Her Twin Stepbrothers

by Terry Towers

  “Andrea!” one of the brothers called out. By the sternness of his tone, I assumed it was Eric. Eric tended to approach things head-on with ferocity.

  “Hey, Andrea!” An identical voice called out. It was Sam. There was sympathy in the second voice, which confirmed that I was right.

  Time to face the music, I groaned inwardly, walking to my bedroom door, turning the handle and pulling it open. As I walked through the doorway, I turned towards the staircase to see Eric reach the landing. He stopped and stood dead still a moment, staring up at me.

  As much as I wanted to look away, I didn’t. Standing a little taller, my chin jutted out and up, I met his stare. “Eric.”

  “We need to have a talk about what we saw tonight.”

  “Alright.”

  Sam reached the landing and nudged Eric aside, standing next to his brother. “How long have you been stripping, Andrea?”

  “I’m not going to have this conversation in the hallway.” I moved past the brothers and began making my way down the stairs. “You guys want coffee?” I didn’t bother to wait for a response, but kept going down the stairs and into the kitchen. I could hear the brothers following behind me.

  I kept my back to them as I prepared the Keurig, grabbing each of their favourites from the silver spinning holder. None of us spoke until the coffee was made and sitting on the coffee table.

  Letting out a loud huff of air, I decided the best way to tackle this was to just get it out and over with. “Look, this was my first time stripping.”

  “So this is your job now?” Eric asked, not bothering with his coffee, but getting right to it, the distaste for that I’d done clearly evident in his tone.

  “No,” I ran a shaky hand through my hair. “I mean, I’m not sure.” God, I felt like a kid being scolded. A part of me knew it was my life, and I could do with it as I pleased, but on the other hand, I hated that I’d disappointed him and prayed it didn’t affect the way he saw me.

  “Not sure?!” Eric stood and slammed his fist down onto the table, his expression incredulous. “I’m telling you right now, it’s your last time!”

  My eyes narrowed at him. As much as I was embarrassed over what I’d done, rage flared up within me. Regardless of what he felt about my decisions, how dare he! Standing, I stared him down. “You will not tell me what I can and can’t do, Eric!”

  “You’re damned right I will, because no one else in this house seems to have any common sense.”

  “Whoa,” Sam stood as well and placed a hand on each of our shoulders, guiding us back down into our seats. “Let’s just talk this out and not let emotions make us say things we’ll regret.”

  Eric’s jaw clenched as he continued to stare at me. I could tell he was trying to get his feelings in check.

  Sam directed his attention to me, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  Looking over at him, I flashed him a smile of appreciation.

  “So what happened? Why were you stripping, Andrea?” Sam asked. There wasn’t any judgement in his tone, just concern and curiosity.

  “Well,” I shrugged, “I happened across the club on my way home and decided to stop in. It’s pretty new in town, and I was curious to see if it was actually getting business or not.

  “So you just decided to get naked while there?” Eric cut in.

  Sam glared at his brother. “Eric, that’s enough. Let her talk.”

  Ignoring Eric, I continued. “The club owner was waiting for his new girl to arrive and do a live audition. He saw me alone, and I assume I looked like the girl, so he came up to me and gave me some money to get on stage.”

  “What did he say when you told him you weren’t a dancer?”

  “Well.” I pulled my eyes from his and stared into the cup. Picking up the coffee, I took a tentative sip. Normally, I loved mocha, but tonight, I couldn’t even taste it. “It happened so fast. I was so surprised and then next thing I knew, I was picking out an outfit and being rushed to the stage.”

  “Really?” Eric sat back in the high back wooden chair and shook his head at me. “At no point did you think to say ‘Hey buddy, I’m not a stripper?’”

  “Of course it did.”

  Eric put his hands out to the sides, palms up as if to say, “Well, there you go.”

  “But I saw the money, and I’ve been feeling so knotted up inside lately.” I sighed. “I don’t know, I guess I was kinda hoping that doing something crazy might get my mind off of everything.”

  Sam put his hand on mine, and a rush of need raced through me as I looked over at him. But this time, it wasn’t a sexual need, but a need for comfort and understanding. “I get it. I do.”

  “You’re both fucking nuts,” Eric muttered.

  We both ignored him.

  “But you’re not going to strip again, right?” Sam’s eyes seemed to plead with mine.

  “I’m pretty good at it.”

  “But that’s not you, Andrea.”

  “Who says? Who are you?” I looked at Eric’s disapproving face and then back to Sam. “Who are you to say what I am or am not?”

  “The bar is your heart and soul, Andrea.”

  “And we’re going to lose it.” Tears filled my eyes. Dammit, why was I always crying or on the verge of tears lately? I just wished I could be stronger. That I could turn off my emotions. But to my dismay, I couldn’t.

