on this therapist you forced me to talk to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She says I should stay away from him. From
Alec.”
Chris is quiet. I’m sure she doesn’t know
what to say to that. She was convinced that Dr. B would be able to
help me with all of my problems, sending me off after a month or
two to live happily ever after with the man of my choosing. What
Chris fails to realize is that happily ever afters are reserved for
fiction. I write them, but that’s probably as close as I’ll ever
get to one.
She recovers after a minute or so. I’m not
surprised. As a rule, she’s pretty unflappable. “To that I would
say this: You think too much. That’s always been your problem. I
was hoping Dr. B might help you get out of that, and I’m not
convinced that’s not still going to happen. Maybe this is some sort
of proven psychoanalytical technique. What the hell do I know?”
“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking,” I
tease.
“Well, smart ass, I’ll tell you just what the
hell I know. I know you’re smart and funny and gorgeous and
talented, and you deserve to be happy more than anyone I know. And,
dammit, I’m gonna get you there if it’s the last mother fu—”
From the bedside table, my phone rings,
effectively cutting off her rant. I pick it up and glance at the
screen. “That’s Ari.”
With a sigh specifically engineered to let me
know how put-upon she feels, Chris relents. “Fine. Go. Go and give
all your precious time to your publicist. See if I care.”
“I know you care, Chris. And I love you for
it. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still hope for me. Don’t give
up.”
“Fat chance of that ever happening. I’m as
tenacious as a pit bull. You know that.”
“Yes, yes I do know that,” I quip. “I
just need time. That’s all. I’m not broken beyond repair.”
That’s more for her benefit than mine. I’m
not convinced that I can be fixed. Ever. By anyone.
“None of us are.”
While I hope she’s right, I have my
doubts.
I smile. “We have a more pressing issue at
the moment, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to pee. Badly. And you’re on my feet.
I suggest you get off them before we both get a golden shower.”
“Save that nasty stuff for your books,
woman,” she says, screwing up her face and scooting off the bed.
“I’m a good girl.”
Chris pushes her nose up in the air, giving
me her best impression of a how she sees a good girl. I burst into
laughter.
“Yeah, right! You’ve probably been peed on
more than a urinal cake.”
Playfully, she swats my arm as she slips her
shoes back on. “Brush your teeth while you’re at it. I’m gonna have
to go pencil in my eyebrows as it is.”
“Hey, no one told you to come drag me out of
bed.”
“I actually came to remind you about the
carnival tonight.”
“Ugh!” I moan as I flop back on my pillow.
“Why are you such a pain in my butt?”
“I’m your sister. It’s my job. Plus, I enjoy
the shit out of it.” Chris is wearing a satisfied smirk as she
sashays out of my bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- Alec
I dreamed last night of what Samantha would
look like tied to a bed of black silk, her alabaster skin glowing
pale in the low light but for the red globes of her perfect ass.
When I woke, I could almost feel the sting of her skin against my
palm. I was hard for an hour afterward.
Now I’m wishing we were further along, to the
point where she’d welcome a night like that. But first things
first. I need to get her to that point.
I ignore the voice of my more…traditional
self, the one who once abhorred people like me and fetishes like
mine. Actually, he still does. It wasn’t until the accident that I
even knew of the other side of sexuality, the one I’ve come to
embrace. Almost against my will. Certainly against part of
my will.
But it’s the other part, the other half, that
loves it. And he’s very hard to control.
CHAPTER NINETEEN- Samantha
The
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She says I should stay away from him. From
Alec.”
Chris is quiet. I’m sure she doesn’t know
what to say to that. She was convinced that Dr. B would be able to
help me with all of my problems, sending me off after a month or
two to live happily ever after with the man of my choosing. What
Chris fails to realize is that happily ever afters are reserved for
fiction. I write them, but that’s probably as close as I’ll ever
get to one.
She recovers after a minute or so. I’m not
surprised. As a rule, she’s pretty unflappable. “To that I would
say this: You think too much. That’s always been your problem. I
was hoping Dr. B might help you get out of that, and I’m not
convinced that’s not still going to happen. Maybe this is some sort
of proven psychoanalytical technique. What the hell do I know?”
“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking,” I
tease.
“Well, smart ass, I’ll tell you just what the
hell I know. I know you’re smart and funny and gorgeous and
talented, and you deserve to be happy more than anyone I know. And,
dammit, I’m gonna get you there if it’s the last mother fu—”
From the bedside table, my phone rings,
effectively cutting off her rant. I pick it up and glance at the
screen. “That’s Ari.”
With a sigh specifically engineered to let me
know how put-upon she feels, Chris relents. “Fine. Go. Go and give
all your precious time to your publicist. See if I care.”
“I know you care, Chris. And I love you for
it. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still hope for me. Don’t give
up.”
“Fat chance of that ever happening. I’m as
tenacious as a pit bull. You know that.”
“Yes, yes I do know that,” I quip. “I
just need time. That’s all. I’m not broken beyond repair.”
That’s more for her benefit than mine. I’m
not convinced that I can be fixed. Ever. By anyone.
“None of us are.”
While I hope she’s right, I have my
doubts.
I smile. “We have a more pressing issue at
the moment, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to pee. Badly. And you’re on my feet.
I suggest you get off them before we both get a golden shower.”
“Save that nasty stuff for your books,
woman,” she says, screwing up her face and scooting off the bed.
“I’m a good girl.”
Chris pushes her nose up in the air, giving
me her best impression of a how she sees a good girl. I burst into
laughter.
“Yeah, right! You’ve probably been peed on
more than a urinal cake.”
Playfully, she swats my arm as she slips her
shoes back on. “Brush your teeth while you’re at it. I’m gonna have
to go pencil in my eyebrows as it is.”
“Hey, no one told you to come drag me out of
bed.”
“I actually came to remind you about the
carnival tonight.”
“Ugh!” I moan as I flop back on my pillow.
“Why are you such a pain in my butt?”
“I’m your sister. It’s my job. Plus, I enjoy
the shit out of it.” Chris is wearing a satisfied smirk as she
sashays out of my bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- Alec
I dreamed last night of what Samantha would
look like tied to a bed of black silk, her alabaster skin glowing
pale in the low light but for the red globes of her perfect ass.
When I woke, I could almost feel the sting of her skin against my
palm. I was hard for an hour afterward.
Now I’m wishing we were further along, to the
point where she’d welcome a night like that. But first things
first. I need to get her to that point.
I ignore the voice of my more…traditional
self, the one who once abhorred people like me and fetishes like
mine. Actually, he still does. It wasn’t until the accident that I
even knew of the other side of sexuality, the one I’ve come to
embrace. Almost against my will. Certainly against part of
my will.
But it’s the other part, the other half, that
loves it. And he’s very hard to control.
CHAPTER NINETEEN- Samantha
The
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