Graduate

The stench of cannabis hung heavily in the air, even through the closed door at the top of the stairs. Dropping the door handle I step into the haze that hangs like a fog through the tiny apartment.

"You in here somewhere Stevie?" I keep my tone light when I could so easily be angry

"Oh uh ...Hi" I sense movement as I hear her soft voice.

Steve lays slumped in the corner of the three seater sofa, curled up against him is the rake like blonde I'd first encounter a little over two months ago.

"You alright there Gemma..." I offer cursively, "...How's Louise?"

I barely keep the smirk from my face, thinking of the pleasure the fuller figure blonde work colleague had provided having been convinced back to the flat with her friend exactly a week after Gemma's first submission to us. Using Gemma as a quick fuck and then as leverage at the time had seemed a good idea, I had genuinely not expected her to still be part of our lives several months later.

"She's...she's still not back at work." Gemma offers in response, confusing my enquiry as being genuine as opposed to acerbic. Not least given the circumstances under which the two girls had departed the flat early the next morning. An uneasy sense bitterness and shame clouded Louise's persona the last time I'd seen her, the only time I'd seen her, following her heavy brutal submission stretched out bound across the bed in the spare room. Steve had assured me previously that Gemma had intervened and alleviated her colleagues mood and perception. Louise was one of those girls I worried about, a risk, a risk taken on a dark unshakable urge. Much like the exquisite little DJ of two weeks prior, a problem we still had to manage alongside of a pressing issue with Jenny our fellow far more compliant basement resident, a problem that had needed addressing months prior.

I quell my mind, I am too tired and it is far too late to start ruminating on such problems and concerns.

Steve and Gemma's relationship, if I was calling it that, had burgeoned off the back of those consecutive Friday nights of depravity. Frequently he spent more and more time in her company. I had no axe to grind with Steve's personal life choices the fact though that tonight included he regularly neglected professional responsibilities at the Bar was beginning to wear thin. Not that between us the ever diligent senior bar steward Shauna and I couldn't genuinely cope with everything the weekend crowd could throw at us.

As I head towards the kitchen, hoping to find sustenance in the bowels of the fridge or one of the cupboards that Steve hadn't pilfered I spot Gemma prise herself up and away from Steve's arm as it drapes across her shoulder.

"How much shit have you two smoked across the evening?" I state not looking back not even sure why I make the effort of conversation with her.

Crouching I swing open the low-level fridge door annoyed to see that not even remnants of food that can be cobbled together to constitute a meal remain. I feel my ire build, my low blood sugars doing nothing to placate my increasingly foul mood with the circumstances surrounding the shit show of ignorance I've discovered on returning home from a night of hard graft.

"A fair amount..." Gemma giggles as she sways into the kitchen "...Is there any bread left?"

"There's nothing fucking left," I offer back on an undisguised tone. Not content with hijacking my Brothers time, leaving me side-lined, she is now hell bent on eating me out of house and home it would appear, an irony given her bag of bones physique.

"Damn... I really wanted some toast," Gemma carries on oblivious to my growing anger.

"Looks like you missed out" I state harshly rising back to my feet and turning to face the petite framed young girl.

Her body looking even more slender than normal, little black boots zip over her ankles to meet thick black denier tights that extend up her thin legs to meet tiny navy denim shorts. Her upper body covered in a sheer black long sleeve top over a visible black bra that holds up her small breasts. Mousy blonde hair scrapes back off her petite features and sits in a bun to back of her head.

"I'm missing out always around tonight it would appear," Gemma softly states as she glances over with a look of resignation at Steve's baulk slumped across the sofa, semi-comatosed under the effect of their heavy little smoking session.

"I don't know..." I find myself saying as I begin to fixate on her tiny body, "...maybe you haven't".

Gemma looks form Steve to me, and then back to Steve as I step towards her. Her gaze only back on me when I'm stood over her. With a horrendously submissive look up from her pale blue eyes she only serves to fuel the cruel fantasy that starts to play out in my mind.

"What... what do you..." she utters.