  Sam’s expression saddened. “Don’t say that. It’s not like you to give up. Your optimism and the fight within you is the most beautiful part of who you are, Andrea.”

  Sam was so sweet. As I looked deep into his eyes, the uncomfortableness of the past day seemed to fade. This was Sam, the guy I ran to when I needed to be cheered up. Or when I screwed up and needed a wingman to help lighten the blow of my poor decisions.

  “I was being impulsive.”

  He nodded. “You’re not going back, are you?”

  I hesitated.

  “No, she’s not,” Eric cut in.

  “Eric. Stop. It’s her life.” He gave my hand a squeeze along with a reassuring nod.

  Thank you, I mouthed to Sam.

  “Truth is, I don’t know.”

  Sam’s smile faltered for a moment. “Why not?”

  “The money was good. And I think it would be good research.”

  “For what?” I couldn’t avoid Eric's semi-hostile glare any longer. Keeping my hand in Sam’s for strength, I focused all my attention on Eric. “Don’t tell me you’re still on that ridiculous porn idea, are you?” I really don’t think I’d seen him as agitated as he was at this moment.

  “Because it could be a direction The Foxy could take,” I defended.

  “No,” Eric laughed. “Just no. There’s no way in hell that is going to happen.”

  I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table and settling my glare on Eric. “If it’s so distasteful, then why were you there?”

  His jaw clenched as he challenged me with his eyes. But he had no answer. After what seemed like an eternity but was closer to perhaps a half minute, he growled and stood so quickly and violently that it sent the chair toppling behind him. “I’m done with this idiotic conversation.” Spinning on his heel, he stormed out of the kitchen. A moment later the front, door opened and slammed shut behind him.

  Every ounce of energy seemed to drain from me, and I slumped back into my chair, deflated. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in and slowly released it. I felt like I was going to start hyperventilating at any moment and willed myself to calm down. Me and my bad choices. But then again, I didn’t completely feel like this was a bad choice. Sure, stripping wasn’t exactly accepted by a lot of folks around here, and many people felt it was morally questionable— but that wasn’t me. I wasn’t one of those judgemental types.

  “Are you serious, Andy?”

  I’d forgotten Sam was holding my hand until I felt him give it a gentle squeeze. It was reassuring that our encounter the previous night didn’t even come to mind.

&nbs
p; “I am serious. We need to make a go of The Foxy.”

  Sam nodded.

  “You think it’s insane too, don't you?”

  He shrugged. “It’s unorthodox. I don’t completely disagree with it, but you know, there’s lots of trouble that comes with that type of club.”

  “I know.” In truth, I was concerned that it was a decision that would be the final nail in the coffin of our bar. “But if we’re going to go out, we should go out swinging.”

  “We’re still going to need money to pay for renovations. It’s not just as easy as making an announcement.”

  “Then I'll go back and dance tomorrow night.” I gave him a rueful smile. As much as I got a thrill out of the experience, now that the adrenaline rush was over, I didn’t know if it was something I could do all over again. I talked a big game, but it became clear to me tonight that after the rush wore off, I wasn’t nearly the exhibitionist I thought I was. The idea that I had yesterday about doing cam shows seemed ridiculous to me now. It was a "desperate times calls for desperate measures" type of idea. Amazing, the amount of clarity a person could regain in the span of a day. Would another 24 hours give me new insights on turning The Foxy into a strip club?

  “No!” He gave me a stern look. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll...figure something out.” We stared at each other a moment, and uneasiness began to creep up within me again as the memory of the previous evening pushed all other thoughts aside. I knew he was thinking the same thing, because his eyes took on a heated, hungry look.

  I needed to get out of there, ASAP, before we had a re-enactment of the previous day. “I should get to sleep, it’s been a long day.” I pulled my hand from his and stood. “Goodnight.”

  Sam reached out and caught my wrist in his hand as I began to leave the table. “Wait.”

  My body froze for a moment, but I forced myself to look down into his eyes. Damn, he was sexy. His eyes were so dark and mysterious— they were captivating. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to feel how he had made me feel yesterday.

  It looked like he was going to say something, and I braced myself for whatever it was he was going to say. The way I was feeling right now, vulnerable, helpless, with my mind in such a flurry, I know that if he suggested I spend the night with him in his room, I’m pretty sure I would. But that would be wrong.

  “What do you want, Sam?”

  Giving his head a shake, he released my wrist. “Nothing. Have a good night, Andy.”

  Chapter 8

  Eric

  “I’m fine, man. Really.” The cab driver looked doubtful, but nodded.

  “That’ll be thirteen dollars, pal.”

  Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I passed him fifteen dollars and waved off the change.

  “Thanks.”

  I gave him a half-wave as I fumbled for the door handle of the cab. I couldn’t find it.

