Open Your Legs for my Family Page 2

  Wow. No wonder Max is liberal. It figures.

  He steers me through an arched brick doorway before I have time to contemplate his parents’ strange arrangement. We’re in a cozier living room, decorated with confortable-looking sofas and armchairs, all done in mauve and blue. The wallpaper is a pretty pastel and a brick fireplace that is currently dormant lends charm to the furnishings. This is obviously a family den.

  Two young men and a woman are sprawled on the couch and one of the armchairs. I almost take a step back. The youths are identical twins. They are dark-haired – with facial bone structure that would have graced the cover of GQ magazine. They are slender and clad in tight T-shirts that show off their well-delineated shoulders and arms.

  The woman is slightly older than Max. Of the three, she resembles him the most. A curtain of straight blonde hair falls from her scalp to her waist and her eyes are a shocking blue. She wears a diaphanous lacy blouse that enhances her curves over a corduroy skirt. Her black boots come up to her knees.

  They look up as I enter. The woman’s gaze is immediately frosty and piercing.

  “Hey,” Max says.

  “Hey,” the twins reply in chorus. They flash him a grin.

  The woman doesn’t say anything.

  “This is Gina. Gina Wesley. A . . . friend from college.”

  Friend. So I have been relegated to ‘friend’ in front of his family.

  Inwardly, I fume.

  Max glances at my crestfallen face. His expression shifts to an ‘Oh, fuck it’ type of resignation, and he adds, “Actually, this is my new girlfriend, Gina. Gina, meet the twins – Alex and Brad.”

  “Hi,” I say shyly.

  “Hi, I’m Alex.” One of the twins nods at me.

  His twin gets up and gives me his hand. I shake it. His grip is firm and his blue eyes arrests mine. They hold my gaze for a tad longer than necessary.

  “I’m Brad.” The implications in his gaze are clear. It says ‘I find you attractive and I would like to get to know you better’.

  Uh oh.

  I surreptitiously glance at Max. He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy locking eyes with his sister.

  “So you’re Max’s girlfriend,” Brad says. He’s the one in the blue T-shirt. Alex wears the white. That will suffice for now, but if they both take their clothes off, then I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

  Of course, the thought of them taking their clothes off sends me a mental image that I’m not too comfortable about. Both Brad and Alex are extremely handsome – in a way that is completely different from the glorious golden god that is Max Devlin. Let’s just say they are Mercury or Cupid to his Apollo. But being in a relationship does not prohibit me from finding other men attractive, right?

  “I don’t remember Max ever taking any one of his girlfriends home,” Brad continues to me.

  “No?” I say.

  As beautiful as Brad is up close, I’ll admit to being a little distracted. Max is talking in a low voice to his sister. (Well, she can only be his sister.) Their bodies are very close and there is something odd about their posture in conjunction to each other.

  I blink. Maybe it’s just my imagination.

  “Of course he has,” Alex drawls. Not to be outdone, he gets off the couch and comes over to me. Compared to Brad, he’s more aloof.

  He shakes my hand briefly. “There’s that older woman . . . what’s her name now? Connie, I think. He brought her here. But you, Gina, have the dubious honor of being the second.”

  Connie was here? Max brought her here? I flush, remembering Connie and how she sucked at my pussy lips on the night of the Final Initiation.

  “Be nice, Alex.”

  “I’m always nice.”

  “The hell you are. Don’t mind him, Gina. He’s just being an asshole, as usual.”

  “Hey.”

  Max looks over. “Are you guys being nice to my girlfriend?”

  “Always.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of being otherwise, big brother.”

  Max’s sister finally speaks up, “So you’re Gina.”

  She doesn’t come over to shake my hand.

  “Yes.” I don’t know why, but she makes me nervous.

  “Gina, this is Alice. Alice, Gina.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, walking over to her uncertainly.

