Grayson: Twins (Members From Money Book 22)

by Katie Dowe

  “Well hello there,” he said coming into his room and shutting the door behind him. She stared back at him impassively.

  “What? You won’t talk to me?” he asked coming to sit at the edge of his own bed.

  “What was that yesterday Allen? What were you trying to do?” she demanded eyes narrowed, practically shooting sparks at him.

  “I was trying…to show you how I feel,” he said looking down at his blue carpet.

  “Really? Coz it felt like you were trying to manipulate me into doing what you wanted,” she accused. Allen looked up into her eyes, hurt in his own.

  “How can you think that after everything we’ve been through together?” he asked.

  “How could you do that after everything we’ve been through together?” she countered.

  Allen’s face reddened though he hesitated to call it blushing. “What did I do that was so bad? I was just showing you how I feel.”

  “Oh? You just discovered these feelings the minute I got a boyfriend?” she asked snarkily.

  “Boyfriend? Really? Him?” Allen said completely distracted.

  “Yes. Boyfriend. Kareem is my boyfriend and you will deal.”

  Allen stared at her uncomprehendingly. “You can’t be serious,” he said at last.

  “Why not?” Frances challenged.

  “You kissed me back yesterday. I felt it,” he said.

  “You took me by surprise,” Frances said.

  “But..” Allen began.

  “No buts Allen, this is how it is. You need to accept it.”

  Allen said nothing further, just stood up and walked out. He also accepted nothing – he resolved to make it his life’s work to get rid of Kareem if it was the last thing he did.

  *****

  In spite of his best efforts, Kareem and Frances lasted a whole year. It was the most miserable year of Allen’s life and he made sure Frances knew it. She responded by spending less and less time with him; they were drifting away from each other slowly but surely. It made Frances really sad but there was only so much she could do without giving in to Allen’s manipulations. At the end of the year though, Kareem came out to her; he told her that he loved her, so he couldn’t continue to lie to her. He was a transgender individual and he felt like it was time he embraced it and accepted it about himself. He hoped that Frances could accept it too.

  She could; but only as a friend. If Kareem’s ultimate goal was to be a female, that was fine, but Frances wasn’t a lesbian. She wanted a man who wanted to be a man. Their break up was amicable but Frances didn’t tell Allen about it. There was just too much poison in that well.

  “How come Kareem doesn’t stay over anymore, and you guys aren’t joined at the hip?”

  “How is that any of your business?”

  “Hey, I’m just a concerned friend. If you don’t want to tell me, fine,” Allen said throwing his hands in the air.

  Frances hesitated, watching him for a moment. “We broke up,” she said at last.

  “What? Seriously? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” Allen asked all up in her face, the his face became thunderous. “What did he do?”

  Frances pushed him away, “Allen relax, it was mutual; we want different things, we’re still friends though.”

  Allen glared at her. “What do I look like? Oprah? This isn’t a talk show and you don’t get to speak in clichés with me.”

  Frances sighed and closed her eyes and then opened them. “It's not my news to tell Allen. Just know that he didn’t do anything, I didn’t do anything. It was just…the situation.”

  Allen leaned back on the chair staring at her. “So he’s gay huh?”

  Frances rolled her eyes but didn’t reply.

  Allen jumped up in glee. “I knew it! I knew there was something...” he began.

  “He’s not gay!” Frances yelled. “Now could you please leave it alone?”

  “Fine,” Allen said sitting back down and studying her closely. “You don’t look heart broken.”

  Frances looked up at him, narrowing her eyes in annoyance. “What? Not enough gorging on ice cream and lounging about in my pajamas for you?”

  Allen shrugged. “Well its kind of hard to comfort someone if they don’t look miserable,” he said making Frances laugh.

  “You could always buy me a jeep to cheer me up; it's way more fun than whatever ‘comforting’ you had in mind.”

  “You’re all heart Frances,” he said wryly.

  “Aren’t I just? Now finish your breakfast and go to class,” she ordered standing up and lifting her heavy duty bag. She actually had a Honda that she’d insisted on buying herself from her savings. Over the years, she’d done various odd jobs, including presently working in the campus library. It was an old car, but reliable and it was all hers. Allen had offered to upgrade her many times but she’d always refused so she assumed he knew she was joking about the jeep.

  When she got home that evening there was a brand new dark green jeep sitting in the driveway with a massive bow on the front. A small crowd of their neighbors was standing around, admiring it and a slight cheer went up when they saw her.

  Frances stopped and stared at the car, hoping it was someone else’s who was maybe currently behind her and that was why everyone was staring in her direction. She walked slowly toward the group, looking for Allen but he wasn’t there.

  “Hey Frances, Allen left this here for you. He asked us to watch out for it and give you this when you arrived,” Carlton, who lived a floor below them said holding out a key to her. She stared at it and then at the car and then back to the keys, and then up to Carlton’s face. He was grinning like a loon.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  Carlton shrugged. “Dunno. He left,” he said not very helpfully. He was still holding out the keys so Frances took them with a fake smile and turned to the car.

  “You gonna take it for a test drive?” Carlton asked excitedly.

