‘Gin and tonic?’ she enquired of Delia, hefting a sparkling cut-glass decanter when she’d set down the tray on the sideboard.
‘Oh, please! I’d love one!’
The thought of that crisp, aromatic taste and the quicksilver punch of the spirit was irresistibly welcome. And when the drink itself came, the mix was perfect: as strong and bracing as Deana might have made when the pair of them had had a bad day.
As it was Delia took it and sank about a third of it immediately – deeply flustered by Jake’s intent stare.
‘You look as though you needed that.’ His own very modest sip seemed to accuse her somehow, and piled on the pressure to confess and be done with it. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me?’ he asked softly, putting his glass to one side and standing up again. From somewhere concealed, Elf had produced a robe for him; not the gossamer-fine silk kimono of the other night, but a fairly plain silver-grey cotton wrap that was in its own way just as seductive. Holding out his arms he allowed it to be slipped around his shoulders, but didn’t bother fastening the sash. As the tension mounted, Delia half expected a robe to be produced for her too, but none was forthcoming. Taking a gin and tonic for herself, Elf retired to a ladder-back chair in the corner of the room, her smooth face devoid of expression.
Now was the moment to confess, of course, to own up to being a twin and a trickster … but before Delia could speak, Jake suddenly seemed distracted. He strolled back across the room towards her, and stared down at some objects that lay on a large occasional table beside her.
Delia had barely noticed the table, and certainly not looked at its contents. But now she followed Jake’s eyeline … and felt her bare skin tingle with goose-bumps.
What she saw there was quite ordinary and familiar. A thick A3 pad of artist’s drawing paper, and beside it a clutch of pencils. They were the sort of soft smudgy pencils that Delia saw every day in her own home: cluttering up the work surfaces, saving places in books, sliding down the sides of armchairs. She’d even seen a certain person stir her coffee with them.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said about being an artist, Dee,’ purred Jake, his voice electric, ‘and I’ve decided I’d like you to draw me … Right now.’ He paused, struck an attitude, then strode over to an opulent cushion-strewn settee and lay down. As he settled he let his long legs part and fall rudely akimbo, and between them his sex stood proud and red and if anything harder than ever.
‘OK … I’m ready,’ he prompted, smiling. Almost laughing.
Oh God! Oh damn! Oh shit! There was nowhere to run to now …
Delia had always reckoned there’d been a supernova in the constellation of Gemini in the fifteen minutes between her birth and her sister’s. It was the only way to account for their different natural talents. Give Deana paper and pencils like those on the table and you’d get a witty character sketch, a sensual male nude, or even a line perfect Tom and Jerry in the space of five minutes.
But with the same materials, Delia was helpless. Even her stick-men were unrecognisable as such. She could write a detailed and incisive work-report. She could make a perfect cheese soufflé and an even better cocktail to wash it down with. She could rewire a plug in under two minutes, and she could even sing well enough to have once considered a musical career … but she couldn’t draw to save her life!
It wasn’t her life that depended on it now, but her hands were shaking as she reached out and picked up a pencil …
It was wicked of him to tease her like this. He knew that, but the process was so entertaining, and so stimulating, that he couldn’t help himself.
‘Well then, Dee … How about it?’ Jake let his hand fall to his prick and he stroked it gently, thus increasing the area of her ‘study’. ‘I’d like to hang your work here.’ He gestured expansively with his free hand, indicating this house that he liked well enough but didn’t consider his home. ‘Or perhaps in my place in Geneva. I’m sure whatever you do, it’ll be the jewel of my collection.’
He was asking for art, but her lovely, scared face was a picture in itself. And her body too. Both told the proverbial story.
Her face was a captivating mix of apprehension, defiance and confused sexual excitement. Her body spoke unequivocably of lust. Hers, so clear in her pink, rosy blush and the superlative hardness of her nipples … And his, in all of him, when he looked at her sex and throbbed with desire. He wanted to come right now, just from the thought that a second woman – one equally and identically alluring – was being brought to him right at this moment.
