Stinger (The Mandarin Connection Book 7)

by Stephanie Brother

  “Bea here can wait for the boys, can’t you, sweetheart?” he asks.

  I like Frank.

  He knows Mom tends to be a bit sensitive to dehydration and sugar in the heat, and he also is a pretty decent fellow all-around.

  He really cares for Mom, and clucks and prattles around her like a mother hen.

  You can tell from the way they look at each other that they are not only comfortable, but content.

  I wish I could find that kind of relationship, one day.

  It’s the way I’d love to be with my stepbrothers.

  Comfortable.

  Safe.

  At home…

  Frank and Mom walk off towards the concession stand, hand in hand like a couple of teenagers on a date.

  “Oh, you are such a fussbudget, you old fool!” I hear Mom say to Frank.

  He just laughs and gives her hand a squeeze, and then whispers something I can’t hear.

  She looks alarmed, and checks to see if anyone else heard Frank.

  Then, she swats him, good-naturedly, and laughs as they round the corner.

  I shake my head at the wonders of ancient sexing, and I hear another commotion from the direction of the playing field,

  The Wasps are coming back out into the crowd, and as they emerge, I spy the twins.

  They look like gods, all buff and changed into their sweats, clutching their gear bags, and ready to head home.

  God, I want them so badly!

  My knees are quivering, and I feel myself getting aroused.

  My nipples press hard against my blouse, even though it’s pretty warm out there.

  Keith-David sees me and smiles, waving as three cheerleaders squirm and press themselves against him.

  They ooh and aah, and rub their titties against him, and my green monster comes out again.

  One cheerleader in particular catches my eye.

  It’s this redheaded gal I’ve noticed hanging around Keith-David for some time now.

  He doesn’t seem to mind all the attention, either, which makes me a bit angry as well.

  I try to calm down, when the redhead sticks her face up towards Stinger’s.

  “Stinger, how about a kiss for luck?” she asks, all innocence and sugar.

  I can feel my blood pressure rising…

  I think her name is Sally.

  Slutty Sally, is what I call her in my mind.

  She’d better not…

  “Sure thing, babe,” says Stinger, and he plants a big wet one right on her full, red lips.

  She hugs him tight, and he grabs her ass!

  She sighs, and he rubs her shoulders with those large, broad hands, pulling her tight against him.

  That pig!

  “Thanks, Stinger! See you at the party, babe!” she says to MY stepbrother.

  The nerve!

  Then, another slutty cheerleader walks up, but, this time, it’s a blonde.

  “Hey, Tiger! How about a smooch?” she asks.

  Stinger swings her into his arms, and they play tonsil-hockey for a full minute!

  My temper is going ballistic!

  Steady, girl! I tell myself.

  I notice David-Keith sees me watching the whole show, and he’s grinning ear-to-ear.

  “Hey, Cindy! C’mere, baby!” he yells to the redhead.

  Slutty Cindy, then.

  “Say, Thumper, you want to go skinny-dipping down the wadin’ pool, again?” she purrs.

  He grabs the back of her head and plants a big kiss right on her scheming face!

  That slut!

  I’m crestfallen at the realization that my stepbrothers are just a couple of jock horndogs.

  I mean, maybe I could have handled just one of them being an asshole douche, but both of them?

  Both my stepbrothers!

  Traitors!

  Cindy and the other girl laugh and wave and dance away, like they just caught the biggest fish in the lake.

  Who the hell do they think they are?

  —————

  The kissing and grab-assing go on for a ridiculous amount of time, and my ire grows, but I eventually I notice the twins are just having fun with the cheerleaders.

  It’s not like the girls are targeting only the twins.

  All of the players are getting into the act.

  To be honest, I do notice one or two cheerleaders pair off with specific players, but most of the rest are just playful and not really serious.

  I mean, you can tell the serious couples by the looks on the dude’s faces.

  They just aren’t as gleeful as the rest of the team.

  Maybe responsibility is biting them in the ass…or something.

  “Party at Niles!” shouts someone.

  The twins finally manage to disengage and come walking over to me.

  I am still pissed, and they can tell.

  “What’s the matter, Honeybee?” says Stinger.

  “Yeah, you look like you swallowed a lemon, Bee,” says Thumper.

  “You two sure eat up the hero-worship, don’t you?” I say, sarcastically.

