Page 34 of My Twin Sister

I scoot to the end of my stool, my legs between his knees. I whisper conspiratorially, “Have you ever done or seen something you weren’t supposed to?”

He laughs, shaking his head. I look over my shoulder and think maybe being in proximity to his cop buddies is keeping his lips tight.

“Do you want to?” I ask suggestively.

His eyebrow quirks up and I take his hand.

“Go say goodbye to your friends,” I say with my hand on his chest.

He grins and stumbles over to the group of men, and I lean over the bar to pay my tab. She waves me away. “I put you on his tab,” she says.

I smile. “Thank you.”

He’s back with his arm around me, and I try to look at least half as drunk as he is as we walk out so it doesn’t look like I’m taking advantage of him. This would be a lot more suspicious if I were a guy and he was the woman, but because it’s the other way around, his friends hoot after him, happy to think he’s about to get laid. It helps that I am who I am. A local legend now. Me leaving with him will be the talk of the town by morning.

We stumble our way to the deli and up the stairs to the apartment above. He struggles with his keys, but eventually we make it inside. I grab his face and pull it to mine, kissing him deeply. Then I pull away.

“Make us a drink.”

“Okay,” he says, his eyes still on my mouth.

The apartment is small and the bathroom is easy to spot. I check the mirror to clean up my makeup and fluff my hair. I look through his cabinets and drawers, but there’s nothing interesting. Before I go back out to him, I stick my hands into my bra and pull my breasts up and in to make my cleavage more noticeable. Then I turn on the voice recorder on my phone and slip it into my back pocket.

He’s in the kitchen when I return, still sloppily trying to put together a drink.

“I got it,” I say. “Go sit down and get comfortable.”

He smiles and follows my directions. In another life, I might actually like him. At least enough for a night or two. But this is not another life, and I slip the small baggie of a crushed Ambien from my jeans pocket and sprinkle it into his Jack and Coke. I give it a stir with my finger and take it to him in the living room. He sits on the couch, slouched into it with his knees set wide apart.

I straddle him and hold the drink to his lips, slowly tipping it up. He takes a drink and I pull the glass away. Kiss him. Then exchange my mouth for the glass again. I do it a few times until the small drink is nearly gone.

“Tell me a secret. Tell me something bad,” I say, using as seductive a voice as I can without sounding like a bad phone sex operator.

I lean forward and run my tongue across his bottom lip. He groans. I pull back and look at him expectantly.

“You like bad boys, huh?”

I try not to roll my eyes. I nod instead and bite my lip.

“You like a bad cop?”

“I love a bad cop.”

I pray this doesn’t go any further before I get information. The Ambien is in his system and he’ll be useless soon. I take my shirt off and let him take in my nearly bare chest.

“Tell me if you want to see more.”

He groans again.

“Okay, okay. Sometimes . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes, we steal drugs from the evidence locker.”

“Mm. I need more than that.”

I slip a bra strap off my shoulder.