at him with a smile.

  “Pretty neat, awesome, dead sexy in fact. I might do things to that later.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what for instance?”

  “Rub it somewhere. Or lick it.” He pokes his tongue out, lick style.

  I widen my eyes at him. He's getting way too intimate with me. “Give me a break.”

  “Kate, honey, there's not much of you I don't want to lick or rub somewhere on me, but that'll get special attention.”

  “You're a real horn dog, aren't you?” I laugh.

  “I'm trying to wear you down somehow. I'm not quite at the point of begging you on my hands and knees for anything you wanna give just yet, but I will if I have to.”

  “You're joking, right?” I look at him with wide eyes.

  His face breaks into a broad grin. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “I'm not gonna believe a word you say.” I laugh.

  HIM

  I'm blasted. Sunk and drunk and a touch unsteady on my feet. It seems everyone is. I'm feeling good, happy even. Positive about whatever's to come. Mom's kinda cool, I'm financially sorted, and I'm ready for things to move on with Kate. I'm seriously chilled in my mood and propping up the bar when Hazel fuck-me Jones breezes in.

  Fuck. Me.

  I'd forgotten all about her affect on me.

  She's one of those girls. The kind men can't take their eyes and hands off.

  A real looker. Big eyes, pouty lips. Very well stacked.

  She's a glamor model and very dirty minded.

  I've a permanent attraction going on there.

  Not that we've ever dated.

  I don't do dating in New York. Ever.

  It's my home turf.

  I rely on the extremely casual to fill my needs for female company.

  Tonight might be a test of character.

  But as I'm half trashed. I don't think I can resist.

  The odds are stacked way against me.

  Maybe one last hook up. Before I give them up.

  If I can still manage to get it up, that is.

  She waltzes up to me and hugs my waist and kisses my ear, whispering into it sexily,

  “Mm mm, you're looking good, A. Where've you been? I've missed you.”

  “I've been in Italy, family stuff, and you're hot as ever, Haze.”

  “I'm more than hot right now. I wonder why?” she murmurs, trailing her lips around my neck, rubbing herself up against me, groping my ass really thoroughly down the back of my pants. “What you doing later?” She bats her eyelashes at me seductively.

  I'm well and truly up for later. Despite the alcohol, everything's sprung into action, locked and loaded. Fuck later. I'm up for banging her right now.

  “Going home to bed, and very soon,” I say with a smile, my aroused and blurry senses sucking up the very heavy perfume and the equally heavy makeup. She's all smoky eyes, glossy lipstick and silky fair hair; a soaking wet dream, a big boy's toy that I'm gonna switch on for some hot entertainment later. She definitely gets me humming and buzzing. In ways I shouldn't. I'm sure she brings out the worst in me. It's not something I'd admit to but I feel kinda used and dirty after she's had her hands on me. Not that that ever stops me. The good outweighs the dirty by a long shot. And I'm wondering how dirty I'll be tonight...and if she's got that little black, sex aid thingy with her that we have a lot of dirty fun with.

  I'm thinking kitchen counter again, under the bright spotlights where I can see everything close up in hair-free detail. I'm also wishing I'd not had so much to drink, just in case I fall asleep on the job.

  “Want some company, boy? Real up close and personal?” she purrs sweetly.

  “Hey, are you hitting on me again, girl?” I joke.

  “You know me, I'm direct. I know what I want, and I want you, I can hardly keep my hands off you. Or my mouth.” She lands a teasing lick-style kiss on my lips. “I'm meeting my friends for a while, over there, but come get me when you go. Don't you forget now.” She breathes heavily into my ear, nipping at my earlobe. Then she's off, slinking away on her impossibly long legs. Her high heels, see-through black chiffon top and miniskirt
combo, her usual knock 'em dead standard. I stare after her, lust flaring wildly inside. She's really something else.

  And such a mega slut.

  I don't know why I suddenly thought that. And I know I'm real slutty myself. Hazel and I've been together more than a few times, and her reputation has never bothered me much until now. In fact I've never thought much about any of my so-called girlfriends, in any way. What or who they are or what they feel has been irrelevant. It's all gone over my head in my usual bastard, uncaring need, to get whatever I want from them. The basic and physical to put it bluntly.

  I watch her flirting wildly with everything male across the club and something strange happens inside me. Something beyond my control. Instinctual.