  “Nah, I think I’ll just…drive it into the garage for now,” she said to everyone’s disappointment. The apartment complex had a two car garage for every apartment. Frances parked the jeep in Allen’s spot and then drove her Honda into her spot. Allen could park his car in the driveway for all she cared. The crowd had thankfully dispersed by the time she emerged from the garage and she went up to their apartment and shut the door behind her, planning her words carefully. She made to step further into the apartment when she froze, noticing the petals on the floor for the first time. It was a carpet of red petals, leading to…she walked forward to see. They meandered down the hall to the dining area where the room was dimmed with closed blinds. The table was laid for two and soft music was playing from the speakers. There was a man in the kitchen, fiddling about with something on the cooker.

  “Hello?” she called uncertainly, wondering if she should be calling the police right now. He turned around and smiled at her.

  “Ah, Ms. Hilton; welcome. I am to inform you that dinner will be served promptly at seven. There is a dress on your bed and you have thirty minutes if you wish to freshen up,” he said with a smile before turning back to his delicious smelling concoctions. Frances hesitated, wanting to ask more questions but she didn’t want to put this strange man in a spot. Clearly, he was here with permission. She padded to her room, where the rose petals were arranged in a heart around her bed, in the midst of which lay a dress. Lying atop the dress was a note, and Frances sighed in relief.

  “At last, an explanation,” she said aloud hurrying forward to pick it up.

  Hey Frannie,

  How you doing? The dress is vintage Chanel, the shoes are Louboutins. Please oblige me by not making a fuss; just put the damned clothes on, comb your hair for once and let’s have a nice dinner. Whatever happens after that is up to you. Okay?

  Love,

  Your best friend, Allen.

  Chapter 3

  Frances was torn between stubborn recalcitrance and curiosity. She wanted to see where this was going but she didn’t want to do
as she was told. It would set a dangerous precedent if this was what she thought it was. Still, she stepped in the shower and washed everything including her hair. She blow dried it without a comb so it fell in random curls all the way down her back and then ran her fingers through it to simulate a comb. She picked up the white dress; it was short and fit her like a glove. Her boobs were half exposed in the deep V of the neckline but there was a string of pearls sitting beside the dress that she could use to partially cover those up. The dress ended just above her knees and combined with the six inch Louboutins, they gave the illusion that she was much taller than her five foot five. There were also pearl earrings in the stash and a bracelet as well. She walked a bit unsteadily out of the room and down the hall to the dining area. Allen was there, standing waiting for her in a black tux. He had a bunch of red roses in his hand and as she wobbled toward him, he stretched out a hand to help her out.

  “Careful now,” he murmured as he led her to their table and laid the flowers next to her.

  “Is this a date?” she asked right off.

  “Ding ding ding! Give the lady a gold bracelet,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and extracting an actual gold bracelet which he slipped onto the wrist not sporting the pearl bracelet.

  “Allen,” she began to protest.

  “Shut up,” he replied reaching for his napkin. She stared at him, eyebrows raised but he ignored her and continued arranging his napkin to his satisfaction. He looked over at her to see if she was doing the same and found her still watching him. He sighed and leaned back looking back at her.

  “Okay fine, it’s a date. We’re on a date. I’m decking you with expensive presents which I know you don’t like but I’ve wanted to do this forever and now we’re taking our relationship to the next level, I’m allowed,” he said.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “We’re taking our relationship to the next level? Wow, someone forgot to drop me a memo.”

  Allen was silent, staring at his plate for a bit. “Do you not…want me?”

  “So not the point Allen,” she replied right away.

  “Well then, what is the point?” he asked.

  “The point is, you can’t go making arbitrary life changes for me as if I was your pet or a piece of furniture!” she said or rather yelled.

  “I don’t think you’re a piece of furniture!” he protested or rather yelled back.

  “Well, you’re sure treating me like one,” she countered.

  “You’re the most important thing in my life. I don’t know what I would do without you. I thought you felt the same about me,” Allen said.

  “And this is how you show it?”

  “With wine and dinner and presents? When did that become a bad thing? There are so many girls who would die to be in your place!”

  Frances stood up abruptly, wobbling a bit in her six inch heels. “Well then go get one of them and enjoy your dinner,” she shouted before stomping off to her room, kicking off her shoes before she’d walked three steps. She slammed her door, struggling out of the dress as soon as she’d gotten it closed. She flopped down on the bed, in a ring of roses, in her underwear and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes were stinging and there was a lump in her throat but she ignored them in favor of studying the patterns on the ceiling. She wondered if it was time for her to move out. Their situation was so complicated; for one thing, Allen was paying for her college tuition, she was living in his house, eating his food…she guessed it was just one step to sleeping in his bed. But she hadn’t lived the life she had only to end up being that girl. There was a tentative knock on the door.

  “Frances? Please can I come in?” Allen asked from the other side. He sounded close to tears too. Frances said nothing but she heard the knob turn and he was opening the door. She just watched him as he poked his head in slowly, like a turtle emerging from its shell. She wanted to laugh but the lump was still in her throat and she was afraid of what would happen if she opened her mouth. He stretched his hand into the room and hanging from his fingers was a white handkerchief which he waved up and down. Frances couldn’t help the soundless laugh that escaped her. when he saw it, his face lightened and he stepped fully into her room.

