We’d shown up at the restaurant, and I was already self-conscious, trying to pull my skirt down, the wind drafty and cool between my inner thighs. God, this was awkward. But my feeling of impending disaster deepened when I actually met Saxon and Stryke.
They’d stood up with their dad when we arrived, and looked nothing like their father. Whereas Dr. Jones was average, a nerdy-looking guy, Saxon and Stryke were twin gods. Charcoal black hair, so dark that it absorbed light, plus penetrating blue eyes set in masculine faces, their features rugged and handsome. We’d shaken hands awkwardly, their eyes deceptively neutral although I’d felt the boys skim my body the moment we approached the table.
“So Saxon, Stryke,” said my mom at lunch. “Where are you guys headed after graduation?” Evidently, they were seniors as well, at some prep school in LA.
“We’ll probably go to USC or UCLA,” rumbled Stryke, his blue eyes clear and sharp. “We’re really into movie-making and both schools have great film programs.”
“Oh right,” said my mom, “Didn’t George Lucas go to USC?”
“Yep,” rumbled Saxon, “as did Ron Howard, Judd Apatow, and a slew of famous directors and producers,” he said.
I’d been too shy to add much to the conversation, but in a small voice, I said, “Peter Rainier went to USC.”
Both of my soon-to-be brothers turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry, who?” said Saxon smoothly.
It was hard to concentrate, having two pairs of intense blue beams focused on me, the twins so handsome, large and imposing in their suits. But I continued.
“Peter Rainier’s a movie critic,” I said. “I read his reviews in Rolling Stone all the time, and I think cultural critics really add a lot to film,” I added hesitantly. “I mean, who doesn’t check IMDb or Rotten Tomatoes before buying a movie ticket now?”
I smiled at my brothers as they nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, that’s true,” said Saxon. “Why, are you thinking about being a movie critic?”
“Oh no,” I blushed furiously. “I’d love to do something related to writing, maybe editing or fact-checking, but I’m too low-key to be the actual star of the show.”
Both my brothers nodded slowly, eyeing me with renewed respect.
“Well if you’re into editing, you might want to check out Cinaeaste or Modern Review,” suggested Stryke. “Both are trade pubs and have a lot of helpful articles about breaking in as an editorial assistant.”
Hmmm, so my brothers weren’t just gorgeous, they had brains too. They were headed off into Hollywood, a notoriously competitive arena, but weren’t going to try and cash in on their good looks. Instead, it seemed they more interested in writing / producing / directing, and had already begun to research the industry. Very interesting.
And the rest of the lunch went really well, typical boring chit chat getting-to-know-you type stuff, until the very end. We got up to go, my mom leaning over to give Dr. Jones a kiss goodbye, when Saxon turned to me.
“By the way Melanie,” he murmured. “Your skirt’s tucked into your panties.”
I looked down. Oh my god! When I’d come back from the bathroom, I must not have pulled my skirt down all the way, and now the flimsy pink material was tucked into my little g-string, revealing my bare ass cheeks, the strip of lace covering absolutely zero. Even more embarrassing, that lace was darkened with moisture, testament to my heightened arousal around these gorgeous men. Flushed, I hurriedly pulled the material down, trying to cover as much skin as possible.
“Try to wear a longer skirt next time, hmm?” mused Saxon, eyeing me suggestively.
And before I’d even realized what had happened, Stryke swiped a big palm across my ass, my skin burning as he touched me, that large hand warm and hard. Oh my god, wtf? Had my new brother just copped a feel in the middle of a restaurant? Stryke’s face was expressionless, calmly neutral, although there was a gleam in his eye.
And just when I was about to believe it was my imagination, Saxon reached between my legs, and lightly tapped the moistness at the crotch of my panties.
“Oh!” I gasped. I wanted to be outraged, scandalized at their bold moves. But it had felt so good, those warm fingers brushing against my secret space, niggling my clit for just a minute before touching my wetness.
And Saxon brought his hand to his lips for a second, tasting a bit, sniffing, before smiling at me.
