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“Sash?”
It was her dad.
“Fuck”, Sash mouthed, suddenly aware of what she was doing. “Fuck.”
“Are you awake in there?”
She rolled away from Dante and sat on the edge of the bed. Her heart was beating so much she could hear it. Quickly, she snatched up her T-shirt and pulled it on. Dante was shaking his head. “Don’t.”
“Dad?”, Sash said eventually, coiling the words to pretend she had just been asleep. “Is that you? I was sleeping.”
Dante rolled his eyes. Already his cock was beginning to soften.
“I saw the light”, her dad said. “Then I heard the stereo was on. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry, I must have been really tired that’s all. Sorry if I woke you.”
“That’s ok”, her dad said. “Just try and get some sleep.”
When he finally went back to bed, leaving Sash and Dante in awkward silence, the moment had been emphatically broken. Sash has spent three years wondering what would have happened had her dad not interrupted them. It was that moment, more strongly than any other in the four weeks that followed it, that she was ready to have him take her virginity.
Dante slept in his own room that night, banished there by Sash, and even though he didn’t want to go, the last thing he wanted was their parents finding out what had happened.
Over the rest of the month, Dante couldn’t keep his hands off his stepsister, and the more he insisted, and the closer they got to going all the way, the less comfortable she felt about it in general. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, because she wanted to more than anything else in the world, it was because nothing else scared her so much in her life.
She was scared of losing her virginity in the first place, frightened to death of someone finding out about them and absolutely terrified that if she did let him take it, he wouldn’t need her any more, and he’d cast her away just like every single other girl she’d seen come and go in his recent past.
She’d dreamt about being with him ever since she first saw him, and the snatches of time they found together, either in the dead of the night when their parents were already in bed, out in his car, parked up in the middle of nowhere, or once in a motel room at the edge of town, were so earth shatteringly incredible, that the more she lost herself inside him, the greater the risk if it was all pulled away. He made her feel like nothing else on earth and she was desperate not to lose that happiness, only she did anyway by deciding to deny him the one thing he so desperately wanted.
Even though she promised him that the day she was no longer living under her dad’s roof, and they could find a place secretly together, would be the day she’d finally let him take her virginity, it clearly wasn’t enough. When his twenty first birthday rolled around, and the money got credited to his account, he was out of her life so quickly she didn’t even have time to say goodbye. That was the last time she saw him, before she chose to walk back into his life, and let him take her finally.
Sash rolls over onto her side, feeling a little sick at what has happened. Three years ago, she denied him her virginity and it’s clear he never forgave her for doing it. As she catches herself rubbing her belly again, caressing the skin there in smooth loving circles, she wonders whether she’ll ever forgive herself either.
Chapter 3
The dust, the tacky memorabilia that hasn’t been changed in over half a century, the quirky comedic sign that says ‘you don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps’, the jukebox, the worn leather booths, and most of all, the general bust up nature of the place, doesn’t make it look like a bar a billionaire businessman would usually drink in.
Much of the room is cast in shadow, preserving the anonymity of the handful or so patrons. This is a place people come to be anonymous. Where they come to think, to forget and, most importantly, to drink. Dante is here to do all three.
Nursing a poor imitation of an Old Fashioned, Dante sits at the bar, his suit alone worth more than most of the rest of the people in here have ever earned in their whole lifetime.
At twenty one, Dante made his first million. The small amount of money left to him from his father’s company was all he needed to get started. A year later he’d bought the huge tower block in the city for his head quarters in cash, and expanded his interests, from computer software into clubs and commercial property. Just before his twenty fourth birthday, Dante turned over a billion. Not many people could say that. Not many people had such an exceptionally quick rise to the top nor the capacity to know how to stay there. Dante had a knack for it. He made more money in a day than ninety nine percent of Americans. Men fought each other to line up alongside him, hoping somehow his infectious charm would rub off on them, and women, drawn by his natural magnetism and rugged good looks, went crazy just to throw themselves at his feet. He had everything that he had ever wanted, apart from just one thing. The one thing he had always been denied.
Another bar sign catches his eye. ‘There are no regrets in life, just lessons.’
He snarls at it, curses under his breath, raises his glass to his mouth and downs the rest of his drink. When he places the glass back on the counter, a quarter turn out of habit, to set the embossed company logo into a more favorable place, someone has already sat down next to him.
A raise of the glass is enough to get the attention of the bartender.
“You buying?” the girl asks him.
Dante shifts sideways in his seat to look at her. She’s prettier than he expects, and much younger than her voice led him to believe. A quick glance reveals an athletic body she’s not shy to show off, healthy, peach-colored skin, and innocent, chocolate brown fuck-me eyes. She’s not a whore either. She doesn’t have the distant, detached look, nor the beaten up air the requirements of that job instills. That doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous, but when has that ever stopped him before? Besides which, she might help him make a decision. At least if she can’t, she’ll help him take his mind of making it for a while.
“Sure”, Dante says, impressed by her confidence, his broad smile spreading across his face to make the girl feel comfortable. It’s a smile that you can’t help but fail to warm
to. “What would you like?”
“What are you drinking?”
“Old fashioned”, Dante says. “Apparently it’s their specialty”
The bar tender puts a glass down on the counter top and fills it with bourbon and ice. There is a warmth between him and the girl that suggests they already know each other.
“You always drink alone-?” she asks.
“Dante”, Dante says, filling in the gap for her.
“You always drink alone, Dante?” she asks again, this time the sentence complete.
“Do you-?” Dante asks her, flipping the question.
“Katy”, she says. “And yeah, I do if I’m looking for conversation.”
Dante ignores the irony. Drinking alone and looking for conversation aren’t the kind of things that usually go together, but he’s sharp enough to know what she really means.
“This doesn’t look like the kind of bar where you’d usually go to get it”, he says.
“You’d be surprised, the kind of people that come in here”, Katy says, her eyes wide as though she’s sharing a secret.
“You always dress like that for conversation?” Dante asks, his eyes catching the hem of her dress, where the fullness of her thighs emerge.
“I find it flows better”, Katy says. Because he’s looking, she uncrosses and recrosses her legs, pulling her dress down carefully to cover herself.
The bar tender finishes mixing the drinks. He slides them over before retreating again back into the shadows, to concentrate on the football game on the TV up in the corner.
“So who’s the girl that’s done this to you?” Katy guesses, her voice rough-edged but luxurious, like it belongs to a soul singer with a thousand different stories to tell.
Dante smiles again. He hangs his head and fiddles with the stirrer in his glass. Again, he regards her. What’s her story? Who is she? University kid from a rich family? A lost soul looking for another?
“What are you doing here, Katy?” he asks, flatly ignoring the question.
