Punishment With Kisses Part 2

"As.h.!.+" I'd been at the club for fifteen minutes, nursing a five-dollar PBR in a velvet pleather booth while 90s music pulsated the walls around me, and I'd already heard that exclamation half a dozen times.

Since when did I look like my sister? Sober, no one had ever mistaken us, but maybe when someone was drunk enough that their ability to discriminate was lost and the world had turned a little blurry, maybe in that situation, I looked like my sister. I decided to level the playing field and over the next five minutes downed a couple more beers so that when the next woman grabbed me, happy to see my sister, I'd be ready to play along. That'd show Ash. I didn't need to tag around with her when I could be her.

"Yeah, baby?" I replied to the next siren call, and a pair of strong hands on my shoulders spun me around.

It made me a little light-headed. I giggled and put my arms out to stabilize myself and found my hands groping a butch-looking Filipino woman with short hair who was towering over me, her freckled face twisted into a glare.

"What the f.u.c.k are you doing here?" she spat in my face before my smile had a chance to fade. "Haven't you ruined enough lives?"

I was flummoxed by the allegation and quite honestly terrified. I'd never been in a bar brawl in my life, but I'd heard that fights could break out any minute in dive and d.y.k.e establishments, and I wasn't interested in being thrown through a plate gla.s.s window or having a bar stool busted over my head. My one and only fistfight happened my soph.o.m.ore year of high school when Melissa McMichael sent me across the room with a quick right hook that broke my jaw, which had to be stapled shut for six weeks, during which time I lost all that unsightly baby fat. Come to think of it, without that broken jaw I may never have gotten a prom date. Still, I had no interest in experiencing fisticuffs again.

"I think you've me mistaken for someone else," I offered quietly. "I don't know you."

"You might not know me, Ashley, but I know you and you sure as f.u.c.k know my girlfriend, Kristy. You f.u.c.king tramp."

d.a.m.n. This was the kind of thing that could take all the fun out of impersonating Ash. I'd take the adoration, but I refused to be tormented for doing someone I didn't have the pleasure of doing. I hoped to calm the handsome stranger with rationality. "I'm sorry, I'm not Ashley. I'm her sister Megan-"

"f.u.c.k you, you lying wh.o.r.e."

She was spitting mad. Her language was almost as filthy as Ash's. I was scared witless.

"You stole my girlfriend. Did you know that? She dumped me. We were going to get married next month until she just dumped me. She broke my heart. I couldn't work, I lost my job. I lost my f.u.c.king dignity. All because of you. You ruined everything."

"Look." I held my hands up in front of me, palms facing her, as though she could read them and know I spoke the truth. "I'm not Ashley, I swear. Want to see my ID?"

In response, the woman c.o.c.ked her arm back and started to take a swing. Everything decelerated. It was as though we were characters in a slow motion fight sequence. Everyone stopped dancing and talking and they were all staring at us, waiting for that fist to connect with my jaw. A dozen thoughts raced through my head. Duck. The first rule of fight club is: Don't talk about fight club. Do lesbian bar fights have the same rules? I don't want to drink from a straw again. If she breaks my nose, maybe the repair job will look better than the original. Who's Kristy and why did she leave this woman for Ash when Ash would never offer anything as tangible as marriage? What would Ash do if she were here? Would she even care that I'm about to be pummeled in a bar brawl because of her? What will Father say if I get arrested?

Caught up in my own thoughts, I did nothing to prevent her fist from rearranging my face, when in a moment of uncharacteristic luck, her right hook was intercepted by a rather stunning but disheveled brunette, who repelled the fist, pus.h.i.+ng it aside, while pulling me into an embrace. Even though we were in an impending bar brawl, being pinned against her taut body made mine p.r.i.c.kle in places I didn't know had nerve endings.

The rest of the night was something I promised myself I would record for posterity in my diary. I know that makes me sound like a giddy schoolgirl, but honestly, I felt like something wholly significant and amazing happened. Suddenly everything changed.

First, I was rescued from a certain beating by an enigmatic stranger and then Shane-that was my gallant rescuer's name-set me on the back of her motorcycle and we drove off into the sunset. Seriously, it happened just like a hokey Harlequin romance, except the knight in s.h.i.+ning armor was a d.y.k.e in s.h.i.+ning leather, and her mighty steed was a tricked-out Harley. Also, I wasn't much of a princess.

On the back of Shane's bike, the engine reverberated through my crotch and vibrated throughout my entire body until even my teeth were chattering along. To keep from falling off, I wrapped my arms tightly under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and held on for dear life. The ride was exciting enough. I could have stayed behind her on that bike for hours, but before I knew it we were at a park fumbling around in the darkness.

I felt a bit foolish at first, until we smoked a bowl of weed, and soon we were lying in each other's arms on the banks of Lake Oswego, talking and kissing for so long that we were still there hours later when the sun began to rise.