“Aromatic and sweet, just the way we like it,” he murmured appreciatively.
I was now absolutely floored, but fortunately saved by my mom’s clucking.
“Boys, it was so nice meeting you, and we’ll see you at the wedding okay?” chirped Noreen. “I’m glad we finally got to get together,” she smiled. Oh my god, what would my mom do if she knew that my stepbrothers had just fondled me intimately, testing my pussy and behind? Would the wedding still be on?
But I decided not to find out. I was headed to college on the East Coast and my brothers would be on the West. So I smiled politely, my eyes large and my cunny wet, murmuring goodbye to my new steps, relieved yet tantalized at the scandalous meeting.
CHAPTER TWO
Melanie
Mom and Sam got married in a small ceremony at the hospital chapel. It was really sweet, just the four of us, my mom, my new dad, the pastor, and me as the witness. I have to admit – I was kind of relieved that Saxon and Stryke hadn’t been able to make it. It was finals week at their high school, and their mom wouldn’t let them take any time off from studying. Guess there was no love lost between Sam and his ex-wife.
The wedding was sweet, simple and straightforward. My mom and stepdad hadn’t wanted a huge shindig because it was the second marriage for both, so low key and low profile were the way to go. And my mom’s quality of life was about to improve – I was finally off to college and Noreen was free to enjoy her golden years with her new husband.
But unexpectedly, I got a call from Mom in the middle of the day, when she normally would have been at work.
“Melly, Sam’s been called to Afghanistan,” Noreen sobbed.
“What?” I gasped. How was this possible? Sam was a doctor, and sure, they needed doctors in Afghanistan, but he was at least fifty. Did they ship men in their later years off to war zones? How had they gotten his name and number anyways?
My mom sighed.
“Sam’s been in the Army reserves ever since he finished active duty,” she said. “Active duty was thirty years ago, but you know how he’s so patriotic, always diligently showing up for those weekend drills. Well, I guess the government paid attention and now he’s been called up,” she said sadly.
“Don’t worry Mom, I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” I reassured her. “Sam will be behind the lines, probably restricted to the green zone.”
“I’m not sure,” replied my mom tearfully. “I hear medics go out into Kabul with the troops, and you know how Sam is. He’d volunteer for the front line just to make sure his brothers are safe.”
It was probably true and there was nothing good that could come of this, so I just made soothing noises.
“Don’t worry Ma, everything’s going to be alright, just hold tight. How long is his deployment?” I asked.
“A year,” she cried. “And we just got married!”
“That’s no time at all,” I soothed again. “The United States isn’t going to make you into a widow so fast,” I said. Oops, major boo-boo because my mom wailed even louder.
But I hastened to correct my mistake, smoothing things over.
“You’re going to be alright, okay Ma? Just go to the hospital as usual, and everything’s gonna be fine. The kids at work love you, don’t let them down just because of this.”
She sobbed a bit more and sniffled, but calmed a bit.
“Thanks Melly. You take care too, okay? How is school? Are the people at Trinity nice? How are they treating you?” she asked.
“It’s great, the people are great,” I reassured her. And the truth was Trinity was pre
tty awesome … except for the tuition bill sitting on top of my dresser. I wanted to talk to her about next year’s fees but now didn’t seem like the time.
“Well honey, we love you but try to save a little during the coming year okay? Sam’s going to be paid an Army wage, which is almost nothing, and you know how little I make as a nurse. So be frugal okay, baby? Is there any way you could get a part-time job?”
I could almost hear a big steel door clanging shut on my dreams but I kept my voice steady for the sake of my mom.
“Sure, I can find a job, Ma,” I said. “Let me just go to the Student Learning Center and take a peek, they have a job board over there. Don’t worry about a thing,” I promised.
“Thanks baby,” she sniffled. “Hang in there, okay? And you’re coming home in two weeks, right?”
Oh shit. That’s right, I’d promised to come home to spend some quality time with her, my first visit home since starting freshman year.
