The Good Sister: Part One

by London Saint James

  “So are you saying I should sleep with other men?”

  “I’m saying you need to experience yourself. If sleeping with one man or ten men is what it takes then you need to explore that.”

  “And Jacqueline believes Lord Archer is someone I should explore my needs with, doesn’t she?”

  “Trinity, have you had a man place his penis into your mouth?”

  “No.”

  “Nor inside of your vagina or inside of your anus, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “You have seen Reid’s needs.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lord Archer would not be harsh with you. Jacqueline knows this. You are a virgin. The first time your body accepts a man is something that can either be a memorable moment for all the right reasons or a horrible memory. Even with a loving man the first time can hurt. You are also a small woman and you don’t want someone to rip into you. You want someone who will take his time, love and worship your body, prepare your body to accept him. All of us will help you, help you obtain what you want, even if what you want is Reid Addison,” Breeze assured, “but in the end you and only you can make the choice in who you allow to touch your body and how you will allow them to touch you. In the end, only you can answer the question of what am I willing to accept in order to maintain a relationship.”

  When Breeze and I left the kitchen, Alec awaited in the foyer, holding a giant bouquet of deep red roses with a large grin etched across his face.

  “My beautiful, Trinity. These just arrived for you,” he announced as he held out the bouquet.

  “For me?”

  “Yes. Do you find it odd for a beautiful creature such as yourself to receive flowers from an admirer?”

  “Well … actually, yes. I’ve never received flowers in my life.”

  “That is one crime which shall never happen again. If I were you, I would prepare for an onslaught of flowers,” he said, handing me the bouquet.

  I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent before I studied the bouquet in more detail. It had more than three dozen perfect red roses along with sprigs of snow-white freesia. There was a silk white ribbon tying the stems together, and tucked within, a golden note card. I pulled the note card from place. Immediately, I knew who the flowers were from. It said, “My Dove.” I shook my head in disbelief. I’d always wondered what it would be like to receive flowers from a man. I turned the note card over to read…

  I am looking forward to your visit, my dove,

  and I assure you I can think upon nothing

  else until I gaze upon your beauty once

  again.

  Lord Archer

  “Trinity, we should place your flowers into a vase,” Alec suggested.

  “Yes,” I agreed. I followed Alec into the kitchen.

  Jacqueline came into the kitchen. “From Lord Archer?” she asked, eyeing the flowers.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Tomorrow after your morning workout, I want you to come visit me. I have blocked aside some private time, just the two of us.”

  I tried to hide my anxiety, and the need to swallow hard. “Okay, Jacqueline.”

  “Excellent,” Jacqueline replied before blowing a kiss to Alec.

  ****

  I spent a restless night, dreaming of gray open spaces. I woke to find I was not home in California but I was actually in France. Everything about the last few days seemed like such a dream, unreal in so many ways. Reid flickered through my thoughts, and lingered in my dreams. Within my dreams I didn’t see his beautiful face. I saw anger, violence, and it melted into the grayness of my nightmares. I tossed and turned, trying hard to put the bad memories away. I tried to erase the scene of Reid and Breeze. I thought I’d tucked them deep into that closed off corner of my mind, only to find them popping back out at me like a specter, waking me again and again.

  I smacked my pillow with my fists, “Ahh…” I grumbled. “I need to sleep.” I flung myself backward, allowing my head to pummel the pillow. After a few moments, I drifted…

  I woke to several of my sisters tugging me out of bed, much to my protest. Time for the daily workout. A new day. I knew for once, this day would not be spent in solitude or in boredom. My new sisters were hell bent to torture me to death with stomach crunches, leg lunges, and bending my spine into proper posture.

  By midmorning, I made my way to Jacqueline’s suite. I stood outside Jacqueline’s door for a minute, in an attempt to catch my breath. This need for breath was not due to a panic attack, but could be blamed on the sprint I took up the stairs, once I noticed the time.

  I knocked on Jacqueline’s door.

  “Come in, my petit,” I heard Jacqueline call out.

