Open Your Legs for my Family (3 page)

“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.

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?

He grins – a sudden upturn of his mood. “Now
we have a barbecue to attend.”

“A barbecue?”

“Yes. Down by the beach. A little family
affair.”

He goes to my closet. A closet I haven’t
delved into because I haven’t unpacked. He flings two of the doors
ajar and opens a drawer. He takes out a couple of items and turns
back to me.

“I want you to wear these.” His voice is
husky.

I gingerly take the little strip of
synthetic material he hands me.

“I’ll help you get into them. But first.” He
holds up two small silvery balls that are connected to each other
with a silken thread.

“What are these?”

For answer, he pushes me gently down onto
the bed. I’m dressed in a baby doll nightie, all frills and lace,
the way I know he likes me. My panties are white cotton. He lifts
the hem of my nightie and slowly pulls down my panties. I’m on an
emotional rollercoaster today, but the way he slides the thin
cotton scrap off my hips and down my thighs makes a hollow
sensation flower inside my vagina. A spool of cream starts to
trickle inside of me as he passes the fabric over my knees,
caressing the soft skin of my inner thighs as he does so.

My lips part with aching desire.

He discards my panties onto the floor and
spreads my legs.

“Ohhh,” I moan, wishing he would bend his
head down and lick my clit.

“Not right now, baby,” he says. “We have a
barbecue to go to. But you need to wear these.”

His strong fingers open my pussy lips as
wide as they would go to reveal my puckering vulva. The cool
air-conditioning kisses the folded nub of my clit. Max inserts the
two silver balls into my vagina, one followed by the other. The
balls are just large enough to stretch my pussy walls so that their
cold presence is felt. The thread dangles outside my body.

“Nice?” he says.

“Nice,” I agree.

He gives me his hand to help me up. Inside
my vaginal passage, the balls clink and roll.

“What are they?” I ask.

“Ben Wa balls. Take off your clothes.”

As I straighten myself, the balls roll down
towards the mouth of my pussy, weighted by gravity.

“Oooh,” I squeak, clenching my pelvic
muscles to hold them in.

“That’s right.” Max grins. “You’ll have to
keep on doing that to hold them inside.”

I loosen my vaginal muscles. The balls roll
down again, stopping just before the opening of my vulva. I quickly
tighten my muscles again.

“It’s really good for strengthening your
pussy,” Max says slyly has he helps me peel off my baby doll
nightie.

He makes me face the mirror in the dresser.
I’m naked, with just the loop end of the silken thread peeping from
my pussy. My eyes are wide in my innocent-looking face and I
realize how young I seem. My breasts are high in my chest. My
nipples are large and red. My pussy is shaven clean and devoid of
pubic hair bristles, the way Max likes it.

“You’re so beautiful, babe,” Max says,
nuzzling my neck. His hands grope my tits. In the mirror, he’s a
blond Adonis, more splendid than anything I have ever seen.

He helps me put on my beachwear. It’s a
yellow sling bikini. The significance of that color is not lost on
me. The sling is looped behind my neck, and the two slender ribbons
of material are strung tightly down my torso, revealing three
quarters of my areolas. My erect nipples strain prominently against
the synthetic fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. My red
areolas flower around their barely-there casings.

Further downward, the yellow ribbons taper
to a narrow common point which shields only the bottom half of my
clitoris. The top halves of my clit and pussy lips are bared in
pretty much the way a chest cleavage is revealed. Behind, the
ribbons gather in a string that buries itself snugly in between my
jostling buttock cheeks. This is connected to a horizontal string
that straddles my hips.

When the entire ensemble is complete, the
crotch of Max’s jeans is tented. His hand fumbles at his zipper.
With the Ben Wa balls squishing in my pussy juices and my own stark
image in the mirror, I’m pretty stimulated myself.

“Oh Max, please fuck me,” I plead, leaning
against the mirror,

He presses his mouth to mine. A long-drawn,
intimate, tongue-filled kiss.

“Later,” he says in a throaty voice. He
grabs my arm. “Come on. Let’s go down to the beach.”

I hesitate. “Wait. You mean you want me to
go down to meet your family . . . wearing this?”

I had thought this outfit was for our
private sexual play in the bedroom.

His expression is stoic, although the
corners of his mouth threaten to curl. “Yes.”

“Won’t they be . . . shocked?” I can already
picture the stoniness on Alice’s perfect features.

The blood is rushing to my cheeks.

“Of course they would. That’s exactly the
effect we’re aiming for.” His hand squeezes my right buttock. “Come
on, Gina. It’ll be fun, I promise you. You’re going to love every
minute of it.”

5

The beach in question is right below the
cliff – an inlet of white sand so fine that my bare feet sink into
it with each step. Twilight has fallen. The ocean is a mere twenty
feet away at high tide, an inferno of frothing spray and white
spumes. The roar of the waves almost drowns out the laughter of the
twins and Alice playing beach volleyball.