The Ferraro twins. Doubly beautiful. Doubly intelligent and fiery. Interchangeable and matching in everything – even their strange body-heat – yet entirely and enchantingly different. He wanted to love them and be loved by them together. Have their two slender, hot-sweet bodies entwined and entangled with his. His erotic instincts were acute however, and even though it saddened him, he sensed that they’d find such a ‘twin’ scene abhorrent. They were prepared to play this sexy game of theirs, take turns and share him serially … but to kiss him, suck him and caress him in each other’s presence? No.
That, he realised with wistful longing, was never going to happen. There was no point even opening a dialogue.
But there was still fun to be had with these two feisty, fabulous lookalikes. For him and for them. And as he watched the woman called Delia blush wildly and fumble with a pencil, he thought of her sister too and wondered if with her might lie a chance for something else. Something deeper … More lasting.
‘It’s no good. I can’t do it,’ said Delia, throwing down the pencil.
‘But when we were in the gallery, Dee, you told me you were an artist,’ Jake pointed out, his firm mouth curved into a demon of a grin. ‘Surely I’m not so hideous that I strip you of your skills?’ As he spoke he flexed his limbs again, and if anything made the pose even lewder. His fingertips moved steadily over his penis, caressing it to an even greater hardness.
He was quite, quite beautiful, thought Delia, wishing there were no complications, no games and that she could simply glide across the room, ease her own sex open with her fingertips and slip it down over his. She even wished she could really draw. There’d never be a better sight to record for posterity …
‘I’ve never had the skills,’ she said in a tiny, breathy voice – hoping that if he didn’t quite hear her, the deception might seem less heinous.
‘I beg your pardon?’ The devil-smile widened, and out of the corner of her eye, Delia saw Elf lean forward ever so slightly.
‘I can’t draw! I never could! And I never told you I could!’
He didn’t speak this time; all she got was a questioning lift of his immaculate wing-straight eyebrows.
‘The girl you met in the gallery was my sister, Deana Ferraro. There are two of us. We’re identical twins. Deana and Delia … Now are you satisfied?’
‘Not quite,’ he murmured, his hand still at work on his prick. It was extremely aroused now, hard and almost purple, the tiny eye opening and weeping out its juice. No, he wasn’t satisfied, but he certainly would be soon …
‘Aren’t you going to say anything? Ask me anything?’ she demanded. His erotic calm was unnerving, the slow glide of his fingers perplexing and hypnotic.
‘No. I’ll let you tell me.’ Shuffling slightly on the couch, he reached beneath himself and carefully cradled his balls. ‘Go on, Delia. Let’s hear it all.’ At work on the whole of his genitals now, he let his head fall back against the cushions: his eyes closed, his lips slightly curved, and his long throat stretched taut and gleaming.
It was difficult to convey her account lucidly with a naked man masturbating in front of her, and Delia’s words were a muddle. She was astounded by her own sexual candour, but she still stuttered and stammered and faltered – and wondered what had happened to the clear-voiced woman who gave such hot-shot managerial presentations.
Every now and again she clammed up dead in her tracks; especially when Jake moan
ed, or sighed, or arched his body in pleasure. He seemed supremely expert in teasing himself right to the brink, and on several occasions, Delia was certain that he’d pushed himself over it. That he was going to orgasm, ejaculate, and scream. But every time she stopped, and gaped open-mouthed in awed anticipation, he’d back off within a heartbeat of coming, quite blatantly slow down his handstrokes and breathe deeply to contain his release.
‘Are you listening?’ she snapped suddenly, when he seemed unmoved by her graphic descriptions of her parting from Russell.
Jake’s eyes flicked open, blue and glittery as he slanted her a penetrating glance. ‘Of course,’ he said smoothly, then began an embarrassingly verbatim repeat of that furious farewell screw – his hips shifting slowly and explicitly as he did so.
‘Carry on then, my delicious Delia,’ he said when he’d finished grilling her on the hot coals of shame, ‘complete your story … Tell me how long the two of you thought you could get away with this.’
