Obsession: A Twin Menage Romance

by Stephanie Brother

  Honestly, I’ve never hated people so much in my life before, and I used to love people. I thought getting a job waiting tables would be fun, I thought this would be a great way to pay off my student debt while I look for writing jobs, a neat way to meet people, and learn about business, but no. None of those things is true. It’s a great way to go crazy very quickly, to fuck up your sleeping pattern, to work super hard without any kind of reward and to hate people. All kinds of people.

  If I didn’t need the money I would have quit this job weeks ago, but here I am still, the tail end of an economic crisis that hit just as I came out of college, a country where unemployment has always been rife in the arts sector and now even more so than anywhere else, and a city where rent has gone through the roof. I have a degree in English and business, and I’ve had my work showcased in a number of highly regarded newspapers and magazines, but can I get a job anywhere but a hipster restaurant that puts emphasis on looking good over common sense? Can I fuck.

  I take dessert to the three guys and smile while I do so, because smiling, apparently, is a sure-fire way of getting a good tip.

  Obviously, my attempts at good nature are misinterpreted, though, and because quite a large amount of alcohol has been consumed, there doesn’t seem to be a filter on what they say to me.

  “Doing anything later?” one of them asks me.

  “Going home”, I respond.

  “You know, we don’t live far from here, why don’t you come home with us?”

  I laugh off the comment.

  “Seriously”, one of the other guys says, his eyes all over my tits. “You look like the kind of girl who likes that kind of thing.”

  This is the kind of thing I have to put up with on a daily basis. I don’t mind direct men, what I can’t tolerate are men that are disrespectful. The first time someone said something disrespectful to me, I threw a glass of water in his face and got a warning from my manager. Now, I’m so desensitized to it all, I just let it slide.

  I laugh it off. “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

  “Not unless you want to show us your tits.”

  I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. You’d think this kind of stuff stopped happening to women years ago, and it wouldn’t be something that would normally take place here, in a posh, modern restaurant, but sadly it happens way more than I’ll like to admit.

  It’s embarrassing and upsetting and all I can do is walk away while I know they’ll be watching my ass wiggle in this ridiculously short skirt as I do so.

  We are made to wear uniforms that show off our best assets, as our sleazy manager puts it, which is frankly fucking ridiculous.

  I know that looking presentable is important, but there is a huge difference between presentable and fuckable, and I have respect for myself and my body. That doesn’t mean I’m not the kind of person who enjoys sex, and sexy situations, quite the opposite actually, it just means I don’t like being exploited, and here in the restaurant, in my place of work, I feel exactly that. Like I’m on fucking display.

  The three guys are the last in the restaurant before close, and their attempts to woo me get so intimidating at one point, I have to take a break, tell the manager and get them warned, which he’s reluctant to do. Finally, they leave, drunk, chastised in the lightest way possible, and one hundred percent without me.

  With the doors closed the manager gives me a talking to about how to best treat our customers in order to keep them coming back, and I nearly quit then and there. I’m a strong person but even I’m getting worn down by this shit day in day out.

  Two o’clock in the fucking morning and I’m back in here for early shift. I haven’t written a thing in what feels like months, and that expose article I’ve been planning on this city’s underground fighting rings is still nothing more than a handful of half-written sentences and stuff that might not even be true.

  I’m weary and I hate it. I also feel more alone here that I have done in a long time. I’ve been single for what feels like ages, and even though I keep getting propositions like the ones from those three douche-balls in the restaurant, it feels like such a long time since I’ve met a decent, real man. I’m not ancient, but I’m not getting any younger either. I’m thinking about kids of my own one day, and I’d like to find the man who has the balls enough to provide that for me, not boys who think that telling you you’ve got a great ass is the only way they are going to conquer you.

  I should get a cab home at this hour, but I don’t want to waste the cash. This part of the city can get a little seedy at night time, but I live close to here and I’ve never had any problem.

  When I hear a voice behind me, however, I immediately regret that decision. My blood runs cold in my body and my heart skips a beat, and within less than a couple of seconds, all three of them are up alongside me.

  Liam

  Two thousand dollars and a swollen hand isn’t a bad night at all.

  I could have made it three fights, but the second one took it out of me, and the third was a random, last minute entry I didn’t want to risk and I’m glad I didn’t because the man who stepped up in my place was taken apart in less time it took him to do up his laces. I could have beaten him, but the injuries wouldn’t have made it worthwhile so I just watched instead and took notes for next time.

  I’m on the way home when I see her, practically running down the street, three big men around her like bees fighting to get nectar out of a flower.

  She’s a gorgeous thing as well, but nothing about this situation looks good to me. It’s the middle of the night, the streets are deserted, this is not a good neighborhood anyway and she doesn’t look like she’s with them at all. She looks like she’s trying to run away and can’t.

  I wasn’t going to fight again, and my hand could do with some ice, but I can’t let this pass. Bad things happen to women all over this city and I’m not prepared to let that happen here.

