by Fiona Zedde
She walked past the Jacuzzi to one of the three lawn chairs spread out beneath wide umbrellas. The chair took her weight with a slight groan.
“Sit,” she said to Yvette. “Relax.”
“Thanks.”
Although she had been too wrapped up in her own emotions to notice it before, the girl was tense. It mustn’t be too easy for her to dump herself on a virtual stranger. And, abruptly, Rémi remembered it wasn’t so much that she had fallen in love with Dez and her family, it was just that she didn’t want to go back to the hell she knew in Boothbay Harbor. The teenage Rémi hadn’t been able to understand why her mother would even think of leaving their new life in Miami for the cold, possessive love Auguste Bouchard threw at her in Maine. By saying that she wouldn’t leave, Rémi was trying to force a hesitant Kelia to stay. Even back then she hadn’t been able to beg.
“So what’s going on?” She took a sip of her beer. “Since I can’t get rid of you, you might as well tell me why you’re here.” She hoped that whatever Yvette was dealing with in Maine was as simple as longing for her older sister.
“Gee, thanks for the welcome.”
“You’re lucky I don’t just throw you out on your ass. Message on the voicemail or not, I did not invite you stay with me.” Her sister flinched, but Rémi continued. “I’ve been alone for a long time. Don’t expect me to feel warm and fuzzy about you all of a sudden.”
Yvette looked down at the space between her sprawled legs. “I didn’t do anything.”
Rémi got the feeling that was something she always had to say in her own defense. It had the unpleasant ring of familiarity to it. She bit her tongue to stop herself from apologizing. Then.
“I know. I’m just asking what happened. Not blaming.” Rémi swallowed the slightly bitter Mexican beer.
Yvette looked at her, a quick brush of her eyes, before she looked away. When she looked back at Rémi, she was ready.
“I almost forgot that I had a sister until you showed up in Maine last year. Daddy made us all forget you. I couldn’t understand that. I don’t know why it happened or how.”
“I’m a dyke.” Rémi’s casually said words hid the hurt her father’s cruelty caused. But some of the anger burned through.
“That’s stupid. I can’t believe Papa would be like that. It’s not like you killed somebody. You’re his daughter.”
The passionate insistence in Yvette’s voice brought Rémi’s head up sharply. “Don’t tell me that you fuck women too. The rest of the family would just love to blame for me for that.”
“No, I’m not into girls like that. I tried it. Not my style.” Yvette showed her teeth.
Her sister was all bravado and show. Much like Rémi was at nineteen. Still, her eyebrow shot upwards at Yvette’s words. She took another sip of her beer to hide her smile.
Was this why the girl was considered so bad? Because she did and said as she liked? An unfortunate and completely predicable side effect of Auguste’s rigid control was rebellion. Rémi’s eyes flickered over her sister.
Yvette had probably tried every drug known to man and beast. Sex she’d obviously already had. The girl’s body was ridiculously beautiful. She wore it with the careless grace and ease of someone who knew exactly what it was capable of. Her jeans fit her lithesome figure well. The T-shirt showed off her effortlessly toned arms, generous breasts, and flat belly with a slight bump at the navel, which Rémi assumed was some sort of piercing. Yvette had probably completed the parental nightmare with horrendously inappropriate friends. Maybe even a motorcycle gang or two. Kelia hadn’t been prepared for that.
With Rémi’s defection, she’d been spared the worst of it. The five thousand dollars a month allowance she’d kept coming after running back to Maine hadn’t soothed Rémi’s resentment. But with paying for her college education, the condo, and nearly all of her other expenses, Rémi had at least given the appearance of being pacified.
“Sorry about the way things turned out with Mama,” Rémi said. “I can certainly understand all of it. But you can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to be here forever. Like I said before, I’ll be back at Brown in the spring. Right now, I just want to get to know you, not interfere with your life.”
“I see,” Rémi said. And she did.
