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“Guys and Girls at a Bar,” part 2 of the “It was supposed to be about incest” arc.
Copyright CopperSkink (or Copper’s Kink; whatever turns you on), January One, Two Thousand Ten.
All players eighteen and older, even graduated from high school.
Circa 2066 (subject to change depending on how well I organize my notes in the next several months), located in the (fictional) charming town of Rotterdale, North Carolina, halfway up the coast and about ten miles in on foot.
“Bombshell Manor” and “Tranquil Breeze Garden” are explained in previous (to be posted) chapters, so look forward to them coming out.
“Ugh…” I said to greet the morning. Someone had been so kind as to build the house to accept Eastern sunlight in the mornings, yet no blackout curtains were drawn. “Who’s packing?”
There was a little noise littered throughout the room. Both male and female, people waking up, getting dressed. There was also a warm body tucked into me, ass first, just the way I like it. Neither of us had clothes on, and the liquor had released its hold on my dick, allowing it to explore the creature’s ass.
“Breakfast in a few minutes,” someone called from outside. My eyes shot open, along with many others if I judged the complaints correctly, and once again I, along with everybody else, wished I could go back in time and shoot Newton in the head for inventing gravity. Going up was fine, but coming down was a bitch.
“Mmm… morning,” the girl tucked into me said to me. I felt her crane her neck around to kiss me, and her hand reached back to pet my cock, poking at her backside. My eyes opened, and…
“Oh hey, Beck.”
“Hey,” my little sister said back at me, finishing our kiss before peering around the room a few times. I took a look around as well.
Sam was sprawled out on the bed by himself, no surprise there. A few of the girls were in a general pile next to the bed, with Dree and Bill here or there. One more unidentified groan told me Sara had been sleeping somewhere behind me.
We all got dressed in what we came in, and we looked a pretty ridiculous bunch heading downstairs. Me and my boys in slacks, the girls in dresses that were pressed and clean and glamorous the night before with styled hair. This morning, their hair was… something. Becky looked somewhat passable with her hair just straightened, but she still looked ridiculous in her dress and heels, mingling with the remaining crowd. Sara and her adventurous criss-crossed breasts were the worst, though.
A dozen other people had stayed the night, but I learned that they were all related to the owners of the house or else they went to school at the Garden. The residents were the mothers of the headmistress of the garden, a pair of eighty-something women who thought we all looked very humorous in our dancing shoes.
Throughout breakfast, Becky was quite flirtatious with all the boys and girls at the largish table, but her naked foot was running itself along my leg all morning. The fact that I knew she wanted me and that she wanted to save our first time for something special was making me hard as shit despite all the times I came the night before. I only hoped I could keep her attention long enough to collect.
We all got home in good time, except I had to turn around and head right to classes. I missed my early one; not good. The rest went by in a rather slow blur, and I was fucking exhausted by five in the evening when I was finally free.
I dragged myself by way of the tram to Julie’s, where a stool was waiting for me.
“Wotcher, handsome,” said Jess the barmaiden with a pitcher of delicious foam for me.
I gave her a casual wave of my aching hand. Computer technology into its fifth decade, and this stupid school still has us writing with pencils.
“Down and out today?” she asked in her sultry bartender voice.
“He’s just pissed he hasn’t gotten any from a ‘special someone’,” Bill’s voice said from next to me. I hadn’t noticed him before; I popped him one on the arm.
“Aww… le povre,” she said sympathetically. “I’ll go to bed with you any time you ask, you know.”
I groaned rather than answer. Jess was a nice piece of tail, but now she just seemed like every other dolphin in the sea, especially after having fucked her already. She turned off to handle (and flirt with) someone else further down the bar.
“Don’t worry, stud, you’ll get her.”
This new voice had me puzzled. I craned my head to look down the bar past Bill, and… “Sally? What’re you doing here?”
“Drinking,” she said with some incredulity. “What’d you expect, dancing on the bar?” That voice somehow reached all the way to my testicles. Sally had been good in bed from what I had seen. Too good. It wasn’t natural.