  “Well, I think we are heroes, don’t you, Sirrah?” says Stinger.

  “Quite so, quite so, old man. Tut tut and whatnot, old Bean!” says Thumper.

  “Cheerio! James Bond! Webley!” shouts Stinger.

  “Bentley, Rolls and God Save the Queen!” shouts Thumper.

  Then, together they yell out, “Your Royal Majesty!”, and take a deep bow in my direction.

  It’s an old bit they still do, from the time we were just kids.

  One of those ‘twin’ things, like having their own language and stuff like that.

  I roll my eyes at the two of them.

  The look at me, hurt in their eyes.

  They look like a couple of scorned puppies, just scolded for pooping on the carpet.

  My heart does a little somersault, and my inner mom goes “Awwww! Poor things!”

  Just like it always does when I see that look on their faces.

  I sigh.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I mutter.

  I put one hand on my hip, and the other out like I am getting ready to perform “I’m A Little Teapot” but instead I raise my chin, pointing at them, then look down my nose at the twins.

  “The guards are changing at Buckingham palace!” I recite.

  “Christopher Robin’s gone out with Alice!” they both shout in response.

  “PSHAWWWW!” we all three yell, and stick our tongues out at each other.

  There are a bunch of people standing around looking at us like we’ve each grown an extra head or something.

  Someone is probably making a video of this and sticking on FaceTube or something.

  We’re all laughing, and I notice that the twins have managed to get their arms around me, hugging me tight.

  I’m caught between the two men I love most in the world.

  I almost swoon with the realization.

  Then, Stinger kisses me.

  —————

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  STINGER

  It was a tough game.

  If it weren’t for my brother, I might have ended up like poor Twink.

  “Has anyone heard anything about Jason?” I ask in the locker room, as I step into the shower.

  “Yeah, the Frenchman nailed him good,” says Randy, one of the safeties.

  Brian, the tailback, hears me and we speak about the situation while we shower off.

  “Coach Johnson said Twink was in surgery, but that Twink’s father said to go ahead over to the estate for the victory party, and he’d get Twink there as soon as possible,” he says.

  “Yeah, mon, that was really a dirty thing ta do,” says Travis, who is a big, brawny Jamaican with dreadlocks and tattoos, as he soaps up his long dreads.

  Jeff comes over and showers next to him, and they grin and splash each other with soap like a couple of kids.

  “Hey mon, why you don’ make those truly dread?” says Travis.
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  “Because I’m not from ‘de island’, my fren’!” Jeff says, in mock Rastafarian.

  “You smoke enuff de ganja to be from de island, mon,” says Travis and Jeff tosses a handful of water his way.

  They carry on like this for a while, then Jeff hoses off and goes to get his gear.

  Travis follows in a minute, and pretty soon they are recapping the high points of the game.

  I shower and then dress myself to be presentable to the public.

  —————

  As we come out, there are lots of yells and cheers, and the cheerleader squad is there, waiting for us with their pompoms out.

  “Give me a ‘W’! Give me an ‘A’! Give me an ‘S’! Give me a ‘P’! Give me another ‘S’! What’s that spell?” shouts an adorably cross-eyed girl with a slight underbite named Michelle.

  “WASPS!” yell the crowd.

  The girl trips over herself, attempting a split that goes awry.

  She flops on the ground, and then giggles and gets up, and starts cheering again.

  The crowd laughs and claps, happily enjoying her charming show.

  A boy comes out of the crowd with a bunch of flowers for Michelle, and presents them to her, all awkward smiles and shy looks.

  Michelle is simply awestruck by the gesture, and hugs the boy.

  The two of them stand there, looking at each other, oblivious to all the oohs and ahhs from the women in the crowd.

  The other cheerleaders point and roll their eyes, and then come over towards us.

  They aren’t fooled!

  We laugh, and high-five them, as they move closer for selfies and autographs.

  I notice my stepsister standing with Dad and Mom, and then Dad takes Mom off somewhere, probably to get her a soda.

  I also see this dude in a suit, which seems extremely out of place here.

  He’s talking to the Frenchman, whose nose is all bandaged up.

  I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for breaking that prick’s nose, after what happened to Twink.

  The two of them chat and don’t look all that cheery, and once or twice I note they are staring our way.

