by Liana Key
"Definitely," I said in a husky voice, "and there will be bonus points for synchronized orgasms." He laughed loudly again, and I made commentary through the whole routine as if we were competing for Olympic gold.
"Cassian Strauss makes entry at a forty five degree angle, causing deep penetration, with maximum points for smooth, controlled thrusts. In fact he attempts an almost ninety five percent reentry without loss of control. That's a degree of difficulty that only the best will attempt." He may have thought I was mad, but he was grinning, and I had to admit I was enjoying myself, I couldn't stop it. "He now angles his partner's leg to near on a ninety, or is that a hundred and ten degree angle? My, the flexibility, is he pushing it through more? A hundred and thirty degrees?" I stopped talking for a moment, only to groan in pleasure as he pushed himself deeper into me. "Oh that's got to be bonus points," I said, my voice tipping with excitement. "The rhythmic grinding, that's perfect unison right there," I said, as our bodies moved together. I could see from his face that he was close. "Strauss needs to steady himself here," I continued, and he gave me a forlorn look. I tried to rally him, encouraging him, singing his praises, though I probably should have just shut up and concentrated on the task at hand. But I realized I was having fun, so much fun, and whether we orgasmed together was unimportant. He was biting at his lower lip, as if it was a way to keep control. He started to move again, and my commentary restarted. "Strauss now builds up for his finale, he's exhibiting superior levels of control...he makes final adjustments and..." He thrust into me, shuddering me to my core, again, again, I couldn't speak, and as he released himself, the now familiar groan was music to my ears as he dropped to his elbows, panting, smiling. "What a spectacular finish," I resumed, "Strauss nails that. The judges are bound to score him high for that performance." He grinned and rolled to the side.
"You're crazy," he said.
I couldn't stop smiling. "The scores are coming through," I said, "yes that's a perfect fuck. Yes, the gold medal goes to...Cassian Strauss." I held his hand up in triumph, applauded, then shook his hand in congratulations.
"I'd like to thank my coach and mentor, Paola Carson," he said, like he was being interviewed, and I was impressed that he was carrying on with my act, "for teaching me everything I know. But I still think there's room for improvement, so I'll continue training as much as I can." I clapped, he kissed me and we laughed and laughed.
I snuggled into him, the feeling of love, of satisfaction so complete. "Can you stay the night?" I whispered. I didn't want him to go, I couldn't bear him to go. "Please. Can you pretend you've stayed at the party?"
"You want me to stay?" He reached over to his phone, checked the time. It was after midnight. I nodded, holding onto him tighter, almost daring him to try to get up and leave me. He started texting. He received a reply. He texted again. Another reply. "Sorted," he said.
"Thank you," I said and we kissed and I delighted in knowing that he would be in my bed all night and tomorrow morning when I woke.
Unfortunately sleeping alone for so long meant that having him physically in my bed was not the joy I had hoped it would be. Normally I would sleep in the middle of my bed, but that couldn't happen. He was on the right side, and that was the side I usually kept my phone, earrings, tissues, so I was forced to the other side and felt like everything was upside down and back to front. I slept quite fitfully, my arm would fling out, only to hit an obstacle - him, and then I'd wake. Then I'd snuggle close, delighting in the closeness, but then he would move and my comfort with it. This aside, I would count waking up next to him as one of life's little pleasures.
I woke before him, used the bathroom, appalled at the blurred make up around my eyes. Never before had I gone to bed without removing it. I quickly washed and splashed my face, and considered reapplying when I heard him move and stretch. I quickly brushed my teeth, my hair, hoping the dawn light would be kind to me. As I hopped back into bed, he hopped out, needing to use the bathroom. I was dismayed to see that the sheets we were sleeping in were not my best crisp Egyptian cotton, but some lemon colored hand me downs from my parents and that the pillowcases were mismatched. Two lemon, one pink and one white. What would he think of my housekeeping skills? I felt embarrassed to say the least. As I plumped up the pillows, I could hear him gargling.
He returned, smiling, and we indulged in some early morning sex, followed by a cuddle. Such small, simple pleasures.
