Authors: Ellen Harper
“Right,” I said, nodding. “We’ll be mature about this and do the right thing.”
“I’m glad we agree,” Dom replied. “And thank you for dinner, it was incredible. Should we make any snacks for the people coming over tomorrow?”
“Um,” I hesitated. “I can make some appetizers, sure. Who else were you thinking of asking?”
“Probably a few art people,” he said, rubbing his chin with a hand. “But not Seth, I promise you. He’s not even allowed near the property.”
“Thanks,” I said, nodding in gratitude. Right before Dom and I made up, we’d gone to a gallery opening. I’d been mad to see him flirting with the wife of one of his colleagues, and stalked off to the bar. This really hot guy, Seth, and I hit it off and went outside to take a walk, but he wouldn’t keep his hands off me. Just as I was starting to get worried, Dom had predictably come to my rescue. Later, I’d found that Seth was a huge slut in the art world, and was known for taking advantage of intoxicated women. I shuddered, remembering how scared I’d been when my initial attraction turned to fear. He was so beautiful and charming; why did he need to be so aggressive?
“Is there anyone you can think of?”
I grimaced. “Please don’t ask too many of your meathead high school friends. I can take Ryan, but not a whole fucking baseball team.”
Dom laughed. “Michelle, Ryan’s much nicer now. He’s an accountant, he’s really settled down.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right,” I said. “I don’t believe it. Not if he’s dating that skank.”
“Hey,” Dom frowned at me. “You don’t have to be rude to everyone who you think is inferior to you, okay? She’s probably really nice and really smart.”
“Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes. I got up from the table and cleared the dishes away. There was a finality to acknowledging the meal was over, like acknowledging that we were over, too. It was painful, and I looked back at Dom, trying to see if he felt the same way. It was so hard talking about my feelings with him, even now, but maybe we’d be able to be close one day. When we both moved on, that is. “This sucks,” I admitted flatly, putting my hands on the counter.
“It does,” he agreed. “But we’re adults, remember? Adults usually try to do the right thing, the thing that isn’t going to fuck up any lives. I couldn’t live with people being cruel to you because of our situation, Michelle. It’s much easier like this.”
“I’m going to trust you when you say it’s the right thing,” I replied. “Because it feels so incredibly wrong right now.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But we have to try.”
Even though I went to bed feeling a little better about our situation, by the time I woke up, I was ready for things to go back to the way they had before. It was crazy to realize that we’d only been proper lovers for a few days. High school didn’t count; mature, adult Dom blew adolescent Dom out of the water. I knew that I’d never be able to forget how passionate and kinky our lovemaking had been. It made me blush to think of what we’d done, and I had a feeling that nothing in the future would live up to what had transpired between us over these last few days.
Dom locked himself in his room painting all day, and I tried to normalize what was happening.
This is my step-brother
, I’d say if I heard his footsteps on the ceiling.
We had sex, but now we’re trying to be normal.
I figured that with time, maybe it would get to be habit. But for now, all I could think of when I heard Dom was his hands on my body, his hoarse voice in my ear, ordering me to come. I fantasized about breaking into his room, tearing down his pants and giving him the most amazing blowjob he’d ever had. He’d be so taken that he wouldn’t be able to resist me. I hated that I wasn’t able to seduce him the way he could so easily seduce me, but it did inspire me to practice. Maybe someday, it wouldn’t matter what our parents thought. Sandy was a hippie anyway; maybe she’d wind up influencing my dad?
With a growing sense of dread, I hung out in the kitchen making crudités and watching reruns of bad television. Dom stayed in his room all day; I brought him a platter of snacks and left it outside the door. When I went to check later, they were still there. Around 7, I went upstairs to take a shower. Dom was humming and singing in his room, and I could hear his footsteps moving around in a rhythm.
Is he really painting or is he just avoiding me?
I wondered, cursing myself for being pessimistic.
Once I was dressed and ready and had set out the food, Dom bounded down the stairs. He was wearing a black shawl-collar sweater and a pair of black trousers and looked sleekly sexy. I smiled at him, blushing. “You look nice,” I offered, biting my lip.
“Thanks, so do you,” he said, sounding more formal than he had since the wedding. “Thanks for the snacks, by the way.” He handed me an empty plate. “That hit the spot.”
“Well you were locked up all day,” I joked, but the words came out flat. Dom looked away, just as the doorbell rang. He hopped up from the stairs and ran over, throwing open the door and bear hugging whoever was standing outside. From the cheerful hooting and backslapping, I guessed it wasn’t art people.
“Michelle, come say hi to Ryan and Desi,” Dom said, sticking his head back in the kitchen. “They brought some wine!”
“Thanks,” I said, sticking my head into the doorway. Dom was hugging an even-taller brunette guy, who had his arm around Desiree/Joanne. She smirked at me and I rolled my eyes. “Nice to see y’all,” I said, nodding.
“Are you sure we went to high school together?” Ryan asked, looking at me with careful scrutiny. “You don’t look familiar.”
“She was quiet in school,” Desire said in a droll voice, unfastening her pink leather jacket and tossing it on the couch. She handed me a bottle of chilled white wine. “I hope you know how to open this,” she added, stalking out of the kitchen.
The three of them sat in the living room laughing, while I unscrewed the wine and poured us glasses. Desiree was lounging with her bare feet on the couch, in Ryan’s lap, and Dom was sitting in my dad’s favorite easy chair. I brought them their wine just as the doorbell rang again.
