Twisted

by Lola Smirnova

  I almost fall off my chair and turn to my sister with big surprise in my eyes. She smiles at me and winks, indicating that I must not worry and just follow her lead.

  Fernando grins in anticipation and juicily tongues his lips. At the same time, Paulo suspects there is something wrong and starts shaking his head, manifesting his doubt about her sudden go-ahead. Lena smirks confidently, steps closer to Paulo, pressing her breasts against his arm, and purrs into his ear, ‘Tak-tak … demi-bouteille ... okay.’ Then, after a tasty pause that is filled with Paulo’s mistrust and suspicion, continues, ‘Apres … changer … tak-tak4’ followed by gestures that without a doubt mean that my sister is insane. Besides, she promises them sex in the semi-private lounge, which we can’t do; on top of that, she suggests that we swap partners at some stage!

  You should see their faces! As soon as the images of Lena’s tale swallow up their minds, all reason and common sense desert even Paulo.

  They quickly swipe their cards and a few minutes later we are hugging on the two couches, not far from each other – me with Fernando and Lena with Paulo.

  If the lounge area wasn’t dimmed out to the extent that over the distance of a meter we couldn’t really see each other, we would look like two couples who are madly in love, with chilled bottles of champagne in ice buckets, in full readiness for the half an hour of lust that Lena has promised the men.

  Fernando starts kissing me, intensely pushing in his tongue and greedily smashing against my body as if there is no tomorrow. I let him do it, but respond by moving as frigidly as I can, trying to keep the moment at which he eventually decides to drop his pants as far away as possible. At the same time, my crazy sister moans excessively and passionately, ‘Oh, mon amour5,’ making it extremely difficult to keep the fellow cool.

  What is wrong with you, Lena?! Why can’t you just shut up?! I am so angry that all I want right now is to get up and smack her in the head!

  After ten minutes of impulsive foreplay, and a few seconds before it’s too late, Lena exclaims, ‘Non! Tres chaud! Tres chaud! Changer!6’

  The guys priggishly smile at each other in a fever of excitement and let us swap places. And we start our foreplay all over again, but this time me with Paulo, and Lena with Fernando, wasting the precious half an hour. When the next ten minutes are finished, Lena pushes Fernando away, angrily looks at Paulo and me, and clamours, ‘Jaloux! Tres jaloux. Mon amour! Changer! Changer!7’ We swap again and waste the last ten minutes the same way. Precisely half an hour later, my sister pushes her amour away and stiffly proposes that the men buy another bottle, because, ‘Ooopsy!’, their time is up.

  Obviously, they can’t afford another session. A wave of annoyance coats the dialogue in which they most probably share the realisation that they have just been fooled. To avoid complaints, Lena takes Paulo’s phone number and promises to go on a date with him, which is as generous and fake as the offer she made them half an hour ago.

  Our hot dates leave the club with a disappointment that they overlay with miserly smiles, thinking about the possibility of seeing my sister outside the club.

  Trust me, Lena gives me an even bigger shock than the one our not-so-bright-clients just received! I would never have imagined that she was capable of something like that …

  A few days later, Natalia bowls me over with her working style as well, putting me in the same stupor as my middle sister had. I see her chatting to the guy at the bar, as if they’ve been friends for some time already, and finishing the second piccolo. Then she waves to me. I approach. She introduces us and asks if he wouldn’t mind me joining them. His name is J.P., which is short for Jean-Paul or Jean-Pierre; I don’t remember exactly. He happens to be a friendly and compliant guy, who, without hesitating, asks the barman to open a piccolo for me too.

  As soon as we finish our first toast of the new acquaintance, and have a little chit-chat about the shared resemblances of and the differences between us three sisters, Natalia hugs J.P., putting her head on his shoulder while wrapping him in a playfully seductive look. She asks, ‘Do you think you want to do it?’

