Regardless, she felt comfortable enough around me to ask me to join her on the dance floor. I reluctantly agreed because the song was a bit too fast for my taste and low level of sobriety, but ended up enjoying myself once the slow dancing begun.
She held me tight as we dance, which made my drunk dick start to swell. The first slow song wasn’t even over when I felt my hard cock press against Kayla’s tight belly. To prevent others from noticing, I held Kayla tighter and tried to slow dance back towards to my chair. The two of us inched closer and closer to the table I was sitting at, but the beeline was ruined by one rogue caterer. The man dropped a tray of champagne flutes on me and Kayla, drenching us almost completely.
The cold beverage effectively shrunk my erection, but Kayla and I both had to go dry off. The two of us head into an unusually empty bathroom and grab as many paper towels as we can to dry as much of each other as we can. Kayla pats down the paper towels on my chest while I do the bottom of her dress.
“Thanks for dancing with me. Sorry, that uh… this happened”, Kayla mumbled.
I looked up and saw her cleavage glistening from the spilled champagne, and her nipples poking out from the now see-through fabric.
“It’s okay. That wasn’t your fault. Damn waiter wasn’t looking. Thanks for letting me be your dance partner”, I offer.
Impossible to say if it was my lowered inhibitions or the unexpected privacy, but something drove me to take a dive and make a complete fool of myself.
“Kayla, I’d dance with you any day. Every day, if you wanted. I like you a lot”, I confess to her.
She smiles and tells me she loves me too with a half-hearted chuckle.
“No, I really like you. A lot. I love you, Kayla.”
Kayla’s smile withers down to a confused expression. “I love you, too”, she says as though she’s asking a question. “You’re my brother now. Of course, I love you.”
Frustrated, I grab her face with both of my hands and plant a long kiss on her lips. My hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders and then wrap around her. I pick her up, leading with my hips, and hold her against the wall pinning her down with my hard cock. I feel her tits pressed up against my chest… but nothing else.
She doesn’t kiss me back and aimlessly grasps for the wall I pinned her on. I let her down and take three steps back from her.
Kayla looks at me and wipes my kiss from her lips with a long run of her forearm. She throws her eyebrows up and looks up at me as she begins to laugh. The laugh starts out confused and quiet but grows to a boisterous, hurtful howl.
“Alright, uh, I’m going to go back out there and pretend I wasn’t just felt up by brother”, she announced as her laughter died down.
We didn’t talk much after that.
The wedding may have been the last time the two of us had any significant interaction that was mutually enjoyable. Shortly afterwards, I moved out with what little money I had made tutoring high schoolers, and did my best to avoid Kayla. I made brief appearances at birthdays and holiday get-togethers, but ultimately kept my distance.
Kayla, on the other hand, refused to stay out of my life. When it benefited her, anyway.
“My car broke down and I don’t want to get ripped off at a repair shop. You know cars, right?”
“Something happened with my bank account and my last paycheck didn’t go through. Could you spot me like $300? I’ll pay you back, I swear!”
And many other excuses to show up at my doorstep.
Here we are now in the same situation. And once again, I have to let her down. My only option is letting her get under my skin again and last time that happened, I embarrassed myself monumentally and spent months in fear that she’d tell someone about what we did.
Part of me wants to help her. The part of me that knows just how much Dad meant to her. The part of me that can hear the desperation in her voice.
But another part of me is the realist. That part of me knows that she’s well aware of how she can manipulate me. That part of me knows that it’s best to stay out of Kayla’s life.
“Can you just buzz me in? It’s cold out here and maybe it’s better if we talk face to face”, Kayla asks.
“Look, I can’t in good conscience recommend you to The Academy. This is purely my professional opinion. I cannot help you, Kayla”, I answer definitively. “Get home safe.”
No response.
A “fuck you”, or “alright” would be infinitely more appreciated than this silence. I love Kayla. In more ways than I can name. I want her in my life. Being able to mentor her professionally would be a dream come true. But there are too many odds against us. Our past. Her inexperience. My feelings.
I finally lift my finger from the intercom button and sit in the emptiness of my apartment wishing Kayla was here with me. Holding me. Relieving this pain.
Chapter Three - Zach
“You can call me more than once a week, you know that, right?”
I can never receive a warm reception from my mom. I could call her every day of the week and she’d pick up the phone asking me why I call her so often. It’s playful, but still needlessly guilt trippy.
“Ma, have you talked to Kayla lately”, I ask her doing my best to prepare for whatever judgy quip she’s going to shoot at me.
“Kayla? I know a Kayla, but surely it’s not the same Kayla you’re talking about”, she starts.
“Come on, Ma”, I groan.