“Yep, that’s right Ma, I’m going to drive up, so see you then!” I said with fake cheeriness. I hung up on a high note, but my chest felt tight, and a cloud of panic was descending on my brain. Not only was my stepdad going to war, but I had no way of paying next semester’s tuition. What was I going to do?
CHAPTER THREE
Melanie
The crowds were raucous and noisy from behind the velvet curtain. I twisted the tie on my g-string and fidgeted uncertainly. This idea didn’t seem so good anymore.
I’d been sitting dumbly in my dorm room, staring at the tuition bill again when my roommate Lauren came back from class, dumping her backpack onto the bed.
“Hey Melly, what’s up?” she’d asked carelessly, tossing her jacket onto the bed. It was one of the distressed denim ones, the kind that looks beat-up but was actually really expensive.
We’d gotten to be friends over the couple weeks we’d been living together, and I felt comfortable enough to confide.
“Did you get your tuition bill yet?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, that thing,” said Lauren, squinching up her nose. “It was fucking unbelievable right? Forty-six thousand? It’s fucking grand larceny, and that didn’t even include extra fees and housing,” she said.
I shook my head slowly, feeling defeated.
“It’s just that … honestly, I don’t know if I’m still going to be here,” I confessed. “My stepdad just got called up to Afghanistan, so he’s getting military pay now, and my mom doesn’t have the cash to make up the shortfall,” I said quietly. “I mean, I love Trinity, but my family can’t afford for me to be here, not really.”
Lauren was silent for a bit. I could understand her awkwardness. As a rich girl, it was probably the first time she was putting herself in someone else’s shoes, and she probably didn’t know what to say. But Lauren surprised me.
“Mel, you know I’m not from a wealthy family, right?” said Lauren slowly. “I mean, I have expensive shit and stuff, but I pay for it myself. I don’t have a Daddy Warbucks. In fact, I’m footing the bill here at Trinity on my own.”
My mouth fell open. Really? Unless she had some kind of trust fund, I didn’t see how any eighteen year-old could afford this school.
But Lauren just shook her head.
“I dance, Mel,” she stated. Seeing my look of confusion, she clarified. “I’m a stripper at the Donkey Club in the City.”
Donkey Club? Which city? What was she talking about?
Sighing, she began to explain.
“You know how I disappear every weekend to see my boyfriend up at NYU? Well, I go up to New York City … but it’s not because I have a boyfriend,” she said. “I’m a stripper at a joint up there called the Donkey Club. It’s not one of the high-end places, but there’s a niche for “school girl cream,” as they like to call it.”
“In fact, I often bring a lot of Trinity gear up with me, and that’s my routine,” she said. “My spiel is that I’m a Trinity co-ed, wearing a Trinity bikini and skirt, and it all comes off over the course of a few minutes.”
My mouth hung open. It was true that Lauren owned a ton of Trinity gear but I’d never suspected that it was a costume and props. I’d just figured she had a lot of school spirit.
But I could kind of see it. Lauren was blonde and gorgeous with a worldly, experienced air. Guys would love seeing her on-stage, parading that perfect bod.
Plus, she could pull it off. I’d never questioned that she had a long-term boyfriend in New York whom she visited every weekend. It fit in perfectly with her mature demeanor, the sophisticated way she smoked cigarettes and seemed to know everything already, despite the fact we were both freshmen.
I took a deep breath and decided not to beat around the bush.
“Do you think the Donkey Club would have room for someone like me?” I’d asked, trying to be brave.
Lauren looked me up and down, taking in my riotous brown hair, curvy shape and alabaster skin.
“I know they do,” she replied confidently. “Come with me next weekend, and you’ll pull in the big bucks, I promise.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Melanie
This was turning out to be a bad idea. When we’d arrived at the club, the bouncer had eyed us skeptically.
“IDs,” he ground out.
“Please,” said Lauren haughtily, tilting her perfect ski-slope nose. “Don’t you remember me from last weekend? I dance here, I’ve already been vetted by management.”
“I don’t care if you’re fucking Mother Teresa,” said the big black guy. “So long as you’re twenty-one.”
But he seemed to recognize her and with a sigh, pulled the velveteen curtain back. We sashayed in, Lauren with the air of a queen, me like a mouse trying to find my bearings.