  “I am crap at seducing women. Too used to them falling at my feet.”

  He looked at her, waiting for some sort of response but she just continued to lay curled on her bed, looking like temptation personified.

  “Please tell me what to do or say to make this okay,” he said.

  Her eyes swiveled to look at him, judging his sincerity and then she shrugged and sat up.

  “How about you tell me where all this is coming from Allen. One minute, we’re barely talking, the next, you’re tossing presents at me like I’m a stripper in a club: what gives?”

  Allen took a deep breath, and a step closer to her. “I guess you haven’t noticed since you’ve been so wrapped up in Kareem this past year, but I’ve been waiting for you,” he said gray eyes trained on green with painful honesty. “I realized when I started fantasizing about putting a knife in Kareem’s throat the first night he stayed over here, that my feelings for you were far from platonic. I tried to tell you but…”

  Frances sat up, forgetting that she was wearing nothing but underwear, intent on Allen’s words. He dropped his eyes to his own feet so he could continue.

  “Anyway, so this year has literally been hell for me. Like…literally. I never want to go through something like it again. So when you told me that you and Kareem were finally broken up I decided that I wouldn’t wait even one more day. Maybe give you a chance to hook up with someone else…I can still taste you on my lips you know? That time you kissed me back? I just wanted…” he trailed off, voice cutting off with too much emotion.

  Frances got up, stepping over her heart of roses and came to stand facing him, studying his face intently. To his credit, he kept his eyes on hers, not even straying an inch downwards to her boobs encased only in a bra.

  “So why couldn’t you just say so?” she asked.

  Allen’s breath hitched as he stared at her, hope blooming in his eyes. He studied her face, looking for, she knew not what and then he lurched forward grabbing at her shoulders as his lips came down on hers. He squashed his lips into hers as his fingers dug painfully into her arms. Her own hands came up dislodging his from her shoulders as she hooked them around his neck. His hands dropped to her waist and he wrapped his hands around her bringing her tight against him as he continued to plunder her mouth with his. He lifted her up and walked with her to the bed, laying her on it without so much as moving his lips from hers. His tongue continued its exploration of her mouth even as his hands unhooked her bra and tossed it, and then her panties. She lay beneath him, naked and exposed as his hands touched her everywhere igniting a fire everywhere they landed and causing her to moan with need into his mouth, trying to get him closer. He was still fully dressed in his tuxedo and she detached her lips from his, much to his protests, and pushed him away. His face fell as he thought she was rejecting him.

  “Take off your clothes,” she ordered and he brightened, hastening to comply. He stood up tossing his clothes every which way; jacket and shirt, bow tie and pants and then his under clothes. He was back on the bed with a flump, taking Frances’ breath away with his immediacy and enthusiasm.

  “I love you; you know that right?” he said before plundering her lips again and preventing her reply. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him close to show him that, yes; she knew. He bit her bottom lip like he’d wanted to do all those months ago and then licked a trail down her jaw to her neck and collar bone as his hands took hold of her thighs and pulled them further apart.

  “Want you so much,” he said into the skin of her chest just above her breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking. Frances jerked with the sensation it caused to go shooting down her body and causing her to leak wetness into the sheets.

  “Allen,” she breathed as her own hands found his nipples,
and began to squeeze and fondle them. He made a pained sound of arousal snapping his hips and gripping her thighs so hard there were sure to be bruises there the next day. She rubbed his nipples harder, nipping at his powerful shoulder as she did so and he cried out, hips arching of their own volition. She could feel his hardness against her like a steel band and then his thumb trailed forward, breaching her center and exploring inside, seeking the sensitive nub that needed no further stimulation really. He rubbed back and forth against it and her back arched in response, mouth open, head thrown back.

  “I need you Allen,” she cried. “Now!”

  It was an order he wasn’t ready to refuse.

  “Condom?” he asked desperately, his face red, veins bulging. He didn’t want to leave her to go find his wallet or his bedside table to get one so he was really hoping she kept some close by. The thought of her using condoms with anyone but him though got him hot in a whole other way and he growled deep in his throat. She reached out and opened her bedside table, handing him one. He snatched it out of her hand, tearing savagely at the packaging as she watched in puzzlement and then slipped it on. His hands on her thighs were a bit rougher than they’d been before as he spread them and thrust into her. She made a sound in her throat, half pleasure, half pain and the red haze of jealousy cleared a little for him to see her. His touch gentled and he leaned in to kiss her softly in wordless apology. His movements slowed and deepened as he used every thrust to hit a sensitive spot inside of her. She spread her hands out in surrender, eyes closed as she made noises of satisfaction and surrender. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, she lifted her pelvis to meet thrust for thrust, wanting him as deep inside her as he wanted to go.

  “Frannie Fran Fran my Frances,” he murmured incoherently in her ear as he pushed into her hips, stuttering with need. She pulled at his hair to turn his head so she could fit her lips to his, kissing into his mouth with the same rhythm he was thrusting into her. He groaned with desire.