  I put down my beer, half finished, say goodnight to the guys, and leave. Without her.

  A quick fuck, or even a long and extremely dirty session with Hazel, is not on my agenda.

  I'm rinsing myself clean, from this moment forth. Maybe I don't deserve it, but I want better quality. Someone who hasn't gone down on everyone in NYC.

  There's only one girl I want. And I'm not waiting another day.

  I ring Karen, getting her out of bed apparently, and after begging her as nicely as I can with my limited drunken vocabulary, she very grumpily and reluctantly agrees to book me a flight straight away, leaving for Vegas ASAP in the morning. I don't trust myself to do it. Not in my current state of inebriation. I could end up with a reservation to Moscow or Beijing.

  In the morning I'm gonna call her. We're going to work something out. For the first time in my life I'm feeling a commitment. I want to do it. Put some effort into it. Jack's happier than I've ever seen him, now he's got Lauren. I want a bit of that kind of happy myself.

  And I've got to admit, Kate's perfect, in every way.

  I'm gonna tell her all about me, my past, who I am, the money...the whole damn lot.

  And Marco...he can fuck off. Permanently.

  I grab a cab home and flop in the back with my head buzzing. Buzzing with excitement and swimming with booze. I get a text from Hazel. A very impolite one. Heavy on profanity.

  “Need sleep more than sex,” I reply, letting her down gently. Then I bar her number and delete her from my contacts. Plus my other casual female acquaintances.

  Goodbye Hazel Jones & Co, it was real nice knowing you all so very, very superficially.

  My head's swimming like crazy. The alcohol's biting hard. I'm fishing around for my key and I eventually find it and get it in the lock. I almost fall in the door and make it to the sofa and collapse on my back.

  My cell rings.

  It's the wonderful, marvellous Karen.

  “Hello sweetheart...you're the best PA...ever...,” I answer drunkenly.

  She snorts in disgust. “You sound really drunk, Aaron. Sort yourself out.”

  “Needed a drink, lots of drink...sorry 'bout this....”

  “You'll definitely be sorry in the morning.” She laughs, really evilly. “Right, Mister, you're on the 11:15 to Vegas tomorrow, one-way flight, texting you details, and sent you email. Can I go to bed again now?”

  “Sure, K, luv ya so, so much honey, thanks.” I can't help but laugh like an idiot. She sounds royally fucked off. I hope I didn't interrupt anything with her and John.

  Then I realize. Yeah...that's exactly what I've done.

  “Night then, Aaron, see you sometime. I'll reschedule your appointments for next week.” She ends the call abruptly.

  With a lot of difficulty, I finally manage to set my iPhone for a six-thirty alarm and drag myself off to bed. I get my shoes off before I fall back on it fully dressed, dragging the duvet over myself and drifting off.

  I'm wishing she were here with me right now. I want to curl up against her, hug her tight.

  In my semi-conscious state, I'm sure I can smell her perfume. I see her beautiful face and eyes in my mind––and feel those smooth pale legs wrapped around mine––small fingers touching me all over––I nuzzle her neck, so soft and warm––the sexiest, loveliest thing ever.

  And I love every part of her.

  I smile to myself happily in my drunken mood as I drift off.

  HER

  I've had the most wonderful evening. All of us together in a steak restaurant. I'm rather worse for wear as Harry drives us home. Bren's being all charming and polite. He's dropped the crude angle while we're in parental company. Kelsey's quiet and pleasant enough, but I suppose she would be with her dad around. Mom and Harry are entertaining us with their canoodling, holding hands, and pecking lips in the front seats. I'm pretty sure that's illegal when you're driving. They're looking very distracted by each other. Hopefully we won't crash.

  Everything's going just fine, I tell myself. I smile at Bren and he smiles back, hugging my shoulders and giving me a peck on the cheek.

  Kelsey gives him the evil eye and he hugs her shoulders as well. She shrugs him off roughly before he can peck her cheek. They don't seem to have a close twin-ship. When we arrive home, it's late. After a wobbly trip around the pool and a long look at the night sky on the deck with Bren, we make our unsteady way to our rooms.

  I strip off and dive in bed. A few minutes later there's a knock at my door. I'm guessing it's him again, sexy step-bro.

  “I'm in bed, asleep already,” I announce.