Later, while she dressed for Gillespie’s, pulling a thin leather belt through the loops of her black slacks, Rémi’s hands paused. Noises floated from downstairs. The television murmuring. Plates gently tapping against each other in the kitchen. It had been a long time since she’d lived with anybody. Years. Not since her mother left. Yvette’s presence served as a distracting reminder of how alone she had been. How completely abandoned by family until Dez had enfolded her into the Nichols clan. Buckling her belt, Rémi strode to the door and firmly closed it on Yvette’s noises.
But it wasn’t as easy to shut the thoughts from her mind.
On the drive to the club, she listened to her messages again, paying particular attention to the one from Elena that she’d been too distracted to listen to earlier. Elena asked her to come in tonight even though Sundays weren’t her usual nights to be there. But needing an excuse to be away from the living memory in her condo, Rémi had just put on her clothes and left without questioning why. On the voicemail, Elena’s usually warm tones sounded brittle, the words carefully uttered as she spoke them quickly into the phone.
She hoped that it was nothing serious. Elena had been her manager since Gillespie’s opened three years ago, and she did an excellent job that helped to make the place what it was now—popular and successful. Her particular brand of sex appeal, fair-mindedness, and hard work made her well liked by nearly everyone at the club.
“Can we talk in your office?” Elena asked as soon as she saw Rémi.
In her black skirt, purple silk shirt, and with her hair neatly pinned at the back of her head, the petite Nicaraguan woman blended in with the club’s stark sensual and old-world décor in a way that immediately identified her as part of Gillespie’s without alienating her from any of the customers she came in contact with.
Rémi nodded. “Sure. Come on up.”
She led Elena through the bustling club preparing for its Sunday night customers, up the stairs and into her office. She sat on the couch and invited her manager to do the same.
“What’s on your mind?”
Elena sat down, smoothed her skirt over her thighs, took a deep breath. Her hands trembled. Up close, without other eyes on her, Elena seemed ready to break down. Tinges of gray had crept under her dark gold skin and the muscles around her eyes were pulled tight. There seemed to a lot on the other woman’s mind, but Rémi waited.
“I’m having some difficulties at home.” She cleared her throat and folded her hands across her knees. “It’s very embarrassing and unfortunate. Believe me, I wouldn’t come to you with this unless it was very bad. I won’t—I can’t.” Elena squeezed her eyes shut and looked down. Shadows crept into the space between her jaw and throat before she looked back up at Rémi and continued. “I want to keep my job, but I need to stay at home and take care of some things for a while.”
In the years they had worked together, Elena had never asked Rémi for any favors. She did her job well, never brought drama to the club, and remained absolutely professional in her dealings with everyone at Gillespie’s. There must be something very serious going on at home if she was asking this now. And Rémi was willing to support her through it without asking the very private woman to reveal her obviously personal business.
“That’s no problem. I’m sure we can take care of things here while you’re gone. How long do you need?”
Elena’s lashes flickered down then back up again. “A month. Maybe two.”
Her eyes widened. That was much longer than she’d expected. But.... “Try to make it as close to one month as possible. Okay?”
Elena shook with relief. “Okay.” A trembling sigh. “Okay.”
“I
’m assuming that you want to take your leave as soon as possible, so just take the rest of the evening and tomorrow to tell me everything I need to know to do your job while you’re gone. If it gets too much, I’ll hire someone temporarily, but I don’t really see that happening.”
“Thank you so much, Rémi.” Elena’s hands reached out toward Rémi, then pulled back to settle back in her lap. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
“No regrets, Elena. Just do what you need to and come back to us. Soon.”
When Elena left to get some paperwork and her schedule, Rémi leaned back in her chair, suddenly ridiculously glad for something substantial to occupy her while Yvette stayed with her. Things perhaps wouldn’t be so bad after all.
But the rest of the night proved her wrong.
While her manager, between running downstairs to take care of minor emergencies, carefully explained to Rémi the things she needed to do in order to make the club run smoothly while she was gone, her mind wandered. It flitted. To Yvette’s presence in her condo. The betrayal she’d felt when her mother chose Auguste over her. Claudia’s changing role in her life. And what she stood to lose if things with Claudia didn’t work out.
I can’t do this, Rémi thought. I shouldn’t.