"I think you know what I mean," I state cutting across her hesitancy while I speak I slip my right hand over her left thigh, stepping forward as I do so, causing her to back up against the kitchen counter behind her. "It's not like we've never before."

"I... I..." Gemma's flounders

"I've seen him before when he gets like this... he'll be oblivious until the morning now... he won't even be aware... We'll be discreet."

Gemma doesn't respond, she doesn't know how to respond as she attempts to look past me towards my brother as he remains motionless.

"We shouldn't," she shakes her head, her own eyes heavy from the effect of the cannabis. "We shouldn't."

"We share everything Stevie and I," pressing home a trope that I know full well Steve would only concur with if the circumstances suited him, the present situation I knew full well he would not approve of. I no longer cared. I had a hunger growing on me, no longer for food but as I feel my dick strain as the back of my jeans, I know Gemma can satisfy that hunger. 'If Steve wasn't going to gain benefit from Gemma's presence why shouldn't I' was the thought process bouncing around my mind.

Gemma looks down to her boot clad feet, her head bowed as my hand slips from her hip pressing up over the rough fabric of the sheer top coming to rest under her left breast, skirting and teasing my thumb over a nipple I feel stiffen at my touch.

"Don't..." she offers but doesn't look to physically escape my touch, "...You're his Brother."

Her head raises slowly as she looks up at me with heavy eyes from under smoky dark purple eye makeup.

"You knew that before," I press.

"It's not who I am." Gemma offers softly.

"I know who you are..." I respond my mind slipping to my memory banks "...I fucked you first don't forget."

Her viscous strike catches me be surprise, she presses forward her neck extending her arms which wrap my shoulders as she kisses my lips with a harsh passion.

I don't kiss her back, moments later I take her hand in my hand as I lead her away, as I lead her down the hallway. Not looking back, not caring for my Brother in this selfish moment.

Turning right I lead Gemma into the room where I'd first claimed her intoxicated body.

My actions catch her off guard as she steps into the spare room behind me. My right hand slipping suddenly around her throat as I press her up against the wall with the double bed over my shoulder behind me. Gemma gasps but does not react her arms hanging to her side. Her eyes meet mine once more.

"I'm going to tie you... gag you... and brutally fuck you."

A quarter of an hour later I've been true to my word, Gemma lays prone beneath me her wrists and ankles trapped in steel handcuffs as a black ball gag holds her jaw open sat secure around the back of her head, her blonde hair having fallen free of the bun, her blonde hair heavily dishevelled by the abuse she has just received.

I ease my dick from her ass, glancing down smirking in the dim light of the room at the gape of her asshole set amongst how exaggerated her porcelain skin looks with the tights and little denim shorts barely pulled down the tops of her slender thighs.

Stowing my dick back into my jeans, watching her lay there recovering her own breath steadily. I sit next to her on the bed, brushing strands of blonde hair from her face.

"He never gets to find out about this... he never discovers my betrayal and your infidelity." Gemma gently nods her head as I slip my hand into my pocket and retrieve the universal key for both sets of cuffs that hold her in their restraint.

Turning the key in the hole set in the left wrist cuff I release her as she lays face down across the bed, I press the key into her left hand and feel her wrap her palm tightly around it.

"He won't get to find out because..." my right hand falls over the back of her neck. I lean my face closer to hers. "...because you're going to leave him... you're going to cut all contact.... you block his number... you move on and you stay away you cheating little cunt."

I see the conflict in her wide eyes, with her mouth still stretched around the gag set between her lips she offers no verbal protest.

"He doesn't need a toxin like you in his life." I offer as I spit across the left hand side of her face "You served your purposed long ago."

A half an hour later with Steve slumped on the sofa behind me I watch as Gemma, her body now wrapped in an unflattering dark green parka slips awkwardly onto the back seat of the light coloured Mercedes.

I watch the taxi pull away, heading down the street into the night, wondering if this will genuinely be the last I see of the skinny little blonde.

Turning I look from Steve to the handwritten note for him left by Gemma. The note she'd written with tears in her eyes as I stood over her.

It would be good to get Steve back.

