Just One More

But Callie was different. She was a nice girl, someone we’d want to know even in our regular lives. So despite the fact that what we were doing wasn’t technically wrong, I knew it might not hold up under a departmental investigation.

Plus there was the fact that we’d let Callie in on our greatest secret – that Bryan and I regularly engage in twin sex. It sounds gross, I know, bizarre even. But it works for us. My brother and I pound each other, drinking each other’s cum and anal sweat, lubing up our members for each other. What can I say? The bisexual lifestyle suits us just fine.

And now Callie’s become a much-needed third. Her home life isn’t really stable, so she’s moved in with Bryan and I, into our little trailer on the edge of St. Francis Wood. She told us about her family a little.

“I’m not sure where to start,” she confessed. “I mean, do you guys watch porn?”

Porn? Silly girl, we’d been part of the vice squad for years now and sometimes we had to watch porn as part of the job. It sounds like it should have been fun, but trust me it’s not. At least not when you’re watching victims being degraded against their will.

But the little girl didn’t know that, she thought we were just senior transfers from a bad neighborhood in New York.

“Sure we watch porn,” I tossed off casually, sharing a glance with my brother. “What guy doesn’t? In fact, we pay for a streaming channel,” I added with a wink. That was true. We forked over money each month for a gay site as inspiration, wanking off as hard male bodies writhed and shuddered in ecstasy.

“Well,” the brunette said slowly. “Do you know of a porn star named Violet Wood?”

Violet Wood? She was practically the next Sasha Grey, a break-out star with huge gazongas and a nubile, flexible body. She’d come to fame recently because she resembled some famous model.

Callie nodded, as if reading my mind.

“My sister is Jenna Walsh, the model she impersonated,” she said slowly. “But it’s complicated because Jenna and Violet actually are twins.”

My brother had laughed with disbelief.

“You’re telling us that not only are you related to a famous fashion model but also a notorious porn star?” he’d asked. “No way!”

But Callie shook her head, unsmilingly.

“It’s true,” she said slowly. “Jenna was never like the rest of us, but I genuinely thought she was my sister. Turns out, she was actually given away at birth and Violet is her biological twin. So the resemblance isn’t make-up or coincidence. It’s because they share the same DNA.”

That made me frown.

“How is the relationship between Jenna and Violet now?” I asked with a frown. “It must have been a shock to realize you have a secret twin out there.”

“I don’t know,” said Callie unhappily. “Jenna’s practically disavowed us, she never felt like she belonged to the family anyways. So from us four girls … there’s really just three left,” she said sadly.

And my heart went out to her. Maybe her older sister was a flashy international star whose mug stared out from the hottest magazines, but Jenna would always be big sister to our girl and Callie missed her.

“No worries honey,” I said pulling her into my lap. “Bryan and I are here for you now,” I said, stroking those brunette curls.

She sighed, leaning her head against my chest, nuzzling into my chest, her softness warm and trusting in my arms.

“Thanks Blake,” she murmured, her voice tinged with weariness. “I appreciate it, you can’t imagine how tumultuous these last two years have been.”

And I stroked her hair more, my brother coming to join us on the couch. It was almost idyllic, surrounding the girl of our dreams, making sure she was okay, happy, taken care of. Okay, so maybe we were living in a shitty little trailer for the time being, but what counted was being together, making sure Callie felt safe and content.

Which was why we’d taken pains to exclude her friend Chrissy from the dissection today. The blonde had been useful so far – she’d hosted a party at her house where Bryan and I had done some undercover investigation. We’d learned that Canterdale isn’t as terrible as it seems, that the kids, despite being rich and spoiled, aren’t bad … at least not in the criminal sense of the word.

After doing Callie in Chrissy’s bedroom, we’d snuck downstairs, straightening out our clothes, trying to look nonchalant.

“Oh there you are!” squealed Chrissy, her eyes darting between the three of us suspiciously. “Where have you been? Bryan, I went to the kitchen to re-fill your drink and you disappeared,” she accused.

“Oh right,” said my brother. “Sorry about that, just went to the restroom and got distracted,” he stated.

“Did you find it?” asked Chrissy, still suspicious. “I mean, it’s been forty minutes and the bathroom’s right there,” she said, gesturing to a closed door behind us.