  J.P. blushes and awkwardly looks away, but Natalia tightens her hug and continues in the same manner, ‘Hey, baby, you must stop with your endless modesty and use this opportunity, though that red colour looks very cute on your face. Let’s do it! You will never have another two sisters who are as beautiful and as devoted, and who are ready to jump into your fantasy world and make it really ...’ she pauses, widens her smile and then finishes, ‘... really special for you.’ I have no clue what Natalia is talking about but I keep smiling and nodding my head, showing that I am one hundred per cent in. This time he looks at both of us and says, ‘I want to do it, but let’s have a few more drinks first.’

  Natalia smiles, ‘Sure.’ I nod again. We order more champagne for ourselves and a double whisky for J.P.

  The alcohol is doing its job. Less than an hour later, J.P. stops blushing and even starts telling us some dirty jokes. At the same time, he becomes so confident, or I would say so drunk, that he puts his hand under my skirt and softly but possessively smashes my ass underneath it, while whispering something flirtatious into Natalia’s ear.

  Another few double whiskies later, J.P. stands up and drunkenly babbles something indistinct but apparently very clear to my sister, because she jumps off her stool too and pulls him upstairs. While he is unsteadily swiping his credit card, I try to slip away to the bathroom, but get caught by Natalia, who whispers, ‘Don’t go anywhere, we’ll need it in a few minutes’. And before I manage to put two and two together and realise what we’re about to do, she drags us both into the room.

  In Natalia’s words, my role for the next hour is very simple. I am supposed to pee in J.P.’s mouth while he is getting a blowjob from my sister. She explains this in a way that sounds like she has just asked me to go to the shop and get a baguette for breakfast, nothing more!

  We start with the ordinary threesome foreplay, kissing and undressing each other. I keep swilling down one glass after another in between the caressing and smooching, trying to accept the inevitable and help out my bladder. Some time later, Natalia slips down onto her knees and starts sucking him. I take my shoes off and climb on the couch, standing with my legs wide open so that J.P. is positioned right between them with my pussy on his face. He drops his head on the back of the couch and opens his mouth in readiness to consume. Everything is set for J.P.’s fantasy incarnation but my bladder.

  … oh my fuck, I actually cannot do it!

  Have you ever tried to pee into a man’s mouth, standing naked on the couch while your sister is sucking his balls and watching you do it? My brain cannot agree with where I have chosen to empty my bladder, and refuses to send the signal to my urinary tract!

  After a battle of some time, I eventually manage to relieve myself and water my new friend with my warm excretion. Our wishful thinker swallows it, instantly ejaculates and falls asleep.

  ‘Here we are,’ my sister comments without surprise, ‘every time the same story!’

  Natalia explains that we are not going to wake him up until the hour is over. We just sit there naked, next to our zonked-out sleeping beauty, drinking champagne and quietly talking about everyday stuff.

  It probably looks insanely peaceful from the outside …

  As soon as the hour is finished, Natalia wakes him up and starts to tear him into pieces. ‘Baby, how could you do that to us! Two horny sisters, and you, selfish animal, just fell asleep on us! Now, you owe us both a great orgasm at the same time … Let’s take another bottle and do it!’

  To my big surprise, the man, half-drunk, half-asleep, nods guiltily and reaches for his wallet. Natalia goes to call the waiter to swipe the card, while I cover his naked body with his shirt. The manager shows up in a few seconds with the card machine and another two bottles. The payment goes through and we are left in the room alone again.

  J.P. looks wide awake and ready for the action to resume. But after anoth
er glass of bubbly he passes out again during a super-passionate kiss with Natalia. We let him sleep. Another hour later, Natalia wakes him up. She is fibbing that he was incomparably good and that whatever he did to us was the best experience we’d ever had. He smiles and nods with absolutely misplaced complacency, then lets us make him drink some coffee and send him home with €1,500 less in his bank account.

  Without a doubt, what I witness shakes me up, but also kind of makes me feel proud of my sisters. It is clear that they have been polishing this craft – trying to understand what the client wants, to discover his weaknesses and use them to get control over the situation, and to make him pay. Even though I have no idea how to do all that, I definitely know that I can master it with time – if I will use my pussy together with my brain …

  11

  About a week after Lena’s devoid-of-compassion tutorial and Natalia’s fetishistic assignment, I also had a shift that would turn any of the girls green with envy – I made €400 in one night.