  I hold out my hand, but she doesn’t take it. Instead, she stares me down, like an adversary sizing up a rival. She’s a good five inches taller than me. I make a mental note to wear higher heels next time.

  I’m submissive by nature, and I can’t help but cringe before her.

  Max is looking pretty uncomfortable himself.

  He ruffles his hair, which is lighted up into a glorious gold by the sun streaming through the bay windows. “Uh, Alice, why don’t you show Gina to her room?”

  My room? I have my own room? I thought I was sleeping with Max. Or maybe he doesn’t want to ruffle his parents’ feathers. Or Healthcliff’s. I wouldn’t know. Anyway, it isn’t my house. I’m just a guest and I shouldn’t be complaining.

  Should I?

  Alice looks like she’d rather be pulling teeth than to show me to my room.

  “Well, come on then,” she finally says.

  Without another word, she turns and walks through the doorway as if she expects me to follow her without question. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alice was a former Initiator in Phi Kappa Omega.

  I glance at Max. He nods. Go on. It’s all right.

  The twins grin and nudge each other.

  My heart going pitter-patter in my chest, I turn tail and run after Alice.

  3

  Alice is tapping her foot impatiently at the top of the grand curving stairway.

  “What kept you?” she says.

  “Sorry.” I’m a little breathless from running up the stairs two at a time. “I left my stuff with Heathcliff. Should I – ?”

  “Don’t bother. He’s already lugged it up to your room.”

  She strides off without waiting for me. Inwardly, I sigh. So it’s going to be like this. What’s her bug with me? The fact that her little brother has openly declared me his girlfriend? Remembering how odd I thought the two of them were together in the lounge, I suppress my desire to know and lengthen my strides to match hers.

  The corridors upstairs are long and decorated with more paintings and tables piled with curios than I have ever seen in somebody’s home. Then of course, I haven’t been in many homes belonging to people whose possible take-home salary in a day dwarves my father’s entire life’s savings.

  After winding down a wing, Alice opens the second door to the end of the passageway.

  “This is your room,” she says gruffly.

  She stands there, holding the doorknob, and blocking my way. It’s as though she literally doesn’t want me to be a guest in this house. I have to sidle past her, holding my breath and making myself as small as possible, to get through. Why do I allow people to treat me this way? Oh right, I’m a natural born doormat.

  The guest room is larger than I expected it would be – with a sitting area, its own refrigerator and a balcony that looks out to the ocean. The doors to the balcony are flung wide open. The long curtains tent in the soft breeze, scented with sea salt. Alice clicks exasperatedly and moves to shut the glass doors.

  “I keep telling Heathcliff to keep the damned thing shut. But that’s help for you these days.”

  I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had help. My one suitcase is already sitting on its perch beside a built-in closet. The bed is a four-poster ensemble, replete with a white canopy that calls to mind the Arabian nights.

  “It’s beautiful,” I remark honestly. “Thank you.”

  I suppose Max gets conjugal visiting rights.

  Alice shrugs. “It’s OK.”

  I decide that I don’t like Alice. And Alice clearly doesn’t like me.

  She’s sizing me up and down, as though I’m a lab specimen that has not been delivered according to specifications.

  She says, “You’re tiny. He doesn’t usually like tiny girls.”

  I’m a tad irritated, though I’m trying to mask it. I’m not the sort of girl who gets irritated easily.

  “We get along just fine,” I retort.

  “Whatever. He usually likes them big.”

  You mean like Connie.

  “In what way do you mean ‘big’?” I say, trying to keep my tone even.

  “You know.” She puts her palms in front of her own breasts – which are larger than mine by any standard. She mimics groping watermelons.

  “He likes mine just fine.”

  “Is that what he tells you?”

  “Yes.”

  How long is she going to stand there and interrogate me like this? I wish I had the courage to tell her to get out of my room, but really, this is her house. And she’s my boyfriend’s sister. I’m too new to the family to antagonize anyone just yet.