  I go over, quickly, and I’m up in front of them blocking their way before they have a chance to react.

  Three men, but nothing I haven’t come up against before, and, anyway, I’m not here to fight, I’m here to find out what they fuck they are doing intimidating someone who’s just finished work and is on their way home. I could smell the alcohol from the other side of the street, and now I can see the badge on the work uniform under her coat, the situation makes absolute sense.

  I hate people that think they can intimidate others. I’m conscious of that myself around women, and even though I’m not that big, I’m wiry and muscular and extremely powerful.

  At least two of these three guys look like they go to the gym, but lifting weights and making muscle isn’t the same as knowing how to use it.

  “Everything alright?” I say casually.

  “Everything’s fine”, the biggest guy says back to me.

  “I wasn’t asking you”, I say directing my question again to the girl, who from here I can see is absolutely stunning. “Are you alright?”

  “I was before these guys decided to try and walk me home, yeah.”

  “Just trying to be friendly”, the scrawniest of the guys says, his eyes shifty.

  “I think she’s fine without you”, I say.

  “That’s none of your business”, the big guy says.

  “I’m going home”, the girl says, her hands up in the air passively.

  “A young girl out here on her own, anything can happen”, the big guy says, reaching for her wrist. “Best we make sure she gets home okay.”

  The girl tries to pull her hand away but the guy won’t let her, and suddenly the situation has changed between us. I sigh, look at the girl and then work out how best to play this.

  “You don’t want to do that”, I say.

  “Leave”, the scrawny guy says, stepping towards me with a switchblade held prone.

  This is ridiculous. I’ve seen some crazy stuff on the streets before, and been in situations similar to this, but these guys are clearly drunk and even
though there are three of them and they are armed, they have no idea what I’m capable of. Where do they think I’ve come from at this time of night?

  Talk about fucking stupid.

  The girl looks scared, which is pretty understandable considering there are four guys surrounding her, one of which has a knife and the other a hand around her wrist.

  “Last chance”, I say, the tension palpable between us.

  Big guy and his gym buddy look at each other and laugh. “Don’t be fucking stupid”, gym buddy says and comes for me.

  It isn’t pretty, but fighting never is, street fighting even less so. I try and make it quick, but even then it’s impossible to avoid the odd shocking injury. By the time the big guy hits the deck, scrawny guy has run away, and gym buddy has been completely neutralized with one bone-crunching punch, the pretty girl is half way down the street, running for her life.

  I should probably leave her to it, especially now the threat has been removed, but something about her makes me want to make sure she’s absolutely, one-hundred percent okay. One conversation to confirm it and I’m on my way. These guys can wallow in their own blood and piss for all I care, right now, my attention is needed elsewhere.

  Jasmine

  I’m not exactly running when he gets to me, but walking fast nonetheless, making it absolutely clear the last thing I want is to hang around.

  That was totally insane, and I’m not sure what to think. My hands are trembling and my brain is moving faster than my feet but still unable to process it.

  “Are you ok?” he asks.

  “That wasn’t necessary”, I say. “And nor is this. I’m going home.”

  “Just hold on one sec”, he says.

  I don’t. I’m scared, perhaps even more now than I was before this mysterious man arrived. I don’t want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t, but, fuck, that was a terrifying display of raw power.

  “You shouldn’t be out walking alone”, he calls after me, finally letting me leave.

  I don’t look back to him, I don’t hold on, and I try not to think again about what’s just happened.

  When I finally get back home, alone and safe, I realize just how wet my pussy is. It’s insane and I’m totally confused, but when my breathing and heart rate finally get back to normal, I can’t help but touch myself thinking about him.

  I come in record time, my orgasm so powerful my knees go weak.

  Two.

  Jasmine

  It’s a month before I see him again, but he’s never far from my thoughts during that time. I imagine him a hundred different ways, and each time I see that smoldering look in his eyes just before I come, and can’t help but get turned on by the memory of that determination he showed to protect me at all cost, the way he systematically took apart three men with such little effort his pulse rate hardly increased.

  It turns me on way more than I’m comfortable admitting, so much, I’m embarrassed to talk about it.

  I know nothing about him and he’s with me more than anyone else I know. When I finally build up the courage to walk home again at night, I hope that every night I do so, he’s there watching me, ready for the right moment to approach. If he is, he never does so.

  I begin to regret not allowing him to accompany me home, even if the situation didn’t allow for it, and even if repeated a thousand times, I know I’d do the same.

  I couldn’t and it wasn’t right, and because of that I know I’ve risked never seeing him again.

  So much time passes that I wonder if I’ve changed his appearance in my mind, that if I see him again I’ll even recognize him, or whether the thing itself happened at all, or was maybe an entire creation of my imagination - the kind of thing a tired brain makes up to entertain itself during a journey back home, until one night, when I’ve had another shitty evening at the restaurant, and I’m ready to forget all about him and try and move on, when I least expect it, I see him again.