  What’s more, for the first time in my life I experienced an orgy. The wild gathering consisted of four participants: two clients, me and another of my colleagues, who, as it turned out later, used to be a man. Also, there was a lot of champagne, magic white powder, and at least two dozen condoms, which the garçon was shyly but desperately borrowing from the other girls around the club when ours ran out.

  Nobody in the room knew that there was a transsexual among us until the last hour of the night …

  Her name was Claudia – by passport, Murat Kaya, Turkish citizen, 23 years old. A beautiful, intelligent and very feminine woman; no wonder none of us, for the whole night of our promiscuity, noticed anything abnormal. She, or at that stage he, was born in a small town somewhere in Eastern Anatolia, and by the age of twelve had already realised that nature had made a cruel mistake … He was a woman in a man’s body.

  Of course, Murat never shared his thoughts and feelings, not even with his family. He secretly gathered information and quickly learnt that there were many people like him all over the world. And even though his hometown was not the best place to live with such a ‘malformation’, at least the boy knew he was not alone. As soon as Murat turned eighteen, he received a passport. He headed to Istanbul, and then moved to Europe, where his problem had a solution – even though this involved a series of expensive tests and surgeries. After a few years of hard work and savings, he could eventually afford the transformation from an unhappy fellow full of complexes to an attractive and confident woman.

  Everything was working out well for Claudia, except for the legalities. By Turkish law she couldn’t change her gender and acquire a new identity. Moreover, as the holder of a passport in the name of Murat, she couldn’t go back home and visit her family, because as soon as she reached the Turkish border she would be detained and forced to serve military duty – regardless of her long, blond hair and magnificent D cup under her sweater …

  Anyway, as moving as this story is, it’s not the one I want to tell you …

  My off-the-wall night starts when the two fellows, my future orgy team, walk into the club at the beginning of the shift. They’re already remarkably tipsy. I’m sitting at the bar right at the spot where they land for their first drink. I greet them with a wide smile, ‘Hello guys! How are you?’

  One of them turns and looks at me like I’m some importunate nuisance, pulls an arrogant face and turns back to his friend, talking and laughing. I angrily kill the remains of my cigarette in the ashtray, throw in a half-voiced ‘!8’ and leave the rude twosome. I’ve got a show to dance in less than twenty minutes, so I need to go upstairs to my room to get changed into my show-garb of a nurse with a heart-shaped stethoscope.

  My music starts and I step onto the stage. The guy who just turned me down so meanly notices me, and interrupts the girl who is trying to hook up with him, in the same cocky way as he did with me just a few minutes ago. He gets up from the table where his friend is already talking to Claudia, and, spellbound, moves towards the stage saying something I can’t hear. But I can read his lips: ‘Wow! She is hot!’

  Through my whole performance, he stares at me as if I were Salma Hayek who had come down from Hollywood, and as if it was his lifelong dream to meet me, I mean her, from the moment he’d first watched the legendary From Dusk till Dawn.

  What an idiot! A few minutes ago he didn’t find me attractive and now look at him! He is drooling all over the place!

  I haven’t even changed back into my dress after the show when the garçon knocks on the door of my room and tells me that two customers are settled in séparé number three – the biggest private room in the club – waiting for me.

  I hurriedly fix my make-up, spray some perfume and rush down the stairs.

  There are two big couches in the room that face each other. They are separated by a considerably big wooden coffee table, which is already decorated with two shiny buckets full of ice, a golden bottle’s neck sticking out of each of them. One couch is occupied by my new admirer, who is looking at me with pure adoration in his eyes. On the other one is Claudia with the second guy. Those two are so busy kissing and caressing each other that they haven’t even noticed me walking in.