"Isn't this the best?" I said, his arm close around me, my head resting on his chest.
"It is," he replied, "except I have to get up and go to work. Wonder if I could call in sick?"
I lightly punched him. He had a sharp sense of humor and I liked that. I was anticipating the probability of showering together when he jumped up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Seconds later he was back, saying in a quiet voice, "Someone's knocking on the door." I bolted upright in the bed, frowning, my ears straining. There it was, a knock. Who the fuck was it, I looked at my phone, at eight forty? Then my phone started ringing. It was Stefan. I answered it, hearing him say, "I'm at the front door with breakfast."
"I'll be right there," I said, ended the call and whispered to Cassian, "It's Stefan. What the fuck does he want?" I was already in my closet, first grabbing my satin robe, but then seeing my red and pink spotted fleece robe, snatched that and wrapped it round me, tossing the satin one back in. "Stay here," I whispered, probably unnecessarily, he was hardly going to follow me out. At the door I turned back, held my finger up to my lips. He grinned and I wondered if he could detect any panic in my movements.
I unlocked the door, noticing that I hadn't done the security latches last night. How slack of me. I scanned the lounge quickly for any discriminating evidence, thankful now that Cassian hadn't undressed himself. My smile was fake as I greeted my brother and I was dismayed to see him with not only coffee but bagels as well. I was determined not to let him stay long enough to eat them.
"Why are you here so early?" It was quite an abrupt tone and I could see it shocked him.
"Well pleased to see you too," he said dryly, moving into my kitchen without an invitation. He put the food and drinks on the table, saying, "I just went for a run, thought I'd check up on you."
"So you're not suffering a hangover from your dinner party then?" I replied smugly, the smell of the coffee quite tempting. Then, "I hardly need to be checked up on." Perhaps if I accepted the coffee and bagel, I'd get rid of him quicker. I looked down at the cups and he checked the tops and passed me one. I sat down, with a quick glance to make sure the hallway door was closed properly.
"Thought you would have been up," he said, making himself comfortable, tearing open the bag of bagels. I immediately smelt the cream cheese and salmon and my mouth watered. He pushed one in front of me, though I really wasn't the least bit hungry. "Hard to get a park around here," he said, biting into his bagel.
"Oh I think the neighbors had people over last night," I said, thinking of Cassian's car in my spot. "They must have stayed." I pulled my robe tighter around me, the thought of being naked under it and so close to my brother was disturbing. I needed to get rid of him.
"I'm working this morning," I said, sipping on the coffee, looking back around to the hallway. "I can't sit around chatting."
He looked aggrieved. "Hell you don't have to be snappy," he said.
"Well I can't," I defended, "I have to shower and wash my hair, straighten it..." I took a longer sip of my coffee.
"Gareth was keen on you," he said. "He'd really like your number."
"Oh my God," I said, "I do not need a matchmaking service. And I certainly don't appreciate you trying to set me up." I was wondering what Cassian was doing.
Stefan looked at me, then he looked to the hallway door. Then he looked back at me.
"Have you got someone in your room?" he asked.
"What? What are you…? No!" I stuttered, but knowing my face felt like it was burning.
"Why do you keep looking at the door?" h
e challenged.
"I don't, I'm not," I fumbled, "the wind was blowing it earlier." My, how did my brain come up with such lame excuses.
Stefan grinned. "Pao," he said, rising. "Have you got a lover in there? As we speak?" He started to move. I jumped out of my chair, backed up to the door, stood in front of it, trying to block it. Stefan laughed.
"Leave!" I instructed, "just leave Stefan."
"You have a lover in there!" It was a statement now, not a question.
"Go!" I shouted. Surely Cassian had heard me, I prayed he'd moved himself into the bathroom, I pictured him hiding behind the door.
"Why is it a secret?" Stefan asked, still grinning, "why haven't you told anyone?"
"It's nobody's business," I snapped. Damn, I'd just admitted it. This was getting worse by the second.
"Well who is he?" Stefan persisted. "Come on, you can tell me!" He was making fun of me now, thinking his position as my baby brother meant I would disclose the information. I needed to be tough.