  It’s such a shock I nearly drop a tray of empty glasses. I’m so surprised I don’t know what to say. The look on his face tells me he’s here because he knows that I work here, and even though I’ve imagined this situation a number of times, I still find myself stuck for what to say.

  Eventually, because I know I can’t do anything else even if I wanted to, even though I have no idea what to say, I go over.

  Same smoldering eyes, even more intense. Same perfect physical form, even more real. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. Even with the remnants of a healing black eye.

  I didn’t think I’d ever see him again after that night and now here his is again, sat in my restaurant. This man has made me come more times than my left hand and he doesn’t even know it yet.

  How the fuck am I supposed to begin?

  Liam

  I couldn’t resist coming back. I already knew where she worked because of the uniform she was wearing, it’s just taken me this long to pluck up the courage to come and find her. Courage in front of danger has never scared me, but asking out a girl I like, especially in the situation we met is fucking terrifying.

  I didn’t want her to feel like I was overstepping the mark, so I thought I’d wait until the memory of that night had cooled off, and I was back in the area. I have no idea how this is going to go. People like me scare women sometimes, and the stuff that I do isn’t exactly PG, so, although I’m a good looking guy, I can be a super tough sell.

  “Hi”, I say when she comes over.

  “Hi”, she says with a smile, giving everything away in a second.

  I know how to read people. It makes me good at what I do. People telegraph stuff all the time even though they don’t realize it. The night we met she was scared and intimidated, but right now she’s open and relaxed. I know she’s been thinking about me without evening needing to ask her. That much is clear. I know she’s happy to see me again too. I’ve been thinking about her as well. Despite all the other shit that’s been going on at the moment, this girl has been enough to keep me focused. Waiting a month has been hard, but I knew this was important enough not to rush. Winning is all about making the right moves at the right moment, and right now is the right time to make my move here.

  “Busy night?” I ask, the question not important so much as the asking of it.

  “Same as usual”, she says casually.

  “I was in the area, thought I’d come and say hello. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “No”, she says. “I was-. I’ve been thinking about you. I never said thank you for what you did.”

  “That’s ok. I’m sorry it had to go down like that.”

  “You saved my ass”, she says. “I-. Honestly, I’m glad you’re here. What do you want to drink, my shout? It’s the least I can do.”

  She’s even better looking than I remember her, far too good to drag into my world. One night will never be enough, but one night is better than zero and it’s impossible to resist any longer.

  I’m not the kind of guy a girl like this needs to get messed up with long-term, but I’m here because I know that short term I can’t hold myself back. I’ve ruined countless relationships because of what my chosen profession is, and it’s made one thing perfectly clear. No matter how much you like the girl, nothing good comes from exposing her to that. I saw her reaction the night we met, if she was ever to come to one of my fights, she’d see a side of me that would make her want to be as far away from me as physically possible.

  She’s far too sweet a girl for me to do that too, and even though I know already she’s been thinking about fucking me, I need to take responsibility for her emotional well-being. Don’t get too attached. Fuck, but don’t fuck people up. I do enough of that in the makeshift rings in the basement levels of abandoned buildings.

  I get attached easily too, so I have to be careful with something so addictive.

  “I have a suggestion”, I say. “If you aren’t interested, that’s cool, but I’ve got to ask.”

  “Go on”, she says, alre
ady intrigued, already on the hook and waiting for me to yank it away from her.

  Just a fuck, nothing else.

  “I like you”, I say.

  “You don’t know anything about me”, she says.

  “I know you don’t like working here. I know you’re intelligent, creative and undervalued. I know you’ve been thinking about me since that night too.”

  “Okay”, she says, going a little red.

  “I’m going to be direct, and I hope I don’t overstep the mark in doing so. I think you appreciate direct men, so I’m going to go out on a limb here. Let me take you home when you’ve finished here and we can do all the things you’ve been dreaming about. If I’ve completely misread the situation, and you aren’t interested in me or that proposition, I apologize profusely, and I’ll leave immediately.”

  She looks away for a second, a tell as clear as the light of the day she’s been caught and can’t quite believe it.

  “You know how many people come in here and ask me if they can take me home?”

  “I think it probably happens on a daily basis”, I say.

  “So what makes you different?”

  “You want to come with me”, I say.

  She bites her lip seductively. “I finish at one”, she says. “You’ll have to wait for me outside.”

  “I can do that.”

  She shakes her head, still smiling. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “You don’t have to do anything.”

  “I think I already have”, she says.

  Jasmine

  I’m not the kind of girl that does these things, especially not with a complete stranger, and the kind of person that has the capacity to send three huge people to the infirmary. I should feel more vulnerable because of that, but I don’t. When we walk back to my house I feel protected, and when we get inside, our hands all over each other, I feel like I’ve never wanted anything else so urgently in my life.

  Liam has cuts and bruises all over his body between tattoos that fill in the patches of skin swollen by muscle. I want to know why, but I don’t feel like it’s the right question to ask right now.