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My heart literally melted, and my horror-stricken eyes slowly filled with understanding.
“I got a vasectomy when I was seventeen,” I told her. “It was stupid, and I lied on my paperwork telling them I was twenty-one.”
“Why?” she whispered, turning to face me, her back on the opposite wall of the tub.
“Because it seemed like the thing to do at the time,” I replied, not having a good answer to offer her.
“That’s sad.” She looked at me with haunted eyes. “But, if your life was anything like mine, I could see why you’d want to do something like that.”
I shrugged.
“It wasn’t so bad once I was seventeen. When I was sixteen and younger, though…well, let’s just say that life could’ve been better,” I said, picking her foot up and bringing it over into my lap.
Wink’s feet flexed, and her soft little toes grazed the top of my dick.
“I was nearly raped when I was four by my mother’s boyfriend,” Wink broke the silence.
My hand on her foot tightened nearly to the point of causing her pain, and she pulled the appendage away from me, sticking it back under the bubbles.
“When I was seven, I was taken away from my mother and placed in a state funded foster home,” she continued. “When I was nine, I ran away from there because my foster father liked the money he got for taking in foster kids, but didn’t like using that money to take care of them. My best friend, Shane, and I ran away and didn’t come back. We lived on the streets until we were ten when we were caught by cops and returned to the foster system. This time, luckily, not to that same home.”
When I stayed silent, she continued without needing to be prompted.
“It was the best thing that could have happened for me and Shane. We were placed in a home that was located about twenty miles outside of Dallas. There, we learned to ride horses, take care of ourselves and just be kids,” she said the last part so softly that I almost didn’t hear her.
“You sound like you got lucky there at the end,” I observed.
Her eyes tilted up to me, and she smiled. “That’s where I met my other best friend, Mattie.”
I smiled.
I knew all of this. Not the running on the streets part for an entire year at the age of nine, but the fact that, from the age of ten on, she grew up in a foster home where she was loved and appreciated. What she didn’t know, though, was that I’ve known of her for a very long time. Way longer than her employ with me.
“Mattie, Shane, and I were like three peas in a pod. We spent all of our waking hours together, and grew up to be very similar. Shane works with metal, just like me. Although, he’s a lot better at it than I am.” She smiled. “Mattie is a photographer, but where I specialize in portraits, she is a newspaper photographer. She works for the Dallas Times.”
I knew that, too.
I knew everything there was to know about Wink.
I’d watched her sculpt her metal sculptures before we were an ‘us.’ For hours, I’d look through the small window of her studio and watch as sweat dripped down her chest, arms, and neck.
The sculptures that she’d created were beautiful, but they were nothing compared to the woman creating them.
Wink’s eyes narrowed.
“You don’t look surprised by any of this,” she observed.
She was a smart cookie.
Even with me shielding my thoughts from hers, she knew when I wasn’t being open with her.
“Mattie,” I hesitated. “Mattie’s my sister.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“She’s your what?” she asked, sitting up so fast that water sloshed over the tub’s edge.
The outrage on her face was so comical that I nearly laughed.
Nearly.
Because the outrage was real.
For her friend and my sister, not for me.
“You’re…you…You’re,” she sputtered. “You’re an asshole!”
“What?” I asked, catching her before she could surge out of the bathtub and stomp away angrily. “Why?”
I found that I quite liked where she was, her breasts up high above the bubbles, on her knees, in front of me.
Her chest heaving wasn’t a bad thing, either. Her nipples played peek-a-boo with the bubbles, going in and out, over and over again.
My cock, which had been cooperating until now, started to stiffen at the look of pure outrage on Wink’s face.
I stifled a smile and reached for her, pulling her into my arms.
“Your sister thought you hated her,” she whispered. “How am I supposed to choose between you?”
I smiled at her.
“You don’t have to choose. I won’t make you,” I promised her.
“I will, unless you’re willing to meet her,” she replied. “I won’t give her up unless you force me to.”
“I’m not ready,” I told her.
“It’s been twenty years,” Wink said gently. “You need to get over whatever bullshit you think you have going on, and put her out of her misery.”