There's a fresh gripe of hunger in my belly as I realise once again the predicament over a lack of food left in the flat. I smirk as I pull out my phone, not overly enthused by the likely hygiene standard of any takeaway establishments still operating at this time of night.

I smirk though all the same considering if I've just hate fucked Gemma for the sake of a few slices of bread.

**********

The bar was busy, another Saturday night coping without Steve, despite my intervention.

"It's fucking chaos," Shauna offers squeezing past me, clutching the necks of three full bottles of lager between slender fingers in each hand. before expertly setting them on the bar before the punter.

"Tell me about it." I concur barely having time to consider a response as I set up two Long Island Ice Teas over crushed ice in tall glasses.

To my left I spot her, a brief smile as she dispenses a double vodka into a glass she clutches in her left hand. I offer Hayley the briefest of smiles in return. The tight fit of her O'Leary's T-shirt clings to her chest and sits to expose her toned midriff just above the waistband of her black denim skirt, her lower legs clad in thick black nylon.

She distracts me for a moment too long as I consider her most recent submission, with half a mind on how I propose to use her next. The last month has offered revelation after revelation of discovery of the fascinating bottle blonde. Interspersed with the dalliance last weekend with the DJ lay still restrained in the cellar beneath my feet.

Such was the clandestine nature of our arrangement Hayley had not been invited to the private soirée held in my honour seven nights previous, fortunately neither had Gemma which had presented the opportunity and shown me glimpse enough of the old Steve to warrant my hostile actions in the early hours of this morning.

He'd not taken the news well, lost to a combination of Vodka and Marijuana by mid-afternoon. I'd allowed him further time to wallow in his self-pity. He could park thoughts of Gemma alongside of the raging hangover tomorrow would bring him.

Looking up at the busy bar I spot her immediately, I'd recognise her anywhere, despite having not seen her for months on end and despite her considerably altered appearance.

She spots me, she doesn't avoid eye contact but she does hold my gaze, turning to speak to a not unattractive dark haired girl to her left.

I break the etiquette of the bar to serve her, or rather her friend, immediately.

Her dark blonde hair is cut far shorter than it had been, layered and brushed forward in a pixie cut style that draws attention to her slender neck and heart shaped face, which is lightly made up. I can only see her from the waist up as she stands there on a close fitting cream leather jacket over a black top that does little to emphasise her impressive breasts.

"How are you I offer?" with a lopsided smile not even remotely interested in the drinks order sure to be involved.

Georgie Ellis, flushes a little as she nods and smiles weakly "I'm... I'm good thanks and you?"

"All the better for seeing you," I offer realising I uncharacteristically gush.

"Wait..." her companion, a late twenties looking shoulder length brunette with a straight cut fringe interjects pointing delicately from me to Georgie and then back again, "...you two know one another."

"Something like that," I offer unable to keep the dark smirk from my face.

"Uh... yeah... something like that." Georgie repeats. "I know his brother a little better.... How is Stevie?"

As she speaks my memory dances frantically over the sordid snapshots of recollections associated to Georgie. I had first met her nearly two years ago barely any distance along the bar from where she'd now stood. A sordid little tryst had played out that first night alone with Georgie becoming the first of the slew of girls that Steve and I had gotten to know and explore thanks to O'Leary's.

A week on from that first memorable weekend in which we'd kept the recently single nursery school nurse in our company she had returned alone to the bar. The secondary encounter that had resulted in Georgie becoming the first willing resident within the cellar beneath our feet. Tied and held as a willing captive for the best part of three months, until we'd replaced her with Melody another stunning object of our affection who'd ultimately become a far shorter-term option. Steve had always thought more of Georgie than I had, such was his penchant for a cute little blonde. As I look back to her that's not to say I was never anything than darkly smitten with her perfect features.

"He's a little heartbroken at the moment..." I offer in response to her enquiry, thinking of how his sorrow would only be exacerbated this evening knowing he had missed the opportunity to be reacquainted, "...found himself single but unwilling to mingle."

"Two vodka diet cokes and two pints of Stella" George's friend briskly cuts across our brief interaction. I flash a look that borders a scowl towards her impatience.