Dree was there, moping as usual. Sam, uncharacteristically, wasn’t. He arrived a half hour later, and he seemed grumbly at the thought of sharing a bar with his sister, but soon he was drinking his problems away with the rest of us. Salamandy was loving izmir escort bayan it, chatting away a storm despite no one listening to her. She was on her phone half the time as well; he heard about half the news of the entire town relayed through her in the time it took us to get through three pitchers. It was like she had no code at all.
Then, to the surprise of some and the causal interest of others, an adorable blond with a stereotypically perky outfit pulled up a seat next to me. “Bartender!” she hollered, “Is there any beer in this place?” She then turned to me. I was already staring at her in disbelief.
“Hi!” she said warmly. “Remember me?”
I gave her a blank stare. What’s with all these woman at our bar?
“Cindy? From last night?”
“I remember,” I said somewhat modestly, though I couldn’t really tell her from her twin yet. “What’re you…”
“I heard a bunch of people were gonna be here,” she said whimsically. She distracted herself with her new beer and peanuts. “How’s it goin’?”
“Sara? Is that you?” came a rather loud noise from my right. Salamandy had surely already noticed her sister’s appearance, and the annoying effect was lost on none of us. “Where’s Cindy? I thought you two were attached at the wrist!”
Despite her rudeness, she was right. I can’t remember having ever seen the twins apart before.
“Bite me,” Cindy snarled at her sister eloquently. “So, come here often?” she turned back to me.
“More and more, it seems,” I said, still in a daze. Why was she talking to me?
In the next hour it took us to polish off two more pitchers, Salamandy and Cindy continued to dominate the conversation that took place, but Cindy only seemed interested in talking to me. She wasn’t just talking, either. Her dangling feet bumped into mine every so often, and she would accentuate what jokes she told by leaning up against me momentarily and touching me on the hand whenever I said anything to her out of sheer courtesy.
She was making me feel in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Whenever she touched me, excitement shot through my veins. I was actually getting hard from her flirting. That hasn’t happened to me since I was a freshman in high school, shortly before “The Beast” took my soul. The more she talked to me, and the more she flirted with me, the more she started to grow on me. Compared to her sister Salamandy, she had exceptionally golden hair, automatically making her seem the more adventurous and exciting of the two, but her eyes spoke of a maturity that belied her age. She was nowhere as whimsical or as silly as Sally: the things she had to say spoke more of sophistication and dignity, and she wasn’t insulting when she spoke. As I understood it, the two sisters were almost the same age, separated by only a few months. Yet where Salamandy’s future seemed to be in waiting tables, I could see Cindy running board meetings in a smart suit. She was classy.
Evening was getting mature, time for the older crowd to start coming in for dinner, which meant was time for us younger kids to head out and find some way to kill the rest of the Saturday. After we paid our compliments to the ever-attentive Jess, we turned and headed out.
Cindy caught up with me at the door before I could group up with my boys for protection, and she clutched onto my arm. “Wanna go for a walk? she asked sweetly.
I looked left and right, but everyone else was too involved in their non-involvement to notice. I was trapped.
She was already dragging me down the street off towards nowhere before I could answer. “So… what’re you doing in college?”
“I donno, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life,” I answered lamely.
“That’s cool. I don’t know either, so I think it’s a good idea to just take it easy for a few years. As long as you got a home to go home to and money from your parents to keep going to school, right?”
“Uhh… yeah.” I wasn’t used to this. I hadn’t done any dating in forever; not that I felt like I was on a date, but I’m not used to sharing with women. Had I a chunk of change in my pocket to do something with, I would’ve just lubed her up with a few smooth words on our way to a hotel room. Had she not been my boy’s sister, that is. I have rules when we’re not all in the same room.
“Sara wants to be an electrical engineer, but I can’t make heads or tails of the designs she shows me. I want to be a fashion designer, so I go talk to the people in town that have to do with fashion, you know. Mistress Melody, Granny Nikki, Leslie; that crowd.”
None of whom I’d ever met, but all three of them were names on Main Street in Downtown Rotterdale; they ran a dresses-by-order business, an art studio, and a lingerie shop respectively.
“I spend some time modeling for money, but that usually means I see more of raven-beak than I’d like to, you know what I mean…”
“Raven-beak” was the household nickname for the two black-haired girls in Sam’s house, including Salamandy, whom no one really seemed to like. It was a fitting izmir escort nickname, for as far as I knew, the rest of their brothers and sisters were all blond.