Everything about Shane was fascinating. She was beautiful and smart and dark and sarcastic. A poet and performance artist with a rebellious streak and a sensitive side. Shane's mother and father, both drug addicts, split when she was two. She bounced back and forth between them until running away at fourteen. She'd been on her own since then, sometimes selling drugs to get by. She'd had a number of lovers but never a real girlfriend. Her number one goal in life, she said, was to find true love.

I'm not sure if I was a sucker for a romantic story or if it was just the rush of feelings from that evening, but I wanted Shane so badly. She waited for me, just talking, drawing me out, never making a move until I was practically begging for it. After a couple of hours of talk, my body was just aching for that first kiss, and by the time I leaned in for it, I wanted to explode. The kiss was warm, soft, wet, unforgiving. I melted into it as though Shane was a part of me, and before I knew it I had taken her hand and shoved it inside my panties. I was wet and full and she parted me with her fingers like a locksmith with a deadbolt. She was in and out of my c.u.n.t, twisting me up in pa.s.sion before I could think, and soon her head was down there too, her tongue lapping at the sides of my c.l.i.t, teasing me for what seemed like hours before giving in to my desire. I couldn't wait for her though. I tore at my own s.h.i.+rt, pulling my bra straps aside and pointing my nipples into the early morning air. I would have lapped them up myself if my tongue could reach, but instead I used my fingers to twist and ma.s.sage them while Shane licked and lapped, all the while still moving her hand in and out of me.

Just thinking about it in retrospect makes me want to o.r.g.a.s.m like I did that night, over and over, each time crying out and pus.h.i.+ng her back, unsure whether I could take yet another la pet.i.te mort.

It was nearing sunup when we finished, too exhausted to go on but still eager for each other's bodies. Shane wanted me to come back to her place, but I couldn't. I already knew I'd incur Father's wrath over our mandatory "family" breakfast by staying out all night, and suddenly I felt awkwardness too. A bit of embarra.s.sment at having let this relative stranger inside me so much, literally and metaphorically. As my body was flushed and weak, almost heightened from being stimulated for hours, my mind was racing with a mixture of emotions-excitement and guilt tops among them. I had Shane rush me back to my car in hopes I could make it back to the estate before Father was up for his usual coffee, half grapefruit, and Wall Street Journal breakfast ritual.

I was successful, to a point. When I got to the house, I ran to the door and discovered the house was still relatively dark. Unfortunately, my keys were missing. My whole bag was missing, actually. Thinking I left it at the lake, I began looking for some other way to get into the house without alerting the inhabitants. I tried the other doors, the windows, even the back gate, all of which were locked. Probably because Father is a security freak who thinks people are trying to steal our stuff at all times. Fortunately, as I started to hunch down by the front door, frustration welling up in the corner of my eyes, Maria opened the door.

"Oh, Miss Caulfield, you scare me," Maria said in startled, broken English. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, yes, I just got locked out and didn't want to wake anyone. Is Father up?"

"No, Senor Caulfield has not risen today. I'm preparing breakfast." She pointed to the newspaper on the stoop. Of course, Father doesn't even get his own newspaper off the porch.

"Great. Let's keep this between us." I grabbed her and pecked her cheek, an impulsive thank you for keeping my secret.

Maria seemed bemused. She probably knew what a hard-a.s.s Father could be more than anyone.

Flush with my s.e.xual conquest, I put on my bikini and marched down to the pool. Screw Cynthia and Ash, I thought. It was my pool, too. I wasn't going to let our spat the other day force me back into the imprisonment of the house. I didn't need Ash's invitation or permission, not that day, not when I was emboldened by my night of pa.s.sion.

Ash and her friends were already out by the pool. Their conversation went from a loud chatter to hushed whispers. Geesh, she couldn't even share a f.u.c.king conversation with me? G.o.d, some days I hated my sister.

I ignored them, spreading my towel out across one of the lounges before ma.s.saging some sunscreen onto my skin. I finally muttered my h.e.l.los a few minutes later, while I was dipping my toes in the surprisingly cold water. Normally I'd spend a half hour slowly wading in deeper and deeper, gradually getting used to the temperature, but not that day. I tossed a pool mattress in the water, held my breath and dove in. It was shocking. Any element of sophistication I might have displayed was quickly undermined by my ungainly struggles to board the floatation device. Every time I'd capture it and try to shove it under my a.s.s, I would end up falling over backward splas.h.i.+ng and sputtering while the mattress popped up on the other side of me, rising like a missile from the water. I finally managed to flop my body onto the float with all the gracefulness of a sea lion flinging itself onto a dock. I lay there panting, so loud that I almost drowned out the commotion of Ash yelling over my head at some newcomer. My back was to the gate and I didn't even bother turning to look at what was sure to be another of Ash's conquests-why would I care who she's whoring around with now? But I couldn't help overhear her tantrum.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Ash was practically yelling. "I told you I don't want to see you again. I can't believe you've come to my home."

"But-"

"No buts, a no is a no, you got that?"

"It's not what you think. I'm here for Megan."