  ‘My name is Chris,’ my new bad-mannered friend tells me while filling my glass to the top, ‘and I must tell you it’s a beautiful show you did down there …’ I thank him and nervously swallow the bubbly.

  The idea of us sharing the room is making me uncomfortable. I am desperately looking for the right words in my head to convince him to relocate to another séparé.

  ‘Chris, would you like …?’ Before I can finish, he leans towards me, pushing me to lie down.

  ‘Oh yes, Julia, I would like …’ and he starts covering my body with clumsy kisses while pulling my little strapless red dress down to the floor. And as I turn away to let him wet my neck rather than my mouth, I see naked Claudia rhythmically moving on the top of the also already undressed friend of Chris.

  Okay. I get it … we are not going to move to another room …

  For some time, we just intensively hump in front of each other; it feels absolutely insane to be watched while having sex and eyeing the other couple doing the same in front of you.

  By the time we’re onto bottle number three, a few hours later, all four of us have ended up on one couch, creating an agglomeration of human bodies that is moving wildly and making sluttish noises.

  I start getting used to the weirdness until the garçon, who enters the room in the middle of our action to bring more champagne, ice or condoms, takes me right back to the point at which I’m shocked by witnessing and experiencing all of this …

  Another few hours, and absolutely nothing feels strange to me anymore. We’re so stoned that I hardly know where I am and what I am doing …

  We drink, sniff and fuck, regularly changing positions and locations.

  For the last few hours of our explicit freestyle race, we are incapable of doing anything more than just lying naked on the couches, staring at the ceiling, smoking, talking crap and laughing like we are 13 years old again, spending the night in summer camp. It is now that Claudia shares her story with us. The guys are so drunk that they are moved almost to tears, ignoring the fact that they just did all sorts of things that straight men would never voluntarily go through.

  That night, we opened more than 16 bottles of champagne, and drank most of them. I didn’t even remember how I got to my bed.

  12

  Ow … that hurts!

  I try to open my eyes and understand what woke me up. Natalia is in my room, walking around, picking my clothes up off the floor while talking to me. Despite the time – already about 5 p.m. – her every word feels like a hammer against my head. I quickly shut my eyes again.

  What the hell is she doing here?

  Apparently, the fact that I am incapable of doing any kind of activity, including having a conversation, is obvious only to me.

  When I finally turn my brains on and
understand what she is talking about, I can’t believe my ears. She has actually come to lecture me about my alcohol and drug use and how much damage it can cause to my life and health!

  Seriously?

  She refuses to notice when I turn away, covering my head with the blanket in irritation. She just goes on and on about the risks to my future wellness. Then, she ignores my ‘Please Nata, not now, my head will explode!’ and jumps in, dressing me down in her favorite soapbox manner about how I should avoid drinking to excess and enumerating the ways in which we can fool the customers.

  ‘Where is your wooden stick?’

  Her tone is driving me mad. She is standing in front of me with my work purse open.

  ‘Jul? Answer me. Where is it?’

  I moan.

  ‘I can see lipstick, condoms and chewing gum. Where is the fucking wooden stick I gave you?’

  I can’t believe it; she’s actually raising her voice at me.

  ‘I am not using the stupid stick. Leave me alone.’ My voice is hoarse from smoking too much last night.

  ‘Why not?’ she exclaims with fury. ‘You know it helps to stay sober!’

  I remember the day we arrived. She’d given me this wooden stick with a star-like tip, calling it a ‘magic wand’. It came with a half-hour lecture on why we need to use it.

  Apparently, if you stir the champagne in your glass with this stick, it goes flat faster. ‘It’s not a secret that the fizz speeds up the absorption of the alcohol into your bloodstream. This is a killer for us, Jul. So, all you have to do is stir it a few times,’ she’d said, trying to appeal to my common sense.

  ‘What is the point, sister? The fun is in getting drunk. Why delay it?’ I’d jokingly answered, knowing that as soon as she left the room I would throw this piece of magic into the garbage. Seriously, how else am I supposed to deal with doing this crazy job every day? I’m not Miss Perfect like you, Nata ...