“Stand up straight!” she hissed. “Arch your back! Look glamorous!”
I did as she asked, trying not to feel self-conscious and shy. But of course, that was impossible. The Donkey Club itself was not a vote of confidence. A dirty low-slung bar took up most of the space, with three poles in the center, spotlights of gold highlighting the dancers wriggling and twisting. Peanut shells littered the floor and the clientele weren’t exactly the cream of the crop. I could see a couple missing teeth, some sunburns, steel-toed boots and cowboys hats all around.
“Where do these guys come from?” I asked with wonderment. We were on the west side of Manhattan, in the middle of a concrete jungle, surrounded by skyscrapers and guys in thousand-dollar suits. Where did they find these rednecks?
But Lauren just shrugged. “Listen, the customers pay and that’s what we’re here for right? We can’t dance at the bigger clubs because they want girls to work three or four nights a week and we’re not local.” That was true. We’d taken the bus up from Virginia and it’d been a hellish eight-hour ride, cramped and stuffy.
Plus, I needed the money and was willing to do what it took. I followed Lauren to the back room, where she knocked before opening the door with a proprietary air. A seedy looking dude in an ill-fitting suit looked up, his hand stilling suspiciously beneath his desk, hastily switching off his computer. No doubt he’d been stroking himself to some porn.
“Ralph,” said Lauren silkily. “This is my friend Melanie. You know how Renata quit last week? Well, I figured Mel could fill in on the ‘Dirty Co-eds’ video.”
What video? Lauren had explained that we’d be stripping, but not that we’d be filmed. What the hell?
“You know that new video Jack Strike is filming?” continued Lauren. “Mel would be perfect for Girl 2, you know the one that gets taken for the first time.”
Now I definitely had to interrupt. This didn’t sound like stripping at all, it sounded more like porn. But Lauren glared at me and made a subtle gesture with her hand, rubbing her forefingers against her thumb. Oh right, I needed money and didn’t want to ruin my chances before we’d even begun. Grinding my teeth, I vowed to confront her about this unexpected development as soon as we left New York.
But Ralph leaned back in hi
s chair, so much I thought he might fall over backwards. He gave us a sleazy smile and looked me up and down.
“Strike’s in LA, but he told me to collect audition videos from girls who came in,” he said. “You got one?” he nodded my way.
“Um,” I stuttered. Of course I didn’t have an audition tape, I wasn’t looking to be a professional in the adult entertainment industry.
“No, she doesn’t,” cut in Lauren quickly. “But let’s film one now, it’ll be easy,” she said.
“Sure,” replied Ralph, swiveling his laptop around to face us. “I got a camera embedded here, just start taking it off when you’re ready.”
I turned to Lauren, my mouth open, shocked eyes wide. What was I supposed to do? But she merely pressed a dildo into my hand and whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Fuck yourself with it, don’t worry, no one’s going to see except the producer.”
And I turned back to the camera. Ralph leered and gave me a go sign, indicating that he was already recording. Shit, shit! I didn’t want to do this, but I needed the tuition money so badly that I started to dance. My face flushed and I looked at Lauren pleadingly for guidance, but she just nodded and gestured frantically with her hands.
“Keep going!” she mouthed. “Waggle your hips, bounce your butt a little,” she said, miming the actions.
And I closed my eyes, utterly humiliated, but with no choice. Slowly, I edged the trench coat off my shoulders. Per my roomie’s instructions, I’d worn a tiny black bra and panties with high, high heels, showing off my curvy hips, big boobs, the stilettos lengthening my legs.
Ralph gave a wolf whistle, calling out, “Show some tit, work it baby!”
Oh fuck, I knew I was going to be bad at this, but kept my eyes closed and pretended that I was alone on a desert island with a handsome, dark stranger. Make that two handsome, dark strangers with penetrating blue eyes. They were licking me here, licking me there, touching my breasts … and I pinched my nipple, pretending it was them. Ohhh! That felt good.
#BABYMACHINE: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 32