  The coolness of the knob rested against my sweaty palm. I quickly rubbed my hands down my thighs, grabbed the crystal knob, and opened the door.

  There was an outer sitting room, impeccably decorated with fine furnishings. Jacqueline took me on a tour. Everything, the furniture, the bed, the walls, was covered in expensive materials within differing shades of pale blue and cream. Silks and long billowing swags of material formed a canopy overtop Jacqueline’s oversized bed.

  “This is a beautiful room,” I commented.

  “Thank you, my petit,” Jacqueline said. She led me to a long couch that was covered in expensive damask, and prompted me to sit. “There are many things we must discuss, oui?

  “Yes,” I replied, really unsure of everything that must be discussed.

  “Tell me, my beautiful Trinity. I must know. Have you changed your mind about your Reid?” I glanced down at my hands, resting in my lap. “Do not look down. There is nothing we cannot discuss, and nothing we cannot say to each other.”

  “I love Reid,” I admitted. “Maybe I shouldn’t love him, but that has not changed.”

  “Ah … then we shall continue until he burns for you.”

  “Jacqueline, I’m not sure I can be what Reid needs.”

  “And what do you need, my sister?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Then we shall work at finding out what it is that you need first.”

  “I don’t understand, Jacqueline. What do you mean?”

  “You need to understand your body, how it works, what you find pleasurable, what you find distasteful. You need to see yourself for who and what you are.”

  “What am I?”

  Jacqueline stood up, took my hand, and led me over to a dressing mirror. Placing a chair in front of the mirror Jacqueline instructed, “Sit, my petit.” I took a seat, facing the mirror.

  “I don’t like mirrors.”

  Jacqueline pulled the clip out of my curls.

  “Trinity, some of what we need to do may be difficult for you. You may face your fears; you may find pain in some of what you face. Do you still wish to continue?”

  “Yes,” I assured, but closed my eyes.

  “Look,” Jacqueline said, “open your eyes, and look.”

  I opened my eyes. Seeing Jacqueline standing like a goddess behind me, I was plain. My pale image filled me with sadness. Jacqueline stroked my cheek, my neck, my shoulders then my hair.

  “What do you want me to see, Jacqueline?”

  “What do you see, Trinity? A scared little girl or a strong beautiful woman?”

  This was too hard. I wanted to close my eyes and tuck my chin, but Jacqueline held my gaze within the mirror. I looked into the reflection of Jacqueline’s autumn eyes, and for the first time, I knew there was no need to hide any longer.

  “A scared little girl,” I admitted. “I see flaws. I see those big bottle-cap glasses. I see wild unruly curls. I see no one of interest, a ghost.”

  “Look,” Jacqueline said. She ran a fingertip over the arch of my brow. “The arch of your brow, the shape of your eyes, do you see?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your eyes hold power, Trinity. They are the windows to the soul. The gateway to desire. The flame of the body that can burn a man. Your eyes, in particular, hold
great power. The cat-like shape giving way to sexuality, temptation, seduction. And the color symbolizes life and fertility. Your eyes hold your life-force, your desire, your true nature. Look at your eyes, Trinity.”

  It was difficult, but I focused upon my own eyes. The shape, the color…

  “Did you know the emerald color of your eyes is sacred?” Jacqueline asked.

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Emerald green has been the color of beauty and constant love. This tells you who you are, Trinity. Within the culture of ancient Rome, green was the color of Venus, the goddess of beauty and love.”

  “Venus?”

  “Yes, my petit. You are a goddess.” Jacqueline smiled. “Look at your hair. The beauty of each long curl. The color. The shimmer. Each strand holds on to the essence of gold.”

  “Gold?”

  “Yes, my petit. Gold is much more than monetary. It too is associated with the gods. The Tibetan Buddhist believes in five sacred stones, gold being one of them. Gold symbolizes the golden ray of the sun, and is linked with divinity and those gods associated with the sun.”