“I have a stepdaughter named Kayla. You used to get along with her but it’s been so long since you’ve even said her name, I figured you forgot she existed”, she continues.
“Alright, Ma, I get it. Have you talked to her?”
She finally pauses. “After the funeral… Maybe once or twice. Why?”
Why, indeed.
“She showed up at my place last night and just wanted to talk”, I tell her. “We did talk, but just for a bit. She was in a bit of a hurry.”
“Wow”, my mom exclaims skeptically. “You didn’t just act like she doesn’t exist, very impressive, hun, look at you.”
“I can hang up right now, Ma. Keep it up”, I threaten in jest. “She seemed… bothered. I just wanted to know if you had noticed that too.”
I can see her sitting back in her rocking chair, shaking her head as she groans into the phone. “Her daddy just died, Zach. You snuck out of her life, I’m on the other side of the country. She’s all alone. I’d be pretty damn bothered, too.”
“People die, Ma. It’s basically what people are best at. And Dad died four months ago already. Don’t you think she should be over it?”
“Zach, when they make it possible to slap people over the phone, please do let me know. Are you human? Her daddy was the only person she knew her whole life. I’m not over it, and we were only married nine years. Let her mourn. And if she shows up at your door again, show some g-dang compassion. She’s your sister, for crying out loud. And now, basically an orphan. I don’t know why you hate her or whatever, but get over it and be her brother. You act like you’ve never let someone’s death affect you.”
Her playful berating ended a while back. She meant what she was saying now. She wanted me to remember the last time someone’s death not only affected me, but destroyed me to the point I couldn’t continue my life the way it was.
Arria Wilkins.
My partner for my first year on the force.
We spent most of that year patrolling some humorously tame streets. Loiterers and jaywalkers were the type of criminals we’d come down on. The two of us largely spent our time getting to know each other and making each other laugh until our shifts were done. But one sorry July night, we came upon first robbery. Completely by accident. Some idiot at a 7/11 was holding up with what Arria thought was a toy pistol, blissfully unaware that there was a patrol car parked outside. She walked into the place, expecting to scare the guy enough to surrender peacefully. Instead, she got two shots in the stomach and one right through her neck. The perp got away. I let him run
right by me as I slid on my knees to hold Arria up from the filthy convenient store floor. She looked up at me, knowing she wasn’t going to make it. And she was terrified. She choked on her blood, whispering one last word muffled by the thick plasma.
“Why…”
Emergency responders hadn’t even finished placing her in their vehicle before I decided I couldn’t experience trauma like that firsthand ever again, and applied to be a teacher at the police academy.
My mom was right. I only knew Arria for less than a year and I thought of her as a lifetime friend. Kayla spent her whole life at her father’s side and is handling his death with more dignity and bravery than I dealt with Arria’s.
“Ma. I’m going to call you back later. Thanks for…”
“Knocking some sense into you from thousands of miles away”, she says finishing my thought.
“Sure.” I end the call and look through my contacts until I reach Kayla’s number.
Pride is something I’ve always been told to set aside to be a better person. Being endlessly prideful is one of my flaws, that I have to overcome right here and right now. My stubbornness and pride will not prevent the daughter of a great police detective from becoming one herself.
“Kayla”, I say with a gulp when I hear her answer the call, “Could you come over tonight?”
Chapter Four - Kayla
Disappointment and surprise are two totally different things.
I was disappointed to have Zach refuse to write me a letter of recommendation. But I was not surprised.
I was surprised, however, when I received his call early today.
Sleep does wonders, I suppose, because in just one night Zach did a complete 180 on his stance. He called me up this morning asking me out to dinner so we could talk more about last night. His unexpected turnaround has me stuck in a loop thinking of the many things that could have caused Zach to change his mind.
He may have realized that the blood of a well-respected and much awarded hero runs through my veins. Or maybe he’s accepted the fact that being mad over a little incident that happened almost three years ago is something that is best thought of as a bygone. After all, that little indiscretion three years back was a mistake on my part. I wanted more of what he gave me. His hatred towards me stems solely from my trying to conform to society’s standards of what’s normal and accepted. I was terrified at the possibility that someone could walk in on us making out and ruin our parents’ reception by announcing the all the wedding guests that the bride and groom’s children were committing incest, even though, that wouldn’t be accurate.
Now, the thought of being caught making out or even going further with Zach is one of my deepest, darkest fantasies.
After discussing the business of me enrolling in the academy, I could steer the conversation towards more pressing matters. We’re both adults now. I’m stronger emotionally. And I’m a hell of a lot more sure of my own mind and what I want. I just need to make Zach see that. Those years ago, I was afraid of how inexperienced I was sexually to ever try anything with him since he was so much older than me. But now I know how to work a man, with more skill than most, I’d say.