At the same time I note Georgie's lack of response or reticence to interact. I guess our shared past is unlikely to be a matter she's shared with many if anyone at all. I contemplate how the simple interaction alone between us might have been awkward enough. In company, or raise more questions than she was comfortable with.

With the slightest of glances back to Georgie I set about preparing the four drinks as requested.

Moments later I'm holding out a card machine to her colleague to tap a golf coloured credit card against.

"See you around Georgie..." I offer with a sincere smile, "...I'll pass on your best to my Brother."

An hour later as the bar quietens down significantly I head out and collect up empties, I have more than one reason for doing so.

As I head out into the bar I pass Hayley, who deliberately and discreetly lets the fingers of her right hand trace across my forearm as we pass. I keep the interaction quick, we both act within the parameters of the known agreement since we had first become acquainted, hiding our irregular and increasingly high energy rendezvous from her colleagues.

Hayley smirks, a devilish little smirk I have grown used to.

"Your place tonight?" She offers her voice barely audible over the cacophony of background noise.

Barely thinking as I nod my head towards her spotting Georgie, her female colleague and two males seated in the far corner of the bar at the same time. As I glance over, I see Georgie rise from the table, her back towards me. The group laughing and joking on some shared matter as she affectionately places a hand on one of the males shoulders before she turns to head in my direction, her head instantly bows low.

Letting her pass me, as she does I catch the scent of her perfume briefly such is her proximity. I do not catch her eye. As excruciatingly close as she passes, I do not know what to say. Yet I turn, conscious of the direction in which she heads, and I follow her. Her heels strike the hard wooden floor of the corridor that leads to the ladies and gents toilets.

My eyes casting up the backs of her legs as she passes me, black strap high heels worn over mid denier tights with a black seam that runs up along the back of her calf's and thighs until met by a tight short skirt of a black dress that clings to her under that fitted cream leather jacket.

"You look good," I hear the words honestly escape me as I stop near the top of the corridor.

Georgie stops dead, her head shaking in disbelief.

"It wasn't my idea to come here tonight..." she offers without looking back, "...We were out for a meal ...the group of us ...this place was mentioned... my blood froze as you can imagine."

"And yet here you are," I offer in response trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Here I am," Georgie retorts softly an air of resignation to her tone as she turns to face me and I look properly into her eyes for the first time in over a year.

Taking two steps towards her I respect her distance, but I can't help but keep my eyes off her, I look down across her body with purpose, she seems a little slimmer her being face shaped differently with the short cropped hair suited her. I flounder a little not knowing what to genuinely say as I stand there considering her.

"You don't know how many times I nearly came back..." Georgie speaks first, "...Ninety-seven days you kept me here... I stayed here for you then you rejected me... cast me out when I no longer served yours ...or his purpose."

I'm conscious of the procession of clientele that squeeze past us, paying us ultimately no attention in the confines of the narrow corridor, as is she, her eyes trained over my shoulder no doubt for fear of one of her party following her.

"After all..." Georgie continues "...by the end it was only ever him who'd come down those stairs to claim what he wanted... you moved on far quicker... and it was..."

Her words trail off as she shakes her head.

"You always were his favourite." I answer sincerely even if that is not what she wants to hear.

"You were always mine..." she remorsefully offers on hardly audible soft words. "It was you who lured me in.... You who convinced me to even contemplate surrendering my life to your... your dark sordid desires... where as his attention... his desires were just brutal... evil... an evil I endured for you."

I notice the tears well in her eyes as she takes a deep breath to steady her nerve.

"So yeah here I am unwitting and unwillingly, but here once again... the scene of what should be such shame... such regret..."

"Don't..." I offer about to show sympathy stunned by her words not sure I want to hear more, but she cuts me short once again.

"How many girls are locked away under our feet tonight?" her tone more erstwhile now as she finds a composure, as she takes a step closer to me.

"Three" I answer her honestly, with a honest response I would not have have offered even had Steve asked me outright. Before my eyes the faces flash of all three girls, all held under heavy restraint and in different circumstances.

"Three..." Georgie offers astonished, "...Doesn't that break your own rules?"