  “So…”

  “You encapsulate the sun, beauty, love, life, desire, temptation, sexuality. You, Trinity, are a sensual being who holds great power. All you need to do is come to understand, learn, and to harness and use the power within you, my petit.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Stand up,” Jacqueline instructed. I complied. “You need to understand your body. Not be frightened of it. Take off your clothes.”

  “My clothes?”

  “Yes, remove them.”

  “But—”

  “Trinity, if you cannot see the beauty within your own body, how do you expect others to? You must become acquainted with your body, not be ashamed of it. You must be comfortable within your own skin.”

  I turned my back to the mirror as I stripped off my t-shirt, my cotton work out pants then stopped. “Can I leave on my bra and panties?”

  “No.”

  I hesitantly took off my bra then slipped my panties off. Immediately I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to hide. Jacqueline turned me around and moved my arms down to my sides.

  “Do you see the curves of your body?” Jacqueline asked. Her hands moved over my neck and shoulders then slid down my sides, down my hips, over the curve and concave of my belly, up and over my perking breasts. “Each curve, each shape and gentle sway of your body is perfection. Look at your skin. Flawless, my petit. You have skin the color of cream without blemish. You are unmarked by time. You shall never be more beautiful than you are now,” Jacqueline said, moving her hands back to my breasts. “Place your hands upon your breasts.”

  I did what she asked. Jacqueline placed her hands overtop mine. “Feel the perfection of your breasts. Then look, my petit. Look at the color of your perking nipples.” Jacqueline removed our hands, allowing me to see the fleshy pink tips. “Men will fall upon their knees to suckle at these breasts, Trinity. They hold the essence of life and power, and just like your eyes and your hair, they are beautiful.”

  “They aren’t too small?”

  “No,” Jacqueline assured, touching a nipple with a gentle brush of a fingertip, “they are perfect, like ripe fruit.”

  The sound of a chime drifted through the room. It was the clock in the hall. I grinned. It reminded me of home.

  “Why do you smile?” Jacqueline asked.

  “The sound. It reminded me of home and Reid.”

  Jacqueline placed one hand to my woman’s mound, cupping gently. I stiffened.

  “Reid touched you here once, oui?” Jacqueline asked.

  I admitted to Jacqueline he had.

  “With his mouth,” I whispered.

  “And did you find pleasure in what he did?”

  “Yes.”

  “There are many pleasures to be had. Do you wish to learn of them?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then look at yourself. You need not be ashamed of your body, of your femininity or of your sexuality, Trinity. This,” Jacqueline said, applying a little bit of presser onto my secret area, “men have gone to war for. Killed for. Men long to look upon this sacred flower, taste it, hold it, touch it, press their bodies inside of it, enjoy the pleasure we give and gain. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” Jacqueline removed her hand. “Look at yourself, Trinity. See the perfection, the wonder and the beauty of the female form. We are bearers of life. We are powerful, sexual, sensual creatures. Men adore us, worship us, long to obtain us, but we choose, Trinity. We choose who we allow to touch us. We hold the power.”

  Jacqueline walked away.

  “Do you want me to still stand here?” I asked.

  “Yes. I want you to study your body, look at it, all of it. When I return put on this robe and lie upon the bed.”

  I took the light blue robe into hand. “Where are you going?”

  “I will be back. Do not fret, my petit.”

  I stood naked in front of the mirror, looking at my body. As I stood it became easier and easier to look at myself. My face was pale, unadorned, but I did study the lines to my face, my neck. I turned, gazing upon my nakedness from the side, from the back then twisted from side to side. I did what Jacqueline said. I studied my hair, the color, and the length of my curls. One curl had fallen over my right shoulder and concealed my right breast. I swept my hair aside. I was almost nineteen, but I’d never looked upon my body as a whole.

  I studied my hands and traced one of the light blue veins atop my hand. I looked at my nails, the length of my fingers. I slid my hands over my neck, my chest, over my breasts, feeling the form of them. I watched as my nipples tipped hard. I studied the pink coloration. Slowly, I moved down my body. Outlined my navel. For the first time I actually experienced the texture and responses of my own skin to my own touch.

