Punishment with Kisses (8 page)

“What’s this one?” I was playing connect the scars on her body, languishing over every line, every mark.

“I was playing flag football and ran into a rake.”

“And this one? Let me guess, knife fight?”

“Yeah, with a cantaloupe.” Shane laughed, a hearty, guttural guffaw I found intoxicating.

“It’s my turn,” she said abruptly, flipping me over and crawling on top of me. “I want to play connect the dots on your body now.”

I did like the sound of that, but I was barely comfortable with my naked body during sex, much less so during a game of map my flaws. “I’m not sure I have as many things to connect.”

Would that stop her?

“Well, let’s make it interesting then,” she said, tugging off the remainder of my clothes. “You close your eyes. When I get to something, you have to tell me where the mark came from.”

“Okay,” I drawled, uncertain.

“Oh, there’s one catch.” I waited, already enticed but nervous nonetheless. “I’m only going to use my tongue.”

I felt myself getting wetter already. Just the thought of Shane’s tongue rolling up and down my body, darting in and out of crevices, demanding to know them, made me feel weak kneed and light headed. I’m pretty sure my legs parted right then and there, but Shane made a point of blindfolding me and laying my arms to the sides of my body instead of using them to cover the pooch on my stomach or my hairy triangle or some other place I would normally try to hide from insecurity.

“No touching, missy,” Shane said. She began slowly, one finger at a time, using her tongue to trace and then point at a spot between my thumb and forefinger.

“What’s this one?”

“My grandmother was pointing with a knife in the kitchen and my hand hit it.”

“Ew, painful.” She moved on up and down each finger to my wrist to the inside of my elbow, using her tongue to stroke the inside and then the outside. “And this one?” Her query was muffled from sucking on my elbow, a motion that I was finding almost intolerable in its excitement.

“Uh, I don’t know…” I trailed off moving my hand to her face and trying to push her down.

“No shortcuts and no hands, I said.” Shane played back with me. She knew how badly I wanted her inside me, on me, down there now, but she was drawing it out. My stomach knotted, desire like a clenched fist in my gut.

“What’s this one?” she demanded again.

“Oh God, c’mon! Bobby Jenson pushed me off my bike in fourth grade.” All the blood in my body had rushed to my cunt, which was now so wet I could barely keep my legs together without matting. “Move!”

Shane was controlled though, surely enjoying this little game. She moved from the elbow to my shoulder, under my arm and on to my neck. Finding no birthmarks or blemishes of any sort, Shane bit my neck slightly, in a sort of modified hickey. It left me speechless. I moved my own hand down to my crotch. I couldn’t wait anymore. I would please myself if I had to.

But Shane caught me and pinned the wayward hand down with hers. She grabbed my other hand and when I couldn’t bear it anymore she pinned it too, now using just her mouth to lick and nibble every single inch of my body from head to toe. The questions had ceased on her end, but the curiosity was still there, I could tell. When she flipped me over onto my belly I considered dry humping the bed, except, well, it could hardly be called dry humping with the state of delirium I was in.

“Shane, please.” I was beyond begging. Her tongue had hit every trigger point, every erogenous zone on my body except the big one, and I wasn’t sure I could handle any more stimulation.

“Yes, dear,” Shane whispered in my ear.

“Please do it. I need you. Now.”

Before I could beg anymore, Shane forced my legs apart and from behind rammed her tongue in my cunt. She thrust it forcefully in and out of me, flicking along my clit with each new shove. As greedy and demanding as her tongue seemed, it propelled me to orgasm within minutes. But Shane wasn’t ready to stop there.

As I lay spent on my bed, hoping to God nobody heard me shriek when I came, Shane shuffled about the room and came back with a purple marbled dildo that looked alarmingly like a boomerang. I wasn’t sure what we would do with it, but I didn’t want her to be aware of my naivety.

“Wait, let’s rest a minute,” I stalled.

“Shhh, trust me.”

And so I did, lying back again while Shane gently moved one end of the lubed-up contraption inside me and placed the smaller end inside herself. She began rocking back and forth, her hips jutting out at me at random angles, our pubic hair soon matted and entwined like a natty old wig. I quickly learned that Shane could wield this double-headed dildo as surely as my college fling, Terra Moscowitz, strapped hers on. And with this I saw the desire and pleasure inside Shane as every time I pushed back, the toy throbbed inside of her. I could tease her now. I could hold back, slow down, then speed up, using my hips and my pelvis to control everything.

I entwined my fingers with hers and pushed our arms above our heads so Shane’s whole torso fell onto mine. Her tits moving on top of mine, her mouth next to my neck, it was all too much, and I could barely contain myself until Shane started quivering. Her legs were shaking now, ferociously trying to control her body, but one final thrust and her back arched and she let out a loud, animalistic howl. I let myself orgasm too finally, collapsing into her again.

When I awoke an hour later I knew I had to get Shane out of there before Father caught wind of us. I thanked God for this ridiculously large house. I ushered Shane out to the street and made my way back to the exit by the servant’s quarters. And who was standing there but my sister.

“Ashley! Oh, my God. You scared me.”

“Maybe that’s your guilt talking.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t know what your problem is.” Ash had picked a crap time to pretend to care about me. I wasn’t buying her argument that Shane was using me to get to her. “And how exactly does her having sex with me get to you, hmm? Don’t try to play big sister with me. You haven’t acted like my sister in a long fucking time.”

“Look, I’m trying to stop you from getting hurt, kiddo. Shane’s no good, she’ll just break your heart.”

“You know what? I’m pretty damn sick of you trying to get me going over this. I know for a fact that Shane doesn’t want your skanky ass. She’s in love with me.”

Ash was silent for a moment then she smiled, a glint in her eye. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I just thought it would be nice for you if you didn’t have to have my discards all the time.”