‘There’s not much more,’ she whispered. ‘I … um … I saw Peter for a while last night, but nothing much happened.’ Those black brows flicked again. ‘And this morning, Deana was still fast asleep when I left. But she was smiling when I looked in on her, so—’ She flashed him an enquiring glance of her own. ‘So I presume she had a pleasant night with you.’
‘I suppose you could say that …’ He chuckled softly, then before she could speak, respond or even really take in what was happening, he pumped his stiff flesh with one, two, three long strokes, and his semen shot out in an arc, flew high into the air, then fell back down onto his body.
‘Although I doubt if the adjective “pleasant” does the experience full justice,’ he resumed, unruffled, when his penis had finished its squirting and his pale silky essence lay in thick, fat drops on his belly. As she watched, ensorcelled, he massaged it into his skin like a cream or a moisturising lotion.
‘But you can ask her yourself, if you’re curious.’ He paused and glanced at a small, but clear-faced clock that stood on the imposing marble mantelshelf. ‘She’s going to be here any moment.’
Swinging his long legs over the side of the sofa, he stood up, his penis swinging gently as he moved and still gleaming with the satin of his juices. ‘So if you need to have an orgasm before she gets here, you’d better get on with it, hadn’t you?’ His smile was soft and taunting as he closed on her, his thin robe winging out on either side of him and concealing nothing. ‘I could help if you like?’
He was right. After seeing what she’d just seen, she desperately needed to come. Somehow, or anyhow … She didn’t care. Her own fingers would do. Or his. Or even those of the delicately skilful Elf, who sat in silence and had taken in everything.
As the thoughts whirled in her mind, Delia also acknowledged the more subtle implications of his words …
He was right again. She didn’t want Deana to see her en flagrante – either at her own hands or his.
Close in everything, she and Deana had always discussed the joys and woes of their sex lives with absolute frankness and honesty. They also saw each other naked and half-naked around the flat.
But what they had always – and unspokenly – rejected out of hand was anything that hinted of a ‘threesome’… One man with the two of them. In their youth, and in the past few days, they’d played their Gemini Game with a full-blooded eroticism and zest, but never, not even once, had they ever had sex with the same man at the same time.
They’d seen the longing for it many times, in the eyes of the men they’d dated. It was there more often than not, and it was in Jake’s eyes right now. But the difference between Jake and others was that he seemed to sense her feelings. To understand that the ménage he wanted couldn’t happen … would never happen. And for that she could almost adore him.
‘Delia?’ he whispered, sliding elegantly to his knees before her, and taking the useless pencil from her nervous fingers. ‘Do you want me to make you come or will you do it yourself? I think you maybe owe me a little show … After the way you’ve tricked me.’
She nodded, acknowledging a sweet, sexual justice. She’d been on the point of masturbating for him in the Jacuzzi, so why not do it now? She and Deana had been trying to deceive him, to fool him. She was in his debt, and she owed him exactly what he wanted. She owed it to him now.
With as much grace as she could summon, Delia opened her thighs and showed him her soft pink furrow, fingering and combing at her lush brown curls to part them for his concentrated study.
Her sex felt hot to the touch, hotter than it had ever felt, her special intrinsic heat set alight by Jake’s sapphire blue gaze. He murmured encouragingly as she unleaved her moist, swollen folds, then revealed her clitoris and the snug, little opening lower down. She was torn between her own need for a quick, hard orgasm, and a repentant desire to please Jake. Always the perfectionist, she tried for both, for sexual artistry; and sliding a finger from her left hand into her vagina, she attacked her aching clitoris with the other.
At the first touch, the pleasure surged and challenged her. She was half mad to come, but this was for Jake. She clenched the whole of her vulva, desperate to control the spasms that were already beginning inside her, twinkling in her deep sexual core and grabbing at the length of the finger embedded within her. Flung up by the long, tense muscles of her thighs, her hips rose high above the seat. Her heels gouged the carpet, and she whined out aloud when other hands joined hers at her crotch.