  When Jacqueline returned, I put on the robe, walked over to the bed, and lay back without question.

  “Trinity, do not be alarmed. This is my personal physician,” Jacqueline announced. I turned to see Jacqueline was indeed bringing a tall completely gray haired man with her.

  “I’m not sick.”

  Jacqueline laughed. “I know, my petit.”

  “Why do I need to see a doctor?”

  Jacqueline sat down upon the side of the bed, holding on to my hand as I spoke. “All of the men who visit us here at the chateau are tested. We are tested as well. We do this to ensure our health, and to ensure our suitors’ health.”

  “But I’ve never been with a man so I—”

  “Shh…” Jacqueline assured. “I know, my petit. But at some point you intend to give yourself to a man, oui?”

  I could only imagine my cheeks flaming the color of a tomato. “Yes.”

  “Then we must ensure there are no complications such as pregnancy. The doctor will perform a physical and give you an injection. We take these injections every twelve weeks.”

  “What about condoms?” I asked.

  “All of our suitors have a clean bill of health. And we request updated reports every twelve weeks. If you wish, you can request the use of a condom,” Jacqueline replied, “but I must also insist on the injections as well.”

  “I hate shots,” I said, closing my eyes. “I told you how I fear hospitals, doctors, and why.”

  “I know, my sister. I will stay with you during the exam. Hold your hand,” Jacqueline said. “If you wish, keep your eyes closed. I won’t leave you.”

  I squeezed Jacqueline’s hand.

  “Trinity, I am going to take some blood,” the doctor said in a deep toned voice.

  Large hands were on my arm, pulling it out from my side, and tying something off above my elbow. I kept my eyes welded shut, trying not to remember all the time I spent in the hospital when I was young. Jacqueline whispered a song into my ear.

  “There, it’s over,” he said, releasing the tightness around my arm. I jumped when hands brushed back my hair. “Everything will be fine,” the doc
tor said. Hands at my neck, feeling … pressing … then over my breasts probing, then hands moved to my abdomen… “Do you have any discomfort or pain when I press here?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  He pressed and moved. “Here?”

  “No.”

  “Trinity, I need to move your legs,” he said. He gently began to spread them. “I need you to bring your knees up, keep your feet on the bed.” I did what he asked then tensed.

  “Shh … my petit, we must ensure your health,” Jacqueline said then went back to humming a melody.

  The doctor spread me intimately, followed by a light bit of probing but nothing harsh. “She is untouched, Jacqueline,” the doctor said then he pressed my legs together and covered my body with something. “I need to listen to your heart. Will you sit up for me?” the doctor asked.

  I sat up. Jacqueline was still holding my hand as the doctor listened to my heart, took my pulse then moved, obviously looking in my ears, feeling around my throat. I felt something wrap around my upper arm then heard a swooshing noise. The wrap around my arm became tighter. I decided the doctor was taking my blood pressure.

  The Doctor inquired, “Trinity, do you take any medications?”

  In a small voice I replied, “No.”

  “Do you have any allergies to medications?”

  “Um … not that I know of.”

  “Alright Trinity, you are going to feel a sting,” the doctor said. Something was rubbed upon my skin. By the smell, it was rubbing alcohol. I jumped, feeling a sharp poke to my hip as he gave me the birth control injection. “It’s over now,” he assured.

  “Okay,” I said. I opened my eyes to see him pack up his bag.

  “You did well, my petit,” Jacqueline said. “No worries now.”

  I nodded.

  “I will walk the doctor out. Why don’t you take a long hot bath and relax. We will talk later,” Jacqueline said.

  I watched Jacqueline and the doctor go, feeling relieved the whole ordeal was over, but also a little peculiar.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was my nineteenth birthday, and it had been a long week. I’d spent every morning with my sisters, working on the beauty of our bodies, sculpting and toning, then working on my posture. In the afternoons I spent time with Jacqueline, my goal, accepting my body. While in the evenings I sat with Amelia reading or with Ceclie increasing my knowledge on art, books or current events.