  Then she suddenly smiles. Her face, which is lovely when she’s not scowling and making like she’s eaten hobnails, transforms into something quite breathtaking. I hold my breath.

  “You’re an initiate, aren’t you?”

  It’s obvious that Max hasn’t told them anything about me.

  “I’m in Phi Kappa Omega,” I say evasively.

  She chortles in delight. “This is the first time he’s brought an initiate home.”

  “I’m not an initiate anymore. I’m a member of Phi Kappa Omega. The youngest ever to get in.”

  “What are you – a freshman?”

  “Yes.” I hope my eyes shoot defiance.

  She laughs again. A silvery, tinkling laugh.

  “Well, it’s the first time he’s ever dated a freshman. That’s odd for him. You must be something quite special.” She says this last with a sneer.

  There’s so much antagonism in the room that you can cut it with a knife.

  “I think he’s special.” I lift my chin.

  “I’m sure you do. All the girls think he’s special. Quite a lot of boys do too. So what do you do for him, freshman, that makes him think you’re special enough to bring home to the family?”

  “Nothing any other girlfriend wouldn’t do.”

  “Is that so?”

  I’m aware that my cheeks are flushing. Every remark of hers is like a slap to my face. “Yes.”

  Her eyelids flutter as she blinks a few times. Her mouth is curled in a smile. Then she moves to inspect my suitcase.

  “Gina Wesley,” she reads. “Gifford. Phi Kappa Omega. An address anyone would kill for.”

  Yes, I’m aware of that. I don’t say anything.

  “And now you’ve snared the college prize.”

  I don’t think going out with Max Devlin for two weeks passes for having ‘snared’ him. Again, I keep mum. She’s needling me on purpose and I will not take the bait.

  She studies my suitcase for a while longer. At first, I think she’s observing my tag. But then she says, “I assume this is your suitcase. Not something my brother actually bought for you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Kind of tacky, isn’t it?” She gives me a knowing sidelong glance.

  Inside, I fume.

  “Well, it’s all I can afford. I don’t earn a chairman’s salary.”

  “I thought so.”

  I wonder where this is heading.

  Alice turns to go. Probably can’t stand being in my company a second longer. Then she stops and swivels back.

  “I want you to know something,” she says in a low, dangerous voice. “I know what you are. You’re hoping to trap my brother into some kind of long-term commitment.”

  What is she implying? That I’m a gold digger? That I’m only after Max for his money? She’s got to be kidding, right?

  “I don’t intend to trap anyone into a long-term commitment,” I declare. “If they want to give me a long-term commitment, it will be wholly voluntary on their part.”

  I won’t deny that I’m hoping my relationship with Max will last out. Of course I do. It’s early days for us and I’m still intoxicated with exploring and discovering.

  “Whatever.” There’s a glint in her eyes. “But if you hurt my little brother, I swear I’ll kill you. And I have the means do it too.”

  The threat hangs between us. Alice at that moment looks like a feral wildcat – all bunched, tense shoulders and curled fists. The air crackles with electricity. I’m suddenly very afraid. I picture Alice handing over large briefcases of cash to shady men with wide-brimmed hats and Panama suits, together with my photograph in a large glossy marked with an ‘X’.

  I muster enough courage to say, “I’m not going to hurt your little brother.” My voice ends in a quaver.

  Coward, coward, coward, I scold myself.

  But it’s true.

  The question is whether or not he will hurt me. In fact, I’m living in fear of that.

  “Just make sure you don’t,” Alice throws back.

  For a while, she makes as though she would jump at me to tear my eyes out. I cringe. My hands at my back reach for the support of the bedpost. The bedside table lamp looks tempting, but it’s too far from reach. Alice’s eyes are flashing and her hands bunch into claws that look as if they would like to eviscerate me.

  My heart thunders in my ears. I wonder if I should scream for help.

  Then the moment passes, like a thundercloud bank floating off, and I wonder if I have imagined it. Alice is Alice again – beautiful, impeccably coiffed, aloof.