She had to leave Claudia alone. The older woman and Dez were the only family she had left in her life. It would be stupid to fuck that up.
Her hand jerked against the desk, spilling Elena’s precariously stacked pile of lists and spreadsheets. Papers fluttered from the desk to dark floor.
“Sorry about that.” Rémi mentally cursed herself, moved from behind the desk to squat on the floor and picked up the scattered papers.
Elena’s eyes, softer with their lessened tension, looked at her with concern. But she knew better than to ask.
Rémi smiled at her in gratitude and stood up. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”
She didn’t end up leaving the club until well after closing time, six o’clock in the morning and the sky a blushing shade of gray. Feeling tired to her very bones, Rémi climbed into the truck and set herself on autopilot, heading for home. She wearily massaged the back of her neck. Before her, the road stretched, graphite and empty, a soothing counterpoint to the evening of never-ending smiles to be returned, handshakes to be given, needs to be met. Outside her windows, the Miami skyline was soft and dim. Colors on mute, as if she had stepped into a black-and-white photograph. Even the air smelled dull, cool with a hint of the sea’s salty tang as it waited for the sun to rise and make it hot again.
The cell phone rang, jolting Rémi from her stupor. She blinked at the unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Somehow I knew you’d be up this time of day.”
The laughing voice and accent meant one of three women. Three very delightful women. Despite her tiredness, Rémi smiled.
“Nakamura-san. A pleasure to hear you.”
Chance—it had to be her—laughed again. “You are good. Letta, Matsuko, and I just got back in town. We’d love to see you.”
“And I’d love to see you.” Rémi’s mind flitted briefly to Claudia.
“Oh, good. We were hoping you’d say that.”
The sound of animated chatter came at Rémi from the background. A deep-throated laugh. “Can you come by this morning for a bite to eat?”
Rémi’s neck popped as she stretched, its muscles protesting over her long night hunched over the desk. “I can come over now for sleep and a bite after. Right now I’m useless for anything but.”
“We can take that.” Then her voice muffled as if she put her hand over the mouthpiece before a flurry of Italian came out, all too fast for Rémi to catch. “That will be absolutely fine. Let me give you the address of our hotel.”
At a red light, Rémi took down the information then continued down Collins heading to the Bal Harbour Beach Sheraton. The last time she had been with the Nakamura sisters, they showed her such a good time that she slept dreamlessly for nearly two full days after. Their charms were certainly not for one lacking in stamina.
“Oh, you look wonderful,” Chance Nakamura said when she answered Rémi’s knock. In a thin robe that barely covered the top of her thighs, she posed in the doorway, giving Rémi a chance to appreciate her long legs and ready breasts pushing against the cotton, before leaning forward to offer a tight hug. Her short pixie haircut was wet with water, and she smelled like orange juice. “Come in, bella.”
“We’ve been waiting for you.” Behind her, an exact replica minus the robe but with long hair draped over her otherwise bare breasts, lay across the already rumpled sheets. “But we’ll wait even longer since we know that you’re tired.”
“That’s admirable of you.” Rémi couldn’t tell if this was Nicoletta or Matsuko. The two women wore their hair the same with the only physical difference between the sisters being that Matsuko’s clit was pierced. She kicked off her boots at the door and smiled down into Chance’s eyes. “Give me an hour or two of good rest, and then you can do whatever you want with me.”
“Really?” The last triplet walked in from the balcony wearing a bathing suit. She looked as sleek as an otter in her one-piece tank and with her hair plastered to her scalp and back. “The last time you were the one with the reins.” She closed the sliding glass door and walked toward Rémi, leaving wet footprints in the carpet. “We liked that.”
With palms against Rémi’s belly, she leaned in, the smell of chlorine and her lips hovering close. She rose up on tiptoes to kiss Rémi on one cheek, then the other. “Come in. Rest.”
At Rémi’s questioning look, she pressed Rémi’s hand between her legs. Rémi smiled at her tiredly. “Good to see you again, Matsuko.”
