This is Part 2 of 3. The events in this story are based on what happened in Part 1. Read Part 1 first: https://www.literotica.com/s/its-not-always-what-it-seems-pt-01
I stopped just outside the door and reached back to my ass and winced. I glanced at my watch as I walked to the elevator, confirming the time for myself, and documenting on camera the confirmation. I didn't need the key card to go back down, which was just as well as I'd left it in the suite. I didn't purposely look at, nor did I hide my face from, the security cameras. I knew they were there and where they were, but I tried to make it look like I wasn't paying attention to such things.
My phone room was ringing when I got there, it was my buddy Larry. "Back in your room?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Just following up, making sure."
"No problem. I'm OK."
"See you tomorrow." He hung up and I headed to the shower.
It was nearly 3 am when I was awakened by a cool hand sliding across my naked stomach. "Are you OK baby?" Stephanie whispered in my ear, her mouth coming to mine as I opened my eyes and kissed her.
"You didn't tell me it was going to hurt that bad."
"I couldn't, you wouldn't have reacted right, and he would have suspected something."
"Fuck, my ass is sore. I may not walk right for a week."
"You'll be alright by tomorrow. I was surprised, he normally never uses lube. This time he used just enough to get in but he
wants
you to know you've been raped. That's his thing. If we'd lubed you up before hand, he'd have known you were expecting it."
"Hmm," I responded, considering what she'd previously admitted to me. "And you like anal?"
"Sometimes. If I'm lubed up well before hand, I won't even be sore the next day and an anal orgasm, especially when Casandra is eating my pussy at the same time..."
"Is that him?"
"No. He's never fucked me. He doesn't do women. He doesn't even have a regular lover. His thing is a virgin male."
"And you set them up for him."
"Not always. If it's for Cassie and me, I just tell him that they're not a virgin and he's not interested."
"You really are a kinky bitch, aren't you?" I whispered, her hand stroking my cock which had now, several hours later, firmed up quite nicely.
"Yeah, I am," she giggled, swinging her leg up and over and mounting me. Despite barely having any foreplay she was already wet. "Do you want to do my ass sometime?"
"Do a poop chute when the love chute is available?" I flexed my cock inside her, causing a slight shudder from her. "I don't think so."
"Do you think he suspected anything?" I asked a few minutes later, my cock having spit its contents in her pussy once again, her body having shuddered in yet another orgasm.
"Not a thing."
"Hmm. What took you so long?"
"He wanted to watch Cassie and me; watch her eat your cum from my pussy and then he didn't go to bed right away."
"And then you left?"
"Once he's asleep, we're free to do whatever we want until tomorrow."
6 months earlier
The coroner initially only pulled the covering sheet down enough to expose her face and neck to me. That she had been dead several days before they found her partially submerged in the Potomac hadn't done anything for preserving her features. I was pretty sure it was her, but said "she should have a mole on her left hip." The coroner pulled the sheet down further, exposing her breasts and belly until a mole appeared.
I'd never seen my baby sister naked before, not since she'd been a baby. 14 years younger than me, the ultimate example of an "oops" baby, I'd changed her diapers, I'd fed her in her high chair, and later I'd listened as she complained about boyfriends, girlfriends, dating, and growing up. I had little to no idea about her life since I'd left home.
Her pure white breasts, which accented the mild tan of her belly and chest that she'd had when she died, confirmed that she'd never (or at least, seldom) been topless in the sun, totally in concert with her slightly conservative outlook. The mole, which had always played peek-a-boo at the top edge of her bikini bottom, appeared right on the tan line. I didn't ask her to pull the sheet further down, I had no want or desire to examine my sister's pubic preferences. I knew she wasn't a virgin; I'd been surprised one morning when I was visiting and she'd come home from college, had already gone to bed before I got there, and had brought her boyfriend out with her for breakfast in the morning. There were actually a couple of boyfriends she brought home with her over the years before we both left for good.
"That's her," I confirmed, reaching up and touching my sister's cheek, her complexion completely ashen, her cheek cold and stiff to the touch. I hadn't seen a dead body since dad died three years before.
The call had been unexpected, but then again, sudden death of a 23-year-old is never expected. She'd been found drifting in an eddy of the Potomac, and the police had been unable to determine whether she'd been put in right there, or whether she'd drifted down from elsewhere. They hadn't yet performed the autopsy when I saw her; when they did it was inconclusive for cause, just that she'd been dead for almost 24 hours when found, and that she'd most likely been high on heroin. The death was ruled an overdose, even though when I asked about indications of previous drug use: needle marks, toxicity in her hair, anything -- everything came up negative. I knew it would.
Even in death she was one of the most beautiful girls I knew, her drug of choice had been athletics. At five feet seven inches, blond hair, she'd been a star on the high school girls track and cross-country teams. She'd won her regionals as a sophomore and junior, but a late developing bust, taking after our mother in that respect, but also aided by becoming sexually active and going on the pill, left her top-heavy and had her give up competitive running her senior year. She could have been a model; she'd actually done some modeling in high school. She could have been an actress; she'd also participated in plays in high school and college both. Instead, she'd pursued politics, she wanted to make a difference. When she graduated Magna Cum Laude with a Political Science degree she moved to Washington, eventually ending up on the staff of The Senator.
~
I had her cremated, there being no other close family to ever check on her or question where she was buried again. When the Senator found out I'd had her cremated, he bought a spot in a columbarium in the memorial park for her. It wasn't until I received a call from Stephanie, introducing herself as both my sisters' friend and co-worker that I even knew anything about Stephanie, my sisters work, or the Senators gift of the columbarium. Until then I hadn't even thought about what I would do with her ashes, in the back of my mind I'd sort of thought about taking a boat out to sea and spreading them. She always loved the sea. I didn't have any idea whether doing such was even legal, but I didn't care. I was just numb that my sister was dead. My entire family was dead. No aunts, no uncles, nobody that I knew of were left in my withered and dry family tree.
I didn't question why the Senator had come to the memorial service that I planned with the Mortuary, nor did I question the several reporters there taking his picture. To me I was burying my sister, but apparently to the reporters he was "showing his respects." Along with the Senator, there were two young women, Casandra -- and Stephanie. Both were extremely good looking, well above average, but I hadn't yet met either, until Stephanie approached me. "James -- I'm Stephanie. Your sister talked a lot about you. I can't tell you how sorry we all are to lose Kathy. The Senator has asked me to express his condolences also." It would not have meant anything in the normal context of things, except that The Senator was just a few feet away, with several media recording devices stuck in his face. Despite noticing the seeming incongruity, I was still too numb to care. "You need to call me," Stephanie said and handed me a business card, "when you're ready." I took the card, not really looking at it, and slipped it into my shirt pocket. As I looked away, I saw the Senator, still talking with the reporters, but looking our way. His eyes shifted away; I had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding looking at me.
One reporter actually stepped up and asked me how it felt to lose my only sibling. She actually expressed her condolences before asking such a tone-deaf question, more than the Senator ever did.
And in a sad note today, a memorial service for Kathy Longacre, the intern on Texas Senator Aaron Jacobson's staff whose body was found floating last week in the Potomac. Police have not released a cause of death although they stated that foul play is not suspected at this time. Senator Jacobson attended the service where he spoke briefly to our reporters about the tragic loss.