  “Got a nightcap.” He ignores my announcement and subtle hint to go away and enters my room, sitting on my bed. Turning the light on dimmer, he hands me a glass of red.

  I sit up a little tucking the duvet tightly under my arms regarding him warily. I sip some wine.

  I really don't need any more, but what the hell...

  “I know your game, bro,” I say in a slightly slurred voice, my head swimming pleasantly.

  “Gonna play?”

  “Do you ever give up?” I snigger, gulping some more wine down.

  “Uh-uh...not when someone like you is the prize.” He grins at me.

  God, he's so good looking. Damn hot. Orgasmic.

  I'm slipping, fast. I could just get it over with, I suppose. Have a good old sex fest. It's appealing in my drunken state of mind. And it's bound to happen some time or other, I convince myself.

  He must be reading that something's unraveling big time in my expression, because he takes my wine and puts it down and leans in toward me. I slip down in the bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin. I'm not wearing anything underneath, as usual. How very convenient for him. His face moves in slowly, his lips touching mine. He brushes them gently, rubs my nose with his and without another word he slips off his clothes and slides into bed with me.

  I'm excited but detached as he pulls me into his arms. I can't deny he's a really hot guy. Every part is pretty exceptional.

  But there's one thing he's not. Or rather, one person.

  He's not him. The one I really want. The one who makes me feel so special.

  The one who kisses me and sets my whole body on fire from my head to my toes.

  He slips his leg between mine, grinding his cock into my hip.

  His mouth touches mine, softly sweeping, then pressing harder and his tongue sinks deeply inside. My head swims with the feel and taste. His hands roam freely around my body, and I start to respond.

  But I'm not thinking of him. The inner me is somewhere else, doing this with someone else. Someone I want with every breath in my body.

  I can't do this. More to the point, I really don't want to.

  “Stop, Bren. Please, this isn't right,” I say, pushing him away.

  “It feels more than right to me,” he murmurs, pulling me back and kissing my neck with renewed frenzy.

  I push him away again.

  “No...it's too soon for this. I've still got real issues with my ex.”

  He raises his head and stares at me directly.

  “Real issues with your ex? Right...Okay then...,” he says slowly, in a tight voice. His breathing is heavy, and I can tell he's angry and restraining himself. “Then I'd better g
o, hadn't I? And let you work all that out, Kate. Don't take too fucking long. Christ!”

  “Yeah, you'd better do that. I really need to be on my own.”

  I watch as he pulls on his jeans. He turns and looks down at me silently, his mouth a taut line. Then he leaves, shutting the door with a bang. I've understandably upset him. My usual fabulous handling of a bad situation.

  I try to get comfortable and empty my confused and drunken mind. But Aaron's there. Every detail is in my head. Haunting me. My eyes brim over suddenly and my throat tightens. I don't want anyone else but him.

  And I'm going to try and get him back.

  I've come to a decision. Tomorrow I'm going to call him. I've been wasting time, trying not to rock the Aaron boat or upset myself any further, but as it stands. there's no boat left to rock and I'm sunk already, scuttled on the bottom of the ocean floor. I could cry another sea of inner tears and bottle it all inside, or swim up and grab a lifebelt. Find out if I've got a chance to un-drown myself from my already-sunk misery. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain, I reason. If I can just make him listen to me for five little minutes, I can explain everything, and honestly. Put my heart on the line a little more obviously.

  I know he mouthed off at me because he was hurt. The fact that I hurt him means he cares. And don't people say the most dreadful things when they're hurt and angry? It doesn't mean they really feel like that or mean any of it. After tossing and turning for an age, thinking what I might say, if I can get his attention, I finally drift off to sleep.

  I wake with a sickly, muzzy head. An excess of wine always does that to me. I've no idea of the time, but it feels late. I lean toward the bedside clock, my focus returning.

  Jesus...Ten o'clock?

  I reach out to pick up my cell to check my messages in bed, but can't find it. I'm sure I left it on my bedside table. I get up and look under my bed in case it's been knocked on the floor. It's not there. My head swims with the movements I'm making. I need a drink before anything else. I wrap myself in my robe and go to the kitchen. Brendan's sitting at the breakfast bar, eating, with his back to me. I can't face him. I think about turning around and going back to my room, but that's a cowardly thing to do. I'm trying not to be cowardly anymore. New day, new me.