“But it’s some decent money, and you meet a few people now and then. You know?”
“Hang on,” I said, trying not to be rude, “I don’t mean to be rude, but… is there a particular reason you’re singling me out?”
She stopped dead in her tracks to shoot me a look of horror. I wasn’t buying it, so I raised my eyebrows and waiting.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I need a date to the dance, and Sara’s already taking someone.” She had dropped my arm and was standing stock-still in her sunflower sandals with her arms crossed, looking pointedly in a different direction.
“…We just had the dance,” I said obviously. “Or do you mean the high school dance? That’s like a month away.”
“That’s the Senior Ball; I mean the Garden Promenade,” she said impatiently. “So, will you go with me?”
“Why me? I thought it was, begging your pardon, Sara that had an eye on me, and you were with Bill and Drivved.”
“I donno; she said she was going with someone, and I have to go, and you seem like a nice guy, so…”
“You have to go? You sound like you don’t want to. And I thought the Garden hosted that dance from last night. And you go to Cameron anyway.”
“That was just a party,” she said impatiently. “The real dance is next week. It’s the official yearly ‘coming of age’ party for former students. Anyway, if I go, I have to have a date, and like I said, I wanted to go with Sara, but she’s taking someone, and I know you don’t have a date, so will you go with me, or not?”
“I donno; what kind of a dance is it? Is anyone else I know gonna be there?”
“A couple people; I donno… It’s like a regular school dance with food and dancing and a band. You have to wear shoes and slacks and a shirt like last night. Okay?”
I tried not to let my eyes roll. I’m used to girls tripping over themselves to get dates for a dance they absolutely had to go to, but this girl thought of it as a chore. I admit, I was intrigued.
“Why do you even want to go?”
“I owe it to my teachers,” she explained patiently. “When I went to school there, they had every kind of activity to do: Games, sports, music, drawing, pottery, whatever, and you could learn at your own pace. If you ever didn’t understand anything, there were oodles of teachers on standby to help you with whatever. By the time I got to high school, I already knew everything they taught. The only reason I go is to learn to socialize, apparently. Did you hear what happened with Drivved’s sisters?”
“Them? Didn’t they take off somewhere?”
“No; I mean, they went straight to Laurel. All three of them have doctorates, and Holly, the youngest, is hardly even eighteen. I hear all three of them got recruited to work for some space program.”
“So… what does this have to do with…?”
“Did you like high school?”
“I have to think about that for a s… no, I didn’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either. I don’t even wanna go to their stupid Senior Ball; everyone’s just gonna be off acting like sluts all night and ditch early to go get a room upstairs.”
We had gone back to walking, and she stopped us in a big park full with a children’s section full of goodies to ride on. She sat us down on a bench nearby a flock of kids enjoying themselves.
“So it’s not really my thing,” she continued, “but the Promenade at the Garden is a bit special to me. Like I said, I was just gonna go with Sara, but since she seems so busy…” I knew a woman’s fury when I heard it, “I thought maybe you’d wanna go.”
“Why her? Aren’t you supposed to take boys to dances?”
She was losing her patience. “Girls go with girls all the time; nobody cares if you’re gay or anything at the Garden.”
“But… your sister?”
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows.
“Great. Come on.” She pulled me to my feet and dragged me by the hand off to a huge house that had its back to the park.
“And we’re going…?”
“To meet my dad. We have to clear our dates with him well in advance if we want to live.”
Suddenly I found myself not wanting to meet Sam’s father, not at all.
“Look,” she said, turning me to face her, “you wanna fuck me, don’t you?”
She had turned on the charm. Carefully mascaraed eyelashes, delicate pink lipstick, and faintly rosed cheeks made her into quite the alluring young lady. Her lips were parted and she was gazing up at me with a kind of hunger. Again, I didn’t buy it. This was how I expected Salamandy to behave; Cindy and Sara seemed above this kind of nonsense. Disappointing, really
“The thought had crossed my mind,” I said honestly enough, hoping it was the right thing to say, “but haven’t we already…”
“That was Sara you were with last night. So? How about it?”
“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t mind, I mean.”
“Then act like it in front of my escort izmir dad.” She clutched me close again and pulled me to the back door of the house.