Ash cut the woman off again, but this time the voice had a tint of familiarity to it so I swirled around on my pool mattress just in time to see Shane standing there, red-faced, holding my purse.

d.a.m.n. For some reason it had never occurred to me that even my one-night stand might know Ash. It was a crus.h.i.+ng blow. My knight in s.h.i.+ning armor had already been her knight, had already been in her. I was always second, never number one. Maybe that's why Shane had noticed me, what she'd liked about me, what attracted her to me, my resemblance to Ash, however slight. Oh, my G.o.d, what if she was just with me because Ash told her no and I was as close as she could get to the real thing?

I felt the heat flus.h.i.+ng my cheeks and wanted to disappear. I was frozen in place, afraid to move for fear I'd catapult myself back into the water. Then I could feel all eyes on me and I decided maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. In fact, I wished I could just melt right there like the wicked witch of the Wizard of Oz. As a liquid I'd run right off the mattress and become indistinguishable from the water around me. Before I could process it all though, Shane shoved my handbag at Ash and turned and ran.

"Wait, Shane!" I shouted, trying gallantly to go after her but instead just falling off my float and ruining whatever decorum I had left. By the time I swam out of the pool, climbing up the stairs at the shallow end and bridling at Ash's malevolent demeanor, Shane had sped off on her bike and I was livid.

"You c.u.n.t!" I yelled at Ash. Perhaps the first time in my life I had called another woman by that name. It seemed the most apt that day. "I can't believe you think everyone is here for you. What a freakin' narcissist you are. Just because you can fill this pool with your toadies, mostly because you're such a wh.o.r.e, doesn't mean the world revolves around you, Ashley!"

I drew out the name like it was two different words: Ash Lee. I knew she hated her given name, long abandoning it in favor of the androgynous Ash, her favorite character from a movie, too. Calling her a wh.o.r.e wouldn't bother her, but calling her by her girlish name might.

"Listen, child, don't kid yourself. Shane is sloppy seconds, babes. She's only with you because she can't have me."

My hand flew at her face as though on its own accord. I watched it slap her across the cheek and was certain that the shock in her eyes was mirrored in my own. I had never before raised my fist to her, and I was as surprised as she was by my reaction.

Ash had quick reflexes and she caught my hand by the wrist before I could pull it away. "d.a.m.n, Magpie," she sneered, using my childhood nickname to patronize me. "You want her so bad, you can have her. Shane's a loser dope fiend I sent packing. You want my rejects, kiddo, you go right ahead."

"f.u.c.k you, Ashley. Maybe you were just her practice round," I shouted, yanking my arm from her grip. "Shane likes me for me, not me because I look like you!"

"You trying to convince me or yourself?" Her words cut me with their accuracy.

But I was like a runaway train and I couldn't stop. "And we both know I sure as s.h.i.+t don't act like you."

"Whatever." Ash drew the word out into additional syllables. She was so blithe. Her nonchalance infuriated me and I wanted to strike out physically. But Ash had just volleyed back demeaning one-offs, as though I wasn't even worth a full argument. And though her cheek was bright red where I'd slapped her, and it must have stung, she hadn't even flinched. Something about that frightened me.

Suddenly I was biting back tears. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry, so I s.n.a.t.c.hed my purse from her hands and dashed off headed toward the house.

"I wonder if she f.u.c.ks like you?" I heard Cynthia say as I rushed past.

Ash laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

They both cackled like hens as I darted out of earshot.

Chapter Five.

I no longer cared about my sister and her little s.e.x games. I had my own play toy in the dark, foreboding Shane. We started rendezvousing more and more, sometimes at her apartment in the city, other times at the estate, hidden in the east wing where Father and Tabitha couldn't hear. Each encounter left me breathless in antic.i.p.ation for the next.

"What's this one?" I was playing connect the scars on her body, languis.h.i.+ng 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 s.e.x, 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 m.u.f.fled 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 G.o.d, c'mon! Bobby Jenson pushed me off my bike in fourth grade." All the blood in my body had rushed to my c.u.n.t, 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 c.u.n.t. She thrust it forcefully in and out of me, flicking along my c.l.i.t with each new shove. As greedy and demanding as her tongue seemed, it propelled me to o.r.g.a.s.m within minutes. But Shane wasn't ready to stop there.

As I lay spent on my bed, hoping to G.o.d n.o.body heard me shriek when I came, Shane shuffled about the room and came back with a purple marbled d.i.l.d.o 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 d.i.l.d.o 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 t.i.ts 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 o.r.g.a.s.m 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d. You scared me."

"Maybe that's your guilt talking."

"Shut the f.u.c.k up. I don't know what your problem is." Ash had picked a c.r.a.p 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 s.e.x 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 f.u.c.king 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 d.a.m.n sick of you trying to get me going over this. I know for a fact that Shane doesn't want your s.k.a.n.ky a.s.s. 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, pus.h.i.+ng 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 pus.h.i.+ng her face against the ground.

"I have had enough!" I screamed. "Stop f.u.c.king 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 relations.h.i.+p. This was the final blowout we had been coming to for years. She was a s.h.i.+tty sister, a c.r.a.ppy 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.