Before Mom married Frank, I knew exactly where I was going. No college, no big plans, just your average white trash trajectory. It wasn't a great future but at least I fit, and I could always cross my fingers and hope that some big shot literary agent fell in love with one of my poems or short stories.
But since I joined the wealthy Montgomery family, I felt lost, adrift. Like one of those horror stories you hear about poor people who win the lottery, only to end up alienated, depressed, and generally unhappier than when they were broke.
I went to the window, peered out, saw Mom in some glorified cocktail dress, on Frank's arm, stumbling into the car—half drunk already—probably for some early-afternoon cocktails at a fat cat shindig.
Whatever I would become, it wouldn't be that.
Angry, frustrated, I snatched my notebook and pen. I scratched down two furious stanzas of poetry before I took a deep breath, read my work over, and realized that what I'd written sounded like a bad Sylvia Plath rip off, only worse, because now I was ostensibly a spoiled rich girl pissed off because I was suddenly wealthy.
Come to think of it, the few poems I'd written since moving into Frank's mansion had all sounded like that. I tossed my notebook aside in disgust. "Well," I said to myself, "I'm not wasting another day laying around here like a bum."
An urge struck me to get a job, any job. That age-old instinct to earn one's keep and not become a barnacle on someone else's ship.
After a quick internet search I found a new big-box store that had just opened, urging new applicants to apply in person. (For legal reasons, I'll say that the store totally wasn't a Target.)
So I concocted a resume, threw on a semi-professional skirt and button-down top, pulled my hair back in a secretary's bun, and got ready to show middle-management how badly I wanted to stack pants in the Women's Department.
Of course, with my anxiety, the mere prospect of a job interview made me shudder. My nerves went haywire, and I knew that if I wanted to land the job, I'd need to self-hypnotize.
But Caleb had my talisman. He hadn't given it back after our pool encounter last week, and I hadn't seen him since. He was off with that new blonde he was dating. While Caleb usually resided at his dad's estate, he owned a downtown loft apartment, a little home-away-from-home where he could take his Skank of the Week.
I texted Caleb to let him know I was coming, ordered a car, and headed to the loft. It was noon when I arrived. The smell of sex slapped me across the face as soon as I entered.
Caleb's loft looked more like a gym than a home. A heavy bag hung in the corner, patched over in a dozen places. Free weights were scattered around one bench, with a barbell loaded with forty-five pound plates on the second.
But he had his most recent workout in bed. The sheets were a mess and the mattress hung halfway off the bedframe. The smell was worse there and I dared not get any closer.
"Back for more already?" Caleb called out from the bathroom.
"Try again shit head," I said.
He emerged from the bathroom, shirtless, wearing sweatpants. He must have just gotten out of the shower; his tattooed torso had a moist sheen and water dropped from his hair, freshly slicked back. Caleb walked toward me like a panther, his every move deliberate. He flexed his abs, which made his six-pack tighten even more.
Well, I was relieved to see that nothing had changed with my sex drive. Without my hypnosis, I remained dry as a bone.
Besides, if Caleb had turned me on, I wouldn't have been able to look at myself in the mirror. My eldest step brother was like an exquisite steak dinner that left you sick afterward.
And yet, I noticed something odd. Caleb wasn't wearing my talisman. He must have worn it a lot recently, if the pendant-shaped tan line on his chest was any indication.
He must have taken it off when he fucked the blonde. Interesting.
As if to confirm my thoughts, he picked up the pendant from the night table next to his bed.
"Sure looks like you two had fun today," I said.
"Her name's Cortney and yes, she's better than some," Caleb said as he draped the talisman around his neck. He winked at me. "But can't quite compare to others."
I hurried to the bathroom as I muttered something about having to pee. I shut and locked the door behind me then looked in the mirror, horrified by my reflection.
I was fucking blushing, damn it.
But, thank God, I was still dry down there. I even stuck a finger in to make sure. At least I had that much going for me.
Caleb was dressed now, nothing special, just jeans and a T-shirt. He was fixing his bed.
"So what brings you here, my darling step sister?"
I pointed to the talisman. "My pendant. I need it for a job interview."
"What job?"
I told him.
He recoiled. "As much as I loathe to say it, you're a Montgomery now. Jobs like that are unbecoming of our station."
"Your station," I said. "Not mine. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not my fucking mother."
"Okay Jesus, stop with the dramatics," he said. "I'll give you a ride if you want, not that I like it."
"That would be great," I said. "Now give me my pendant."
Caleb lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. "Nope. And when this day is over, you'll thank me."