  She leaves without another word. It’s like a whirlwind has passed through the room and ruffled all my emotional feathers.

  I heave a sigh of relief. If today is any indication to go by, I’m in for a long, tense ride.

  4

  Max comes to my room sometime in the evening after I’ve had my bath.

  “Hey, you OK?”

  He holds out his arms and I sink into them, comforted. His skin is very warm and his scent – of an expensive musk – is intoxicating. I never want to let him go.

  “Gina, what’s the matter? Your eyes are red.”

  He disengages my tight arms from his waist and clasps my face in his palms. His concerned eyes are questioning, searching.

  I wipe the tears away. I thought the bath had cured my case of the blubbers, but obviously the vestiges are still there.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “There’s something, or you wouldn’t be crying,” he persists. “What is it? Has Alice been mean to you?”

  Right on the nail head.

  I swallow. “Not really.”

  He sighs. “Don’t tell me, she gave you the third degree.”

  For answer, I rub my eyes. I’m not a squealer, even when I was being bullied by the older girls back in middle school.

  “Let me talk to her,” Max says.

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  I shake my head. “It would only make things worse.”

  His handsome head is shaking. Little shakes, like he’s trying to get water out of his ears. “She does this, you know. Try to scare all my friends away. That’s why I never bring anyone home.”

  Except for Connie. It is as I suspected. It isn’t as if Max has a shortage of girlfriends. Someone who looks like he does should never be absent of female company.

  I say in a small voice, “So why did you bring me home, Max?”

  A large part of me wants him to say that I’m special, and that he wants to show off that special somebody in his life to his family. In fact, my whole body is straining to hear him say that. If I can will someone into saying something by sheer coercive ability, I would have done it.

  Oh please please please . . .

  He’s silent for so long that I’m beginning to get worried. Then a wide smile touches his wonderfully shaped lips.

  “Because I want to show you, Gina Wesley, off to my family.”

  OK, he’s said it. Part of it. What he knows I want to hear.

  He presses me close to his chest and I bury my face in his long, elegant neck. I hold him so tightly that I’m compressing his ribcage, but I don’t care. I feel as if the world is falling from the soles of my feet. And I need the sturdiness of his anchor.

  He senses my melancholy too and reacts by holding me back tightly.

  “Max,” I say after a while, “there’s something I want to ask you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Remember when you asked me in the car if I would like to revisit being a submissive?”

  A knot of tension enters his muscles. “Yes?”

  “Well, I slept over it.”

  He pulls his body away from mine so that he can look down at my face. Up close, his features are breathtaking.

  “And . . . ?” he says in that low voice of his.

  “I need to know one thing.” I swallow the lump that has come into my throat. “Do you like being a dominant?”

  He’s silent for a while. I can feel his mind churning behind those striking blue eyes.

  “I won’t lie to you, Gina. The answer is yes.”

  I take in a deep breath. I had thought as much.

  “Is that why you asked me to be your submissive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you don’t like the vanilla sex we’ve been having for the past two weeks?” My voice comes out in a croak.

  “No, Gina, I liked it fine.” He hesitates. “It’s just that . . . I’ve been brought up to like certain other . . . things.”

  “Like being a dom?”

  “Yes.”

  I close my eyes.

  His hand creeps to my cheek. “You’re a natural submissive, Gina,” he says softly. “There’s a deep part of you that likes being a submissive. I’ve seen it come out many times.”

  I shiver. I know it to be true.

  He adds, “So . . . is that your answer? Yes?”

  I nod. He knows me so well by now. I always knew I would say yes. And it’s not just because of him. He’s right. Deep down in the darkest parts of myself, I’ve discovered that I like being sexually dominated.

  He says, “Remember the word ‘yellow’. Anytime you think it gets too hot, you can opt out of it.”

  I nod again. A queasy feeling blossoms in the pit of my stomach. ‘Yellow’ is to be my salvation.

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