"You need to leave now," I directed, "and you need to keep your fucking mouth shut. Do you hear me?" That sounded tough, Stefan seemed taken aback by my swearing. He retreated to the table, picking up his coffee and his keys. I remained steadfast by the door, slightly adjusting my robe opening.
"Okay, I'm leaving," Stefan said, his face a mask, as if I'd stunned him.
"Keep your mouth shut," I warned, adding, "and I'd prefer if you didn't drop by unannounced."
"Okay," he said, with what looked like a look of hurt in his eyes. Had I been too harsh? "I'll see you then." And he jingled his keys and left. When the door clicked, I scuttled out and locked it. I stood outside the hallway trying to regain my composure then went through to the bedroom. Cassian was still lying in the bed, on his phone, he'd obviously made no attempt to hide.
"That didn't sound like it went well," he grinned and he opened up his arms. I fell into him, burying myself in his embrace.
"I'm such an idiot," I moaned. "Such an idiot."
"Don't worry," he said, and he kissed me. "We'll be fine." And I wished I still had that unaffected naivety of my youth.
CASSIAN
I dressed and she went to shower. The mood between us had dissipated and even when I got to work she kept her distance, acted brusquely to everyone, including me. Her brother's knowledge scared her more than she was letting on and she avoided me until closing time, when she ushered me into her office and locked the door.
"I feel like I'm looking over my shoulder," she said. "You didn't see anything suspicious when you left did you?"
I was flabbergasted, "You think he would have sat there and waited till I left?" I asked, thinking that seemed a little far fetched.
She shook her head, "I don't know what to think," she said. She touched my face, stroking my cheek. "I can't bear that anyone finds out." She lightly kissed me. "Go," she directed. She knew I had a tennis match planned for late afternoon.
"You'll be okay?" I asked, kissing her forehead.
She nodded. She went and sat at her desk and I left.
It was several weeks later that I met her brother. He and his girlfriend had booked a table on a Friday night. Paola approached me as soon as I arrived at work and as she dressed me in my vest, her fingers trembled. "He won't be in your section," she advised, "but just be aware. I'm sure he'll be taking in my every movement." I thought that sounded slightly paranoid, but I didn't comment. "I'll stay out of your way," she said, but her fingers lingered as she fixed my collar, and she whispered, "as much as I'm able." She kissed the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my whole spine.
"Well that doesn't really help," I quipped, my hands pulling her into me, making her feel my hardness.
"Nor does that," she smiled, and she tapped my cheek and released herself. "Save it for later, huh?"
It seemed there was a miscommunication and he ended up in my section. By time Paola had noticed, they had already been seated and it would be impolite to make them move. Later, Jenny said he had requested that table, and being the owner's son, no one was going to argue. Paola later berated herself for being away from the action, citing Ivor's inability to understand the difference between "no ice" and "more ice" as the problem.
Stefan was a good looking guy, tall and wiry, athletic looking, dark brown eyes, tidy hair, clean shaven. Paola had told me he played soccer. His partner, Kayla had a short blonde bob, and unusually long slender fingers, I thought. I introduced myself and the menus, pretending I had no idea who he was. I focused my attention on Kayla and she was very responsive, but offered no indication that they knew the menu or ate here regularly. Paola only came to the table when I had left with their orders.
I could see Paola looked stress, it was as if she thought he was checking up on her, and she again put up that tough exterior, at one stage being almost too blunt with me as she brushed past me as I returned to the kitchen.
"Check the drinks on table five," she ordered and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but only nodded and obeyed. Paola had told me not to push the desserts, that she wanted him gone as soon as possible, but I couldn't help myself and thought Eddie would be disappointed if I came back to the kitchen orderless. I tried to persuade Kayla into the Lemoncillo cheesecake, but it was Stefan who took the bait, as I described the velvety smooth texture with the crisp crumble base and the contrasting citrus ricotta that accompanied it.
"I'm salivating at the thought of it," he laughed. "Are you an English major?" I returned a friendly chuckle but ignored his question - he thought I was a college student? I quickly rambled to Kayla about the espresso soaked tiramisu, layered with rum mascarpone and chocolate shavings and drizzled with a delectable chocolate sauce, which I'd actually tried. She went for it, saying I made it sound like a dream and I assured her it was.