#
My stomach was in knots when we got there. Luckily we were early, as the doors were just opening, with 'only' about a hundred applicants ahead of me. Within fifteen minutes, hundreds more had filed in behind us.
"I'm going to go sightseeing," Caleb said, and left me without another word.
The managers had set up a long line of tables where they were doing the interviews. I clutched my resume, certain that I'd screw it all up.
God, I wished I were home. Not the Montgomery Compound, but the trailer, my little shit town, anywhere but here, and I thought I might make a break for it, run for the door, just go and—
"Next," one of the managers said.
The manager was a middle-aged man with a knack for corporate backronyms, mission statements, and the importance of customer service while stacking pants. I answered mechanically, laughed at his jokes, and slowly became aware that the manager was hitting on me.
He smiled suggestively, stole a glance at my tits, unaware that I only entertained his awkward advances because I wanted the job.
Then I saw Caleb. He held a shopping basket filled to the brim. He looked dead at me, slid his hand into his pocket, and pulled out my talisman.
He dangled it between his fingers, swung it back and forth, back and forth...
The manager's voice grew muffled, then vanished from my awareness altogether. The nervousness, the anxiety, the worry, gone away one-by-one like melting snowflakes.
I fell into my trance, suddenly calm, like a lake so still there wasn't a single ripple in the water.
I dropped my resume to the floor, pushed away from the table, and went to him. We walked silently through the Women's Department, to a set of fitting rooms just up ahead. Caleb pulled me into one, locked the door, and set the basket down.
"You're in your trance now, correct?" he asked.
I nodded. My hair bun came undone and fell upon my shoulders.
"Good," Caleb said. He tapped his finger on his chin, looked at me from head to toe, like he was drinking me with his eyes. "You don't like me very much, do you?"
I grinned. "Nope, not at all."
"But do you want me to grab you by the throat?"
I licked my lips. "Yes."
He did, firmly, and pressed me up against the door. He nodded to that basket of goodies on the floor. "I brought some interesting things for you. Some of them will hurt. Some will make you scream. But I think you'll like them. Are you interested?"
"Yes," I squeaked, as his fingers tightened around my throat.
"Good," he said. "Now one more question. Do you really want this fucking job?"
"No."
"I figured," Caleb said, then pinned my arms behind me.
He kissed my neck, sucked me gently. I writhed my hips against him. His erection pressed against my stomach.
I breathed him in, smelled the light traces of cologne and, I thought, a lingering hint of Cortney.
Caleb kissed my mouth. I sucked on his bottom lip, brushed my tongue against his, took his jaw in both hands and ran my fingers across his stubble. Caleb grabbed my chest, found my nipples through my shirt, through my bra, and massaged them.
His hands shot to my hips. He spun me around to face the mirror on the door then bent me over. Caleb dropped to one knee, threw my skirt up over my hips, and yanked my panties off.
He licked his forefinger then made little circles around my clit. The tease lasted a moment before he ran his slick finger from my nub and worked backward as I stared at my own desperate, hungry countenance in the mirror.
His bottom lip brushed against my clit, his nose tickled my ass. He circled his tongue around my opening for what seemed like forever, and when he finally slipped it in for a taste, I moaned.
He put a finger over my lips. "That was strike one. Now keep quiet or else you'll get punished."
I reached back and unzipped his pants. Caleb's cock emerged, stiff and eager. I stroked him as he kissed my neck, nibbled my ear, and grabbed me by the throat again.
I stroked faster, felt the first traces of pre-cum drip onto my knuckles. Caleb pulled my skirt higher. He looked powerful in the mirror as he stood behind me, did as he pleased, tightened his grip on my throat. I liked how the muscles in my legs grew taught as I bent over for him, I liked the way my hair fell into my face, and most of all I liked the hunger in my eyes.
I guided his dick between my legs. He stuck his head in then slowly pulled it out. I twitched in anticipation, and then came the next thrust, only slightly deeper than the first.
I breathed heavier, leaned against the mirror, face-to-face with myself as Caleb went inside a third time, halfway in now, and I couldn't help but moan again.
Caleb held himself in me, tightened his hold around my neck. "Strike two."
He slid all the way in. I tightened my pussy around him and guided his free hand down to my cunt. He pulled his cock out and dipped his fingers inside me.
"Taste yourself," he said, and slid his forefinger into my mouth.
I closed my lips around his finger and sucked my juices off him. I tasted sweet and good.
"Do I taste better than her?" I asked him.
He thrust into me, as deep as he could go. "Fuck yes."
He pleasured my clit as he rocked his hips against me and, like a crack of lightning, a brief but intense orgasm rocked me.
