Initial arguments:
Let's say that I am called Alexandra. I am a gorgeous young woman, with round face and breasts. People tell me that my body should be in calendars or pin-ups in which the girls wear bikinis or even fewer clothes. But my parents insisted that my older brother and I should pursue dignified or lucrative careers, so I followed my father's footsteps, as a lawyer. My mother was a typical high-society lady, elegant and dignified; after having started a career in high-fashion modeling, she retired in order to raise us. She even enrolled both children in modeling classes, but not so that we make a career of it, but for our personal improvement.
My brother, Edwin, was always a little rebellious, but he was not really a bad person, only a misfit. He was handsome and well-built, capable of attracting any girl, even myself. But since he did not know what he wanted his future to be, he didn't maintain relationships for much time outside of the family environment. Midway into his career, we began noticing a drop in his grades and he considered transferring to a community college in order to be an automotive mechanic, since he did have a talent for repairing mechanical malfunctions to our fleet and to some of his friends, especially his girlfriends, he even wanted to be a race car driver. I began to talk to him, and he told me:
"Our father will never accept that I am less than a lawyer, engineer or doctor. But I was not made for that life."
I answered him:
"Anything that you could be is fine by me, as long as you do it well and with your heart."
"That is in fact my problem: I don't have much heart to battle so much. I can't please so many people who expect more and more of me. They are driving me crazy!"
I even began to plan how we would hide his change of profession, at least, until he settles down. But my father turned out to be a great detective and he discovered us quickly. He even recriminated me for not warning him about Edwin's plans. But we stood our ground over our parents, on the condition that I didn't drop my studies, and I assured them that for me, that was not going to be a problem. But our parents grew impatient and made his life miserable, even when he completed his computerized auto diagnosis course, and that induced him to get drunk and stay out all night in parties and discos.
I, for my part, stayed in the university dormitory, but my parents only allowed me to spend the night there for final exams and long study sessions or big projects. Once, very late in the night, he called me to my cell phone. At least, it didn't wake up my roommate, since I must set it for vibration only. It sounded like a very bad connection. At least, I could understand that he spent that night drinking and racing his car, one old and battered in which he invested much of his time and special talent, and enough money from Dad, turning it into an impressive hot rod.
"I'm going over..."
Or at least, that's what I seemed to hear, but he was barely within the radius of coverage of the provider. A call to a certain radio triangulation service which my father uses in order to locate people, such as us, could only tell me that he drove through a very tortuous rural road. I became anxious and I called some of my brother's buddies. Almost all answered me in the evasive, but one in particular, Samuel, with whom I had a brief courtship and some sexual experience, although I was still technically a virgin, informed me that they really competed in illegal races, but they became separated after a false alarm of a police raid. But the improvised strip that they use lies in the same route toward my college, because I know that some students from here also race there. I despaired and I got in my small car, to see if I could reach him. After approximately ten minutes on the road, I noticed tire marks which led to a cliff, but first went through some trees and boulders before falling off. I looked down carefully, because that cliff gave me vertigo, and I was able to see something burning. I could even hear a faint voice, but the noise of the fire didn't allow me to listen to it clearly. Soon that voice could no longer be heard and the fire also died and I called my brother's number, but now, that unit was not activated. Now what I felt a mixture of panic with uncertainty and I called the police and an ambulance. The firemen also came, but they only found ashes. The charred body was unrecognizable and DNA tests were necessary, if only to determine that the dead person was our relative. But even so, there was no doubt: the one who died in that accident was my brother, whose causes will never know for sure.
The incident marked us deeply, and it obviously had a worse effect on my mother, and to a lesser degree, on my father, who cursed his own son for being irresponsible. The effect in me was only psychological, since we were mutual accomplices. My mother became sick with cancer due to the suffering, but my father faked being strong and resorted to blame it on Edwin and he even urged my mother to make believe that she never had a male child so that she overcome her grief and the treatment could be more effective. But she didn't resist and died in less than a year. My father quit his profession, and he even began to drink and go out with women, many were models, almost as young as I, and others were widows and/or divorced ladies, friends of my mother, who offered him some comfort through sex. But that lifestyle took a toll on my father's health, and he died from a heart attack a few days before I graduated.