Enough was enough. I pounced on Ash like a tiger cub, pushing her to the ground, kicking and screaming. Before she knew what hit her, I had a clump of her hair in my hand and I was pushing her face against the ground.

“I have had enough!” I screamed. “Stop fucking with me!” I yelled each word as though it were its own proclamation. I was filled with rage and venom and years of disappointment at our relationship. This was the final blowout we had been coming to for years. She was a shitty sister, a crappy harlot who didn’t care about anyone but herself.

When I realized she wasn’t fighting back but was instead lying there laughing I realized the futility of my anger. Something about Ash wasn’t right, that’s just the bottom line. Taking her down, literally, in the garden in the middle of the night wasn’t going to change that. I stood up, dusting myself off before walking away.

“You know, Ash, I don’t know why you have to ruin this for me. Why can’t I have one girl who wants me when you so clearly have dozens?”

I didn’t wait for her reply.

*

Years ago I used to love charity galas. The ball gowns, the fancy hors d’oeuvres, the way everyone treated my family like royalty. But at the Care for Kids Charity Gala in July, I was sitting at a table in a stupid chiffon dress that made me look like a chubby sorbet, wishing I were with Shane, at her apartment, smoking dope and watching
Three’s Company
reruns. But I didn’t have a choice. Apparently Ash didn’t either because she was there too, as was Father. We were all together like old times, like we were a family, we were there watching my stepmonster receive an award for her charity work, aka spending Father’s money to do good. I didn’t know what the big deal was. It’s not like she had to do anything except write a check, but apparently that check was big enough to earn top nods for saving the children or feeding the children or some sort of verbiage about children. I wondered if the people who actually did the labor involved with the charity’s work resented her getting this award when they toiled in anonymity. God forbid the wealthy dirty more than their index finger.

Tabitha was flitting around the place, shaking hands and smiling at everyone, and Ash was at her side. They kept exchanging glances like they shared some kind of secret. The thought affected me. What kind of secrets could Ash and Tabitha share? I wanted to march over there and interrupt their reverie with my presence so that I stopped feeling like I was outside looking in. But they looked too insular, too serene and self-protected. This was clearly their element, not mine and not Father’s. Just what kind of secret did the two share? What did they know that I didn’t?

Father was in the corner, but I could see he was watching them too, scowling as well. He looked as unhappy as Tabitha and Ash looked happy. And me, well, I’ll bet I had a scowl too, though I was trying to suck it up and get the night over with.

From my corner of the room I could see Ash go back to the bar again and again. She’d had at least half a dozen martinis, best that I could tell, a quantity that would have me under the table by then. But for Ash, she just seemed louder and happier than she was at the outset. When toasts started ringing out from friends and well-wishers, I was hoping it meant the gala was starting to wind down. The silent auction was over. They were clearing the bar. The awards had been had. The deejay had shut down. Soon I could go home and call Shane.

But instead, Ash decided to toast the stepmonster, this time offering accolades at the top of her lungs. “You have an amazing fundraising acumen,” Ash said, way too loudly as Tabitha tugged on her dress and smiled at the ground. “Congratulations on being such a ball-breaker when it comes to money.”

The crowd offered up nervous laughter. Was it a joke? Should they laugh? Nobody knew. Not even me.

“And for marrying well. And for loving all us perverts out there. Right, Daddy-O?”

The crowd was astounded by Ash’s proclamations and all eyes turned from her and Tabitha to Father, whose fists were balled in anger as he stormed off. Ash walked off in a different direction, leaving me standing next to Tabitha, who attempted to regain some dignity in the moment.

“Well, who said booze and speeches don’t mix?” The crowd around her laughed, partly out of anxiety, partly due to their alcohol consumption, but mostly just for the chance to wash themselves of the very public private spectacle of my family.

Tabitha grabbed my elbow gently and whispered in my ear. “Megan, I’m worried about your sister. I think she’s using drugs, real drugs, not just marijuana. I think it’s all Cynthia’s fault. That girl is trouble.”

Suddenly, I was less angry at Ash and more worried about her. What on earth would make her lose it in a crowd like this? The old Ash, the person I knew years ago, before I went off to college, she used to worry about what people thought of her, what others said about her. She worried about where she was going in life and who she would become. And as stupid as our stepmother was, this seemed like something Tabitha got right. Ash did seem more and more troubled lately. She seemed to have no compass in life—moral or otherwise—and she was floundering.

Some sick part of me was secretly pleased.

“Can you talk with her?” Tabitha was teary eyed.

“Of course.” I meant it too. I loved my sister. I did. I just hated who she’d become as of late. And while I felt like it was she who owed me an apology and should reach out first, I was willing to be the bigger person and offer her an olive branch. Maybe if I could put an end to this sibling feud we could bridge the chasm between us and relate to one another like normal sisters.

*

Since Tabitha was the night’s woman of honor, she and I were stuck at the party another few hours. How Father and Ash got home I’m not sure, but when it was time to go, the two of us rode back in the Bentley alone.

“You looked happy there tonight,” I said, hoping to find out what was really going on behind the scenes. When Tabitha only smiled I tried a different tack. “You and Father didn’t seem to spend much time together, though.”

She turned, cocking her head as if she were evaluating how frank she could be, and smiled again. “You know your father doesn’t enjoy these types of outings. Just because I’m happy doing charity work doesn’t mean he is.”

It was a simple statement but one that felt loaded with emotional information.

“Why do you stay?” I prodded. Maybe she was sad and drunk enough to answer honestly.

“What?”

“Why do you stay married to Father? Is it the money?”

Tabitha paused, reflectively, her eyes glistening again like they did after Ash’s outburst. She was pensive and thoughtful and though she was crying now, she was still quite beautiful. What did she see in Father, a man thirty years her senior?