The woman laughed. On the bed, Nicoletta moved closer when Rémi lay down. “Hello, darling,” she whispered in her melodious accent, compact body sprawling across Rémi’s clothed one to cling like a succulent limpet. But Rémi was already falling asleep.
She woke up to sucking. A deep groan pulled her out of a dream and dropped her heavily in the midst of three very hungry women. Only when her eyes fluttered open and she registered the hot mouths on her breasts and on her pussy, did Rémi realize the groan was her own. Naked. She lay naked against white sheets while the three terracotta women—sex goddesses with upturned asses, mouths that licked, sucked wickedly at her nipples and clit, churned her body to hot liquid. She slid her hands into Letta’s long hair while the woman nibbled at her breast, nipping at the skin with sharp teeth until Rémi sighed in the bed, brought to awareness by the pain. Across from her, Matsuko played a gentler game, sucking the hard nipple into her mouth and agitating it with her tongue.
Despite the strangeness of it, three sisters who liked to fuck together, Rémi had always enjoyed her encounters with the Nakamura women. In sex, they never touched each other, preferring instead to wait their turn when it came to getting access to Rémi’s body, or latching onto their favored part of her (or second favorite) until the other sister was finished. They shared their sex with true pleasure, laughing, teasing, and baring their delicious bodies with an innocence Rémi found refreshing.
Chance crouched between her thighs. She’d recognize that wicked mouth anywhere. It completely covered Rémi’s pussy in heat, sucking on her clit. Her tongue diving into Rémi’s pussy that had gotten wet in sleep and now throbbed, swelled, wept to feel these beautiful women, their mouths bringing heated pleasure. The sleep gradually fell away until she was aware enough to begin feeling her way to satisfaction. Her hands reaching out for twin bushy mounds, seeking between swollen and sticky lips to find clits and slits attached to women attached to her, who writhed against the sheets as she fucked them lazily with her fingers.
They moaned against her breasts, their voices, rising and falling, a chorus of sex, their pussies moving against her hands, swallowing her fingers that skimmed and dove in their foamy salt seas. Breaths catching, moans rising, Chance between her legs eating her pussy with groaning enthusias
m, her ass wiggling in the air. Fucking the air. The sight of her heart-shaped ass, its pale curve kissed by the sun peeking through the windows, sent Rémi diving gratefully off the edge. She clenched her teeth over a harsh groan, hips jerking against Chance’s face.
One of the women came. Maybe it was all three. But Chance sat up, wiping her chin.
“I brought toys,” she purred.
It was sublimely mindless. Rémi buried herself in the act of fucking, taking what the women offered, obliterating her exhaustion for something better. Perfect shining awareness of her body as an instrument, even as she strapped the thick red dick to her hips and Nicoletta bent over in the bed on hands and knees, pink tongue licking her own lips in anticipation of Rémi’s touch. And Rémi gave that touch. Pussy glistening and open, petulant lips that Letta reached back to spread and pinch.
And the red dick sank in, nuzzled against Rémi’s clit, and she was gone. Up to her eyeballs in pleasure and groaning as if her soul were pouring out into the women under her. First Nicoletta, then Matsuko, slamming into hungry cunts that foamed and clutched around her intrusion. When it was Chance’s turn, she insisted on fucking face first, looking into Rémi’s eyes. She sat on the marble-topped sofa table, legs spread, back against the wall, waiting with thickening pussy lips until Rémi lifted her, grasped the firm globes of her ass, and thrust the dick deep into her already soaking pussy, a hand flat against the wall behind Chance’s head, fucking until their sweat ran together like two rivers intent on being one.
Behind them, Rémi was dimly aware of Nicoletta and Matsuko watching and touching themselves, separate but joined together in pleasure. She felt their gaze on her naked back, on the bunch and release of her ass muscles as she fucked their oldest sister, the slam! slam! slam! of the table against the wall. Chance’s gasping shouts. Screaming Rémi’s name punctuated with inciting words in Italian—Faster ! Yes! More! Harder! Do it!—that made Rémi want to keep fucking her forever. Chance was great for her ego. In the midst of the pleasure ravaging in her belly, Rémi laughed.