When I returned with their orders, the pair were leaning forward as if in a private conversation. I approached cautiously, not wanting to interrupt. They admired the desserts and then Stefan stopped me. "You must be the waiter that Aunt Caroline raves about," he said, and it took me by surprise. I didn't reply, but smiled. "Sounds like she's your biggest fan," he continued. I didn't want to engage any further, Paola would be livid. Even without scanning the room, I could feel her presence, knowing she was watching. The glare on her face when I'd handed over the dessert orders had been like a reprimand.
"She reckons she's put on five pounds since you started working here," he said.
I laughed politely, and I could feel him looking at me intently. I looked up, to where I thought Paola was standing, I was right. Her eyes penetrated.
"Enjoy," I said and moved away swiftly, unsure of why an uneasiness was coming over me.
Later I noticed him talking to Paola at the bar. I wanted to look over, to see her reaction, whether it was just a friendly sibling chat or whether there was fear in her eyes. I suddenly wondered what would happen if word ever got out on her side of the family. What would they think was worse, that she was seeing an employee, or that I was a high school kid? I felt like I needed to protect her, though how I could do that I didn't know. After all, I couldn't even protect my sister. Kayla was left at the table sipping her cappuccino, but she was engrossed with her phone. Without considering any implications I grabbed a plate of biscotti from the kitchen and took it to her.
"Oh I didn't order these," she said.
"They're complimentary," I said and positioned myself so I could watch Paola. "You must always finish with biscotti," I said with a faint Italian accent. "It just completes the meal." I gave a long winded description of the two different flavors. She smiled, but picked up the cranberry and vanilla one. I asked her if she played the piano. Her fingers seemed unnaturally long. She laughed again and started to tell me something. But I didn't hear a word of it. Paola's face showed a false smile, tension around her mouth, fleeting eye movements, like she couldn't look her brother in the eye. Signs she was lying. I wanted to save her, but what could I do. I had no need to go to the bar. Then she
saw me looking at her. She nodded at her brother, who turned to the table. I turned my attention back to Kayla, hearing the words, "hopelessly tuneless." I laughed with her, having no idea at all. I queried on the biscotti's merits and she was full of praise, sure that she'd never eaten quite so much before and would be needing an extra gym session. I disputed that would be necessary, like her fingers, she was tall and slender. I excused myself, just in time it seemed, as Stefan headed back to the table.
They left me a generous tip and Paola joined them both at the door as they departed. I tried to catch her eye, but she ignored me.
PAOLA
Later the same day that Stefan had discovered I had a lover, I had texted him with: apologies for my foul mouth. It really had been out of character, I usually wasn't a swearer, nor so aggressive.
He texted back: accepted, but don't understand the secrecy.
Me: better this way. For now
I thought that sounded quite cryptic, and perhaps it gave him a glimmer of hope that eventually he would learn the truth. Though I had no intention of letting anyone know, ever.
Him: will respect your decision. For now.
The cheeky sod, I thought! But at least we were back on friendly terms. Though I had not been thrilled to see him and Kayla at the restaurant that Friday night. It had been ages since they'd dined in and the sudden dinner date seemed more than a coincidence. I felt under surveillance, though Cassian had insinuated paranoia. I told him he hadn't lived with my brother for twenty or so years. I knew his tricks, his games!
I hated acting the way I did, off-hand and disdainful to Cassian, but it seemed the only way to deal with the situation, set up a facade, pretend he was nobody and pray that Stefan and Kayla would eat up and move on. They had been dating for over three years now, and though I'd not had a lot to do with Kayla she was likable and our conversations were always pleasant, but we would never be close. She was a pharmacist and her recent promotion was a credit to her. Mama was very fond of her, during her cancer battle, Kayla offered so much support with her knowledge of medication and treatment. I may have been slightly jealous of her at that time, as someone who didn't know the difference between aspirin and ibuprofen, but I had gotten over it after Mama's recovery.