I was alone, with a considerable inheritance, although with certain debts that the circumstances had forced us to postpone, and more important, a promising career. An older lawyer, a friend of my father, specialist in inheritance and tax law, helped me to liquidate all the bills without either my credit or our good name being harmed, and upon passing my bar examination, he hired me as a practitioner. I might not need an employment in order to live, but I had a commitment of honor to acquire experience in my new profession, and I would have never endured the life of a lazy socialite. One of the draconian adjustments that I had to make was to dismiss the servitude, and as I didn't take advantage of privileges of a rich girl in my years as a student, I know how to maintain a home in order, even such an imposing mansion like the one which I inherited. I also took possession of a penthouse apartment downtown, from where I found it to be more convenient to go to work. Here my father, in his widowhood, and my brother before him, brought their respective conquests, and even I had a stealthy encounter with my boyfriend. Almost everything was oral sex, but both got too horny, and although we had condoms, I didn't want to lose my hymen, so we didn't have other choice than to take him in my anus. It hurt a little at first, but his penis was not so big and I could get used to it, since the condom was extra-lubricated. He began slowly, but as his orgasm approached, he pumped inside me with more force. I achieved an orgasm because Sam was considerate enough and he fingered my clitoris to take my attention away from my anal pain. I bled a little and he consoled me, by saying:
"Don't you worry, Sandy, that virginity will come back."
I didn't find it funny and I told him to leave so I could wash and soothe my sore arse. I believe that we broke up our relationship for that reason, but I still relied on him, so he could keep an eye on my brother when he got in trouble. It was some sort of friendly blackmail.
I banished those memories from my mind in order to dedicate myself fully to my adulthood.
Exhibit A:
At the office, there were five employees: The boss, a former-colleague of my Dad, a couple of young male lawyers, a secretary and paralegal, whose face seemed peculiar, and finally, yours truly. Most of our cases didn't seem to be of any consequence, in spite of the effort required in preparation and research, since they only had to do with properties or government permits and they were neither criminal cases nor life-and-death lawsuits. But Charles, the more handsome of the two males, yearned to make this a great firm, and the boss began assigning him cases with high risk and remuneration. His ambition seemed to go at the same level with his great attractiveness and I fell in love with him, because I admired him a lot. He was what my father and my brother, in his own way, always were: brave in the face of the trials that life puts in our path. I even felt that I could channel my almost incestuous love through him. So I made a pass at him, after a day in which our workload diminished. He, naturally, felt flattered and he asked me:
"What will you do tonight?"
"Not much. Perhaps, I will relax in my Jacuzzi and sip a glass of wine."
He didn't reply with words, but I noticed that a bulge formed inside his pants and realized that his penis must be big, at least, nine inches (22 centimeters). I was frightened, but my nipples were erect, encouraging me to take him, at least, into my mouth, and the wetness that I began to feel in my vagina forced me to decide: now or never. While taking the elevator down, I moved toward him. I did not speak, but the heat that emanated from both of our bodies hypnotized and drew us together, wanting to embrace. He took the initiative and he made contact with me. I am a little tall, with 5 feet 7 inches, or 1.7 meters, but he stands more than six feet, almost two meters. He hugged me and almost kissed me, until the door opened up at the ground floor. I had him ride in my favorite car, a sporty European that, although my brother didn't consider it to be much, he always respected its performance. If I were not been able to attract him with my sculptural body, the car had him eating out of my hand. We took oriental food, more like hors d'oeuvres than an actual meal, and he tossed a bag in his briefcase that he bought in a convenience store at the gas station where I stopped to refuel this road hog.
Upon arriving at my apartment, we did begin to kiss, sharing our tongues without further ado. We tasted the food and I went to prepare the Jacuzzi. He ate enough, but left something so that I could finish and asked:
"Where is that wine of which you spoke?"
"I don't have any. Oh, well: I lied. It's just that I don't like to drink..."
"Good for you. We will toast with something else tonight."
I asked him mischievously:
"What are we celebrating?"
"I don't know. Us, or even better, the relief of our responsibilities at the office. By the way, did you also lie about the Jacuzzi?"