Even though I was pretty sure Dom wouldn’t have lied to me about inviting more people, I definitely recognized a lot of jocks from high school. I figured that Ryan (or Desiree) had said something and the word got out. It was getting hot and loud in our house, and I hadn’t even had a chance to sit down and drink my wine. Not surprisingly, all the people there just gravitated to Dom. By the time the doorbell had stopped ringing continuously, there had to be over 25 people in our house. I opened a few windows, fanning myself in the humid air of the room. Someone had lit a joint and the skunky smell permeated the living room, making me feel faint.
Dom was still perched in his chair like a king, but Desire had spread out over Ryan’s lap. She was deep in conversation with some people I recognized from the art gallery; they were talking about adult modeling and nudes. I rolled my eyes; it would be just like her to talk about herself being naked all the time.
“What are you working on?” I heard a familiar voice over my shoulder. I watched as Dom grinned, then leaped up in his chair.
“George!” He said enthusiastically, pulling the older man into a hug. I rolled my eyes.
Great
, I thought. George was Dom’s mentor, and Dom had slept with his wife before. I knew that because I’d met them both at the gallery the night I met Seth. I hoped Anya wasn’t lurking around; I couldn’t smell her spicy, musky perfume anywhere.
“So, what is the master completing now?” George poured himself a glass of brandy from my dad’s liquor cabinet, sitting down and keeping his eyes on Dom. He flicked his gaze over Desiree before settling down and relaxing.
“A painting of a good friend,” Dom said smoothly, sitting back down and gesturing to me. “Michelle, you remember George, right?”
“Of course,” I replied, forcing a smile. I sat down opposite from George and watched as Desire writhed on Ryan’s lap, clearly in a heated discussion about her own work.
“Michelle, what a pleasure,” George said in a grandiose voice, taking my hand up and kissing it. “You’re quite the entertainer.”
“Not really,” I blushed. “This is my dad’s house. And Sandy’s house now, too, I guess.”
George smiled, kindly. “But the crudités!” He feigned shock. “Where did you learn to cook?”
I blushed again; despite my hatred of his wife, George was very charming. I could see how older women would fall all over him.
“George just started a series of collages,” Dom told me, taking a gulp of wine. I noticed that his face looked flushed and red, and couldn’t keep my mind off how handsome he was. I wanted him to get drunk and forget everything he had promised. I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted more than that, I wanted-
“Michelle,” George interrupted my train of thought, looking as handsome as ever. “Tell me about you, I want to hear everything.”
I flushed again, somehow aware that George was in on the secret between Dom and myself. I didn’t want Dom to pick up on it, but maybe George was the one person he wouldn’t mind knowing. After all, how many times had Dom tried to explain to me in depth how different the art world was?
And so I told him everything that I could think of, except for about how I love fucking my stepbrother. George patiently hung on my every word, nodding and gesturing at all the appropriate times, offering condolences or commiseration when appropriate. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dom watching us from his perch, carefully eyeing me to make sure I wouldn’t say anything. It was almost insulting, and after a few minutes, he thankfully directed his attention elsewhere.
George kept me talking for hours, and to my surprise, I was really enjoying myself. It took me a while to catch on, but I realized that George had been refilling my wine glass the entire time. By the time some of the people were leaving the party, I was feeling pretty drunk. Suddenly, it didn’t matter so much that Desiree had been a bitch to me, or Ryan just acted like he didn’t even know who I was. All I could think about was Dom and the desire building in my lower belly.
Before much longer, most of our guests had cleared out. I was left with Dom, George, Ryan, and Desiree. Dom and Ryan had been catching up for hours; I heard them mention familiar names from high school as they laughed and joked. Even though Dom had grown up a lot and looked so much more mature, part of him was still the same old Dom from high school. I felt a small inkling of distaste clash with my obvious desire for him.
George turned towards me and smiled kindly, before he excused him for a few minutes. Left alone with Desiree, Dom, and Ryan, I assumed that they’d make an effort to include me in the conversation. Desiree looked as bored as I did, and as I was watching, she gave an enormous sigh.
“Baby,” she whined, tugging at Ryan’s sleeve. “I wanna go home.”
“You haven’t talked to George yet,“ Ryan said, lightly peeling her fingers off his arm. Desiree pouted, but she didn’t argue, and suddenly I was feeling confused.
“Wait,” I said, staring at her. “You know George already?” I couldn’t believe that someone who had turned out to be as nice and cool as George was acquainted with Desiree. She seemed like such a snot. Even though his wife was a bitch, at least, I had to admit that she was talented.
“Duh.” Desiree rolled her eyes. “He takes my picture sometimes.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. “For your portfolio, yeah, I get it.”
“No,” she snapped, gulping the rest of her wine and cracking open a new bottle. Dom and Ryan looked at her nervously, but didn’t intervene. “We work together.”
“Oh,” I said again, feeling stupid. Of course they’d worked together. Just because George was nice and funny didn’t make him immune to her charms. As I stared at her, I started to feel sick. She’d switched into a funny story and Ryan and Dom were laughing hysterically, captivated by her charm. It was hard not to feel resentful of someone who looked so physically perfect and who could manage to be so funny.
“So,” I heard George call as he strode into the room, gazing at the four of us. “Who wants to hear about my next project?”
“The body paint one?” Desiree squeaked and I cringed as George nodded.
“Yup,” he said proudly. “That’s the one.”