Selene had wondered about her sister. When the two of them were alone, Amanda just wouldn’t stop talking about her new boyfriend. How wonderful he was, how sexy. She would sigh and get a dreamy look on her face like they were both still teenagers, crushing on their Social-Studies teacher.
When she’d finally met Enrique, the weirdness only deepened: in his presence chatty Amanda became, well, the word that occurred to Selene was “docile”, which seemed like a weird way to describe any person, let alone her effusive sister. But it was true: they’d gone out to dinner, and sat in one of those half-circle booths, Enrique across from Selene and Amanda in the middle. Selene had grilled the new beau in the way of protective older sisters, and Enrique had smiled a very handsome smile and deftly deflected all her attempts to learn what he was about. The whole time Amanda just sat there quietly, eyes on her food, occasionally looking up at Enrique, smiling, blushing, and then averting her gaze. She hadn’t really looked at or spoken to Selene at all.
Selene wondered about her sister, until she went over to her house to return the purse Amanda had left in her car. Her sister had answered the phone, but Enrique opened the door. He was dressed the same way he’d been at dinner the previous night, like maybe he’d slept over and didn’t have a change of clothes. His smile as he invited Selene in had lost none of its wattage, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she moved past him into the house. Amanda was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Mandy?” It felt wrong to call her sister by the juvenile nickname they’d used when they were girls, but maybe it was Selene’s protectiveness asserting itself. There was just something off about this handsome enigma of a man, and Selene needed to find out what it was.
“She’s in the bedroom, just getting everything prepared.”
Selene turned and looked at him. She wasn’t sure what expression was on her face. “Uh… is this a bad time? I just wanted to drop off her purse…”
“No, no. This is just fine. Relax, Selene.” Enrique smiled. “Just have a seat. You can leave Amanda’s purse on the table. We’ll go see her in a moment.”
Selene sat, adjusting the chair nervously; it put her back to Enrique, and that felt strange. It was also strange how he’d so casually told her where to sit and where to leave Amanda’s purse in a house that wasn’t his. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in his voice like this was his place and she was intruding.
She stiffened when he put his hands on her shoulders. But his touch was gentle, and as he stroked the back of her neck Selene relaxed despite herself.
“Sssshhh. Be quiet, Selene. Just relax. You’re so tense! You do know how to relax, don’t you?”
She did. Her shoulders were slumping, and her head felt heavy. Something in the way Enrique moved his hands was turning her to jello, and while alarm bells were ringing in her head they were deep beneath the surface of some warm, soothing blanket, a dark liquid layer that was wrapping itself around her mind.
“I… can.. reeelaaaax…”
Selene couldn’t really hear her response through the deepening lake in which her brain was sinking, but Enrique’s words made their way through. He was rubbing her temples now, and her eyes had rolled all the way back into her head.
Kissing Enrique was so hot, so wonderful… his hand was still firm on the back of her neck, his touch still pouring the black sticky oil that coated and corrupted her every thought. Selene didn’t remember when they’d moved into the bedroom, but that didn’t matter. Only the things Enrique told her mattered, and everything else was fading further and further from existence. Selene didn’t notice the crackle of the fireplace, and she didn’t notice her sister kneeling beside them, stroking Enrique’s cock with no thought for anything except pleasing the man who was her world. Who was Selene’s world.
The man who now owned both Amanda and her sister.