  It makes me think of two lizards looking at a dead mouse, wondering how it tastes.

  —————

  Bee’s acting kind of funny, as we flirt with the cheerleaders and other various groupies that are congratulating us on the win.

  I make some kissy-face with this attractive redhead, Cindy, and her blonde friend, Rachel.

  It’s fun, and silly, and I smack them on their asses and send them on their way, over to Thump.

  He’s enjoying his fun with them, when I notice Bee staring and pouting, all hurt like.

  A couple more gals come by for some playful flirting and such, and Thumper and I indulge ourselves.

  The rest of the team take their turns fondling the cheerleaders and spanking them.

  It’s sort of our post-game ritual, for luck.

  It seems to be working, I guess.

  I mean, I am not superstitious, but it seems prudent not to anger any of the many football gods that might be out there.

  Who knows, right?

  —————

  I see Bee, and she looks fit to explode.

  I sigh, inwardly.

  I know exactly what she’s feeling, because we’ve lived together in the same house for so long.

  She can’t believe how childish her stepbrothers really are, in spite of us looking like men.

  We’re just the same old kids to her.

  Some douchey frat bros, out to hook up with the cheerleaders, like all good athletes since the dawn of time.

  We’re a couple of boys.

  Boys, not men.

  One day, I wish I could show her what a real man can do for a woman like her.

  But, it can never happen.

  She’s off-limits.

  She’s my stepsister.

  Even if I can’t get her out of my head.

  I’ve tried, believe me.

  But, every time I think I have managed to get past my lustful feelings for her, I am surprised at the other emotions I have boiling just under the surface.

  I’d never act on them, of course.

  It would be wrong.

  But, just once, I’d love to kiss that mouth; taste her lips.

  Make love to her.

  The way it looks in the movies…when the hero and his girl save the day, and the only thing left is for the two of them to ride off into the sunset, happily ever after.

  Yeah, I know it sounds gay.

  Sue me.

  —————

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THUMPER

  In the locker room, I wash off and then towel myself dry.

  When I open my locker, there’s a piece of paper taped up inside, with a phone number written on it.

  I shrug, and put it aside for later.

  I comb my hair, and look at the mirror, checking my teeth for any cracks.

  Some of those hits out there really rattled my noggin.

  It’s always best to stay safe, and wear the proper gear.

  Still, with assholes like the Frenchman out there, on the hunt, and looking to kill, you can’t be too careful.

  I find my V-neck and my shorts, and put them on, then slide on my Reef sandals.

  Reef are the fucking best!

  I like the fact they have a church-key bottle opener built into the soles.

  Makes for an easy day opening beers, for sure.

  I grab my wallet from the locker, and close it.

  I feel like I forgot something, so I open my locker back up.

  The piece of paper with the phone number stares at me like a snake.

  Shrugging, I take the paper and tuck it into my wallet, and then I close the door again.

  I yank the combo lock, and, satisfied it’s truly locked, punch the door for luck.

  I’m not superstitious, but I always do that after I shower and close my locker.

  So sue me…

  My wallet goes into my shorts.

  Then I head out to the waiting crowd.

  —————

  Strolling along, I hook up with Stinger and the rest of the gang, and we make our way out to our fans.

  I think briefly about who might have left me the note.

  Probably that cute cross-eyed cheerleader. I ponder.

  Michelle, I think her name is.

  She’s a bit goofy for my tastes, but she’s so sweet it’s hard to ignore her.

  The way she bats her eyes at us as we go by is just too fucking cute for words.

  “Hey Stinger! Let’s meet the ladies, bro!” I shout, as my twin passes by me.

  Travis, Randy, Jeff and Brian are right behind, and they smack each other with their wet towels, laughing and having a good time.

  “Be right with you, bro!” he shouts as he dodges a strike from Travis.

  I laugh, glad to be on such a great team.

  —————

  I walk out to the front of the room, passing Coach Andrews.

  “How is Twink, Coach?” I ask.

  The Coach looks up from his tablet, where he’s running some of the numbers from the game.

  He frowns at the screen, and then at me.

  “Great stats, Thumper. Both you and your brother were outstanding out there, today!” he adds with feeling.

  He takes me by the arm, and we walk out of the traffic zone, as the other players finish cleaning up.

  It’s kind of noisy, with all those guys carrying on.