“Daddy, this is Derrick,” she said a few minutes later.
A short man with pale blond hair greeted us. He was stocky with farm-hand muscles I had come to expect from people that grew up in the Garden; from my brief time with Salamandy and her twin sisters in the buff, both were soft on the outside, but they were equally hard with polished muscle. I could easily see him as being Sampson’s father.
“Samson Campbell,” he said behind a frown and an extended hand. His little girl was clutching to me as though I was the love of her life, and I could feel his protectiveness of her when he crushed my hand in his. Strong indeed.
“Derrick invited me to the dance at the Garden,” Cindy lied. “May we go?”
“We’ll see,” he said behind a scowl. “Your sister’s waiting for you upstairs. Derrick, would you mind joining me in my office?”
Oh, shit. What the fuck has she gotten me into? But as he turned his back to lead me, Cindy flash me a winning grin and winked at me; she was expecting this. She bolted upstairs to be reunited with her twin.
I followed the man through a few rooms; I took a moment to look around. This house had a reputation for having the most children under its roof next to the Garden itself, yet there wasn’t a spot of mess anywhere. I heard Garden students learned to work their backs and keep their living spaces clean; this discipline surely leaked into this man’s house.
The final door was through the huge kitchen, where several people I didn’t recognize were amusing themselves with various concoctions. I had been half-expecting to see Sam somewhere, but to no avail. I was led through the door, and suddenly I was wishing I was back in the bar.
It stank. Burning. Chemicals. Rot. Not at all the comfortable chair I was hoping for in what was surely going to be an interview. I could see the questioning process was going to be completely painful.
“Where’re you from, son?” he asked me after offering me a seat.
“Life-long Bomb,” I said, citing the high school mascot.
He nodded noncommittally. “How long’ve you known Cindy?”
There’s a question I wasn’t prepared for. Then again, if I needed to study in advance, shouldn’t Cindy have warned me? “We just met, actually,” I said as casually as I could, but I could feel my heartbeat racing. “I’m friends with Sam; he introduced us at the dance last night.”
He scoffed. Damn. “I’ll have you know this dance isn’t like these parties you kids are used to. The Promenade takes place at Tranquil Breeze Garden, where there are no private rooms to escape to afterwords.”
“I… hadn’t even thought about it,” I stammered. Truthfully enough.
“I’m an intelligent man,” he countered. “And you, you’re how old?”
“Twenty-one, sir,” I said, trying to keep things as clean as possible.
“Then I assume you’re an intelligent man as well, and intelligent people think. But no matter what you may or may not be thinking, my daughter is still in high school, and she still lives under my roof. Need I expound?”
The rest of the conversation went on like that. It never got easy; the questions themselves weren’t hard, but I felt embarrassed when I couldn’t tell him what my plans for the future were or when I had to tell him I was still living at home with no graduation in sight and no career lined up. No matter what my answers were, he never flinched.
“Have you ever been to the Garden?” was his next question. Something I didn’t expect.
“No, but I’ve heard about it.”
“You may have come to understand that its former students who attend Cameron High aren’t exactly in need of the education they offer there?”
“Cindy said something about that, yeah.”
“It’s a social experiment, you see,” he explained. “They don’t do much teaching at high schools; it’s more of a way to keep young people off the streets and out of trouble for the majority of the day. They also learn social behavior before they get dumped into what we like to refer to as ‘the real world’.
“I decided to install my children into high school for this experience; wheres others… you know Timber?”
“Drivved’s brother, right?”
Samson nodded, “My son with Drivved’s mother. She chose not to put her five in high school; Timber, being my eldest, tended toward her influence. Tell me, what is your view of ‘the real world’?”
I had to think for a minute. “It sucks,” I said after exactly one minute.
“Exactly. The Garden is not like this. People treat one-another with respect. Everyone works hard towards a common goal, and everyone achieves his or her own dreams through cooperation, and everyone takes their fair share of cleaning up after everyone else.
The Senior Ball hosted by Cameron High is for the seniors to engage in rather unscrupulous behavior as a reward for their year-long unscrupulous behavior. At the Garden, the Promenade is more of a dignified gathering of those who live to be eighteen. There are teachers from both the Garden and from Cameron as well as professors from Laurel, and there are parents.
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