A spread palm slid beneath her bottom to support her, while another hand curved in to mirror hers, one finger pressed firmly against her anus as if it were trying to slide inside her, and lie parallel to the digit in her sex.
‘Agh! Oh no!’ she cried hoarsely when she realised that her moment was imminent. Her juices were streaming, gushing, bubbling. Flowing out of her vulva and seeping down to lubricate Jake’s efforts. His probing was tender, yet unremitting, and with a swirl of his flexible wrist, he took advantage of the liquid environment and pushed his finger right home inside her.
The feeling of fullness was both beautiful and appalling. Delia squirmed, kicked out and rubbed her own body like fury. Her clitoris felt huge, swollen out from between her slick labia by the force of her pure, violent hunger. She lashed it with her fingertip, then screamed as huge waves of pleasure surged out from the first point of contact, and muscles she’d not known existed clamped down on the fingers within her. Crying and moaning and jerking, she felt Jake lean forward and over her, pressing his tongue into the niche of her navel to seal in the perfection of her climax.
And there, right in the centre of her bliss was a piquant and delicate sensation – the cool, silky swoosh of his soft, straight hair as it slid across her hot jumping belly …
12
Propositions
There won’t be a bruise on her …
Yeah, true, thought Deana adjusting herself cautiously, but why the hell didn’t you say it’d still hurt? Bitch!
Deana mostly went to work in jeans, and sometimes on her bicycle, but this morning both of these were out of the question. She’d tried putting on her Levis but given up; swearing out loud when the rough cloth chafed against her bottom, and astonished not so much by the tenderised rump she’d received, but by the way its soft glow still aroused her. She was drinking her coffee standing up now, because it seemed safest. Her shower had been long and difficult, mainly because she’d had to keep breaking off from washing to touch herself. Time and again, as the water had poured and streamed, her mind had filled with visions. Vida and Jake. The beam, the corset, the paddle … And the unbelievable sensations of a beating.
The only garment she could tolerate below the waist now was a feather-light, layered chiffon skirt, and even that was exquisitely titillating, when worn, of necessity, sans knickers. There were four separate leaves to the skirt, and its colour was a strong, rich plum, but she was convinced that the sun would shine straight through it. A careful observer would see her body-shape easily, or
maybe even the shadow of her pubis. That was if they weren’t already ogling her nipples through the thin, soft stuff of her T-shirt.
Abandoning her coffee mug, Deana tempted fate for about the hundredth time since she’d woken up. Reaching around behind herself, she cupped the cheeks of her bottom and moaned.
Ow! Oh God! How could something so bad feel so good? How could she burn with so much more than just pain? She’d been beaten and exposed, her whole body humiliated, manipulated and shamed. It was so totally weak to feel this way. To crave punishment and the bending of her will. And yet, if Jake were to walk in right now, she’d be completely wet and ready for him, available for both the paddle or his penis.
You’re in big trouble, Deana old love, she told herself seriously. Not only is the Gemini Game not a game any more, but it’s spoiling you for all other men. For all other sex. At least the plainer, more normal sex she’d always been used to.
Throughout her all-young womanhood, Deana had thought herself daring and kinky. But now she knew she was a novice. All the times that Jake had fooled and played and toyed with her, displayed and hurt and humiliated her, all these moments had been the brightest times of her life. Like living in another dimension. A bigger and more vivid existence than she’d ever thought possible.
And the trouble was, now she’d seen a new way, she couldn’t go back.
The temptation to ‘go for it’ was so strong she could taste it, and under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have thought twice. She would have followed wherever Jake led. But there was Delia to consider. Delia who might also want to follow. Delia who was her flesh and blood far more than any normal sister would’ve been.
You want him all to yourself, Deana, don’t you? she demanded of herself. It’s OK to share him with Vida and her ilk, because they’re so like him they almost seem a part of him. But it’s not so straightforward with Delia … She has your face, and your heart, and she’s your greatest rival ever, even if you do love her dearly!
Gemini Heat Page 21