  “Where in the fuck is the handle?” I growled just as my hand found it. Giving it a yank, the door clicked, and I pushed it open. Carefully, I stepped out of the cab, and the cool night air hit me, and I got the sudden urge to vomit. Jesus, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this drunk.

  You know what, I’m lying. I do remember. It was when our parents died. After the funeral, I went to the bar and drank until I passed out. Sam and Andrea found me the next morning, asleep on the floor behind the bar, a pile of vomit not too far from my head. I don’t remember that night, and honestly, I'm glad I didn’t. It was one of those dark times in my life I wished I could forget.

  Kinda like this one.

  But now was different. I know Sam and Andrea considered me a buzzkill and an asshole at times. But it couldn’t be helped. I needed to keep the family afloat, emotionally and financially. It was a burden I vowed to bear. But that wasn’t all. I couldn’t get the sight of Andrea up on the stage bumping and grinding out of my mind. Or the way her tits jiggled as she moved. She had large, pink areolas. I’m a breast man, and every time I thought about it, my dick would jerk alive in my pants. I’m no saint, I’d thought about Andrea in that way a few times over the years. Usually, when I was jerking off, her image would pop into my mind, but this time was different. Seeing her as a purely sexual being had awakened something in me, a deep seated, feral hunger.

  I was royally fucked. So in an attempt to clear my mind, I went to the bar and got thoroughly shit-faced again. Although this time, I was able to make my way back on my own. Well, with a little help from the cabbie.

  I had almost made it to the front door when something caught my foot, and I went stumbling forward. As I felt my body go down, I reached out and managed to grab onto the iron railing. Looking down, I realized where I’d gone wrong. I’d forgotten there were steps leading to the front door. Ooops.

  Carefully, I made my way up the remainder of the steps and grasped the door handle. It turned in my hand. Hallelujah! At least one thing went right for me today. Stepping inside the house, all was quiet, and there only lights on were the hallway leading to the upstairs stairwell.

  Good. I didn’t want either of them seeing me in this condition. Sure, Sam had seen me drunk more than a few times, especially as teenagers, but a part of me was scared he’d take one look at me and know my deep, dark secret. I was lusting over our sister.

  Walking—no, correction—stumbling down the hallway, I had almost made it to the staircase when I heard a voice call out from the living room I was in the process of passing.

  “Eric?”

  Glancing to the right and into the living room, I saw Andrea peeking up from the back of the sofa. Her face was clean of make-up, hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. I loved seeing her this way. She looked beautiful and sexy with make-up on, but with all that stripped away, you got to see the natural beauty that she really was.

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me as she examined me a moment. “Are you drunk?”

  “Nah.” I straightened and started walking—stumbling—again.

  “Bullshit.”

  Letting out a loud sigh, I closed my eyes and counted backwards from ten. Nine… Eight… Seven…

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Six… Five… Four…

  “Have a serious talk.”

  Three… Two… One…

  Opening my eyes, I focused my gaze on her again. “About what?”

  “The Foxy and its future.”

  “Now? The last thing I want to do is have this conversation at…” I looked down at my wrist at my analogue watch. The numbers were annoyingly blurred. Squinting, I was able to see it was 2, maybe 3 in the morning. Fuck it. “It’s late, Andrea. It can wait until morning?”

  “No, it can’t. I can’t sleep, I’m so worked up over the whole thing.” She got up from the couch, circled around it, and began making her way over to me. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts bounced freely with each step.

  I couldn’t help it, I stared at her tits. They were hypnotic. And fuck. Her nipples were tight and pressing against the form fitting camisole she was wearing. Dammit, I’m getting hard! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  My eyes narrowed at her as she approached me. Was she doing this on purpose? Trying to tempt me? My dick was now at half-mast and kept rising at the thought.

  Yeah, she was knew you were going to be at the strip club and decided to strip there tonight, just to tempt you, jackass. A voice in the back of my head scolded.

  Fuck!

  I raked a hand through my hair, embarrassed I'd even thought of that. She teased once and a while, but I knew for a fact that fucking either myself or Sam was the last thing she wanted. She’d made it perfectly clear from day one that she considered us brothers, totally off-limits.

  God, what was wrong with me? Despite her approaching me, I started my way up the stairs. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” I called over my shoulder at her.

  As I ascended the stairs, her light footsteps came after me. She was nothing if not persistent. Maybe if I ignored her long enou
gh, she’d go away.

  No such luck.

  I made it to my bedroom door just as she caught up to me, grabbing my upper arm and urging me to turn back and face her.

  Letting out a sigh of defeat, I allowed myself to be turned to face her, but I wasn’t going to talk to her without giving it one more last ditch effort to persuade her to wait until tomorrow. “I’m tired and kinda drunk right now, Andrea. I’m in no condition to talk seriously with you right now.”

  The look of determination in on her face and in her eyes wavered. Seeing her hesitation to continue, I opened the door to my bedroom and entered.