I have three hours until Zach picks me up for our dinner. Perfection is a minimum requirement this time around.
In this time, I buy a new dress, get my hair done, and have the dearest Asian ladies from down the street to make my nails match my new red and black dress. Once, I’m back home, I take a look in the mirror and look into the eyes of a transformed woman. My body is held in place perfectly by the dress being pulled to its limits. My panty line is very visible and somewhat distracting. If things go as well as I hope they will, easy access may be beneficial. I remove my panties and stare at the dress taper down my body without a single crease down my ass. My boobs are pushed up, creating some deliciously deep cleavage. The new hairdo is one Zach could hold on to while he takes me from behind. In other words, perfection.
A text chime rings from my purse. I open my phone’s screen and see a message from Zach.
Almost at the restaurant. You there already?
The plan was that we were going to have dinner together. I suppose it was rather presumptuous of me to think that Zach was going to be picking me up. I shouldn't be thinking of this as a date. It may turn into that as the night progresses but as far as Zach is letting on, the two of us are just meeting to talk.
My enthusiasm for our “meeting” begins to deflate slowly as I drive to the restaurant.
It’s very possible that I just spent more money than I should have on a dress that’ll go overlooked. What if he’s waiting for me there in just a t-shirt and cargo shorts? I put way too much thought into this dinner. I always overthink things.
At the restaurant, I find Zach dipping his spoon in a bowl of soup. At least he’s wearing formal casual clothes.
“Holy shit, look at you. You’re all dressed up”, he exclaims carelessly.
It’s official. I over thought this event. He’s over me, and probably has been for over three years.
Chapter Five - Zach
I did not think this dinner through completely.
When I called Kayla to arrange this dinner, I just thought it’d be a casual talk. As I watch her sit down in front of me, I realize that I have missed a grand opportunity to show my interest in her. She put far more effort into what she was wearing. I just grabbed whatever dress shirt was clean and some dress pants.
Not since our parents’ wedding have I seen her wear something so elegant. But instead of the pristine, virginal white, she’s donning a sultry, mature red and black number that fits her like a glove. Everything about her appearance has improved exponentially since I last saw her in person. Sure, she’s worn skimpy outfits before and while they all looked great on her, none of them made her look as good as this dress does.
Even back when my attraction towards Kayla was at its most intense, I can’t recall being as enamoured with her appearance as I am now. Her 18 year old body was supple, tight, and light enough to position her in creative and flexible ways. Her prom dress isn’t in the same ballpark as this red and black dress, and that one was so tight and short that it kept rolling up so that Kayla would end up mooning whoever was behind her, and whoever stood behind her as she walked up some stairs would see the underwear she was wearing, if any. Kayla was never a fan of underwear.
Blood flowing to my loins aside, Kayla clearly wants to make a good impression since this is the first time the two of us have agreed to see each other. Normally, she’s begging for my help, but here we’re both presented with a sort of blank slate and Kayla is setting her best foot forward.
This may just be a ploy, though.
I hate to think the worst of Kayla’s intentions but she has a long track record of abusing my kindness to get what she wants. Prettying herself up more so than usual could be another way of trying to get under my skin. I want to believe that she has the best intentions, but that’s just not being realistic. This is a professional dinner. Kayla made her feelings towards me more than clear when she pushed me away and laughed at my advances. She’s had three years to either apologize or tell me that she feels differently since then and she hasn’t.
The last thing I need is another chance to be humiliated and hurt. I’m keeping a cold front to shield me from any heartbreak.
“So let’s get right down to business”, she demands with a shaky voice. “Am I going to get a letter of recommendation from you?”
I truthfully admit to her that regardless of whether or not I write her a letter of recommendation, that the decision is ultimately not up to me.
“I know that. So what?”
I rub the bridge of my nose and try to explain myself as clearly as I can. “There are some board members that don’t believe that you should apply.”
“That doesn’t make any sense”, she retorts. “How would they know who I am? Or that I was applying? What are you saying, Zach? Is this more bullshit?”
“No bullshi
t”, I state. “These board members are Dad’s friends and they don’t think you should be applying for very obvious reasons. You seem to want to do this just for Dad, and again, that’s not healthy.”
Kayla doesn’t reply. She chokes on some tears and then allows them to flow freely down her face, slowly turning the volume up on her sobs. Some restaurant patrons look in our direction, eager to see some drama, but I do my best and focus on my date-- my sister. Kayla. Her sobs immediately melt the cold emotional shield I had built up to protect myself. I scoot my chair right next to hers and rub her back with one hand.
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 16
