Two of a Kind (Desire Island 2)

“That you were,” Kendra agreed with a fond laugh.

Abbie frowned. “You’re not dressed yet. What’re you going to wear?”

Kendra waved toward the several scene pieces she’d scattered over her bed before stepping into the shower. While she didn’t have nearly the wardrobe Abbie had amassed, she’d packed her leathers and lace, including a few bustiers, corsets, stockings, vests and short skirts.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Should I wear the satin corset or the leather vest and skirt?”

“Hmm,” Abbie said, tilting her head critically as she pondered Kendra’s paltry offerings. “I think that black leather vest and skirt would be hot.” She looked over the three pairs of wedge heels Kendra had pulled from the closet. “Don’t you have any stiletto heels? They’re so much sexier.”

Kendra lifted one eyebrow. “Excuse me, but are you really asking that? Can you actually imagine me balancing on those stilts? They look fabulous on you, but I wouldn’t make it three steps without twisting an ankle or falling over. Definitely not the impression I want to make in a dungeon full of serious players,” she added with a snort. “You should be impressed I have the wedges. I seriously considered sneakers. I like stability while I’m being flogged.”

Abbie laughed and slapped her forehead theatrically. “OMG. I forgot who I was talking to.” She glanced again at the shoes. “Any of those will do fine. You can also go barefoot, you know. A lot of folks take off their shoes for scening.”

“I’ll start off at least with these,” Kendra said, choosing the lowest pair. She started to drop her towel and then hesitated. Though Abbie knew the basics about what had happened, she had yet to see the scars. Kendra couldn’t very well hide them forever and so, taking a deep breath, she let the towel fall.

As expected, Abbie’s eyes widened in dismay, her pretty mouth turning down in a frown as tears leaped into her eyes. “Oh, Kenny,” she breathed, stepping forward to wrap Kendra in a warm hug. “I had no idea…”

Tears pricked at Kendra’s eyelids, a lump forming in her throat as her cousin held her. She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. Now was not the time to lose it. She gently disengaged from Abbie’s embrace.

“I can’t believe the cops weren’t able to track that fuckwad down,” Abbie said furiously, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You didn’t tell me he cut you. Why did you keep that from me?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” Kendra admitted. She wiped away Abbie’s tear with her thumb. “Come on, cut that out, Abs. You’ll smear your mascara.” She grimaced. “It’s over and done with. I survived and I’m fine. I’m over it,” she added emphatically, hoping if she said it enough, it would become true.

Eager to change the subject, she pointed to the oryx tattoo on her upper thigh. “You didn’t comment on my newest tattoo. Isn’t this gorgeous?”

Abbie refocused her attention on the ink. “Oh, wow,” she breathed, dropping effortlessly into a pretty kneeling-up position as she ran a finger over the design. “It’s beautiful.”

Kendra smiled, glad she’d distracted her cousin. She told her about the history of the oryx while she dressed. She shared the symbolism behind the tattoo as well.

“You’re so cool,” Abbie enthused. “You’re my hero. Did you know that?”

Kendra laughed. “You always were an idiot,” she teased.

“I’m rubber and you’re glue,” Abbie recited in the singsong voice they had used as eight-year-olds, “and everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”

Kendra laughed again, warmed by the love and approval in Abbie’s gaze even as they continued to tease one another.

Though Kendra rarely wore makeup, she allowed Abbie to bring her makeup bag back from her room so she could do Kendra’s eyes. Abbie painted the lids a glittery, smoky gold, adding eyeliner and mascara. “You look beautiful,” Abbie pronounced, regarding her handiwork in the mirror.

Kendra had to admit she liked the dramatic effect, and even agreed to the glossy red lipstick. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, suddenly nervous. “Let’s do this thing.”

“Is this your first time back in the scene since…?” Abbie trailed off, her face once more a mask of concern.

“Yeah,” Kendra replied, her usual stiff-upper-lip mask slipping a little. “I might just watch.” She shrugged.

“Unless Dylan Gold is there,” Abbie teased with a knowing grin.

“Maybe,” Kendra admitted, grinning back.

As they walked toward the dungeon, Abbie volunteered, “Dylan asked last night where you were. Looked really bummed when I explained you were wiped out.”

“He did?” Kendra asked, unable to keep the girlie squeal out of her voice.

“He did,” Abbie affirmed. “He’s there a lot for the parties. The sub girl guests are always lined up at his station, eager to scene with the tattooed bad boy.”

They entered the dungeon, a large, well-equipped space with private scene stations interspersed with common areas that contained the usual whipping posts, stocks, suspension hooks and St. Andrew’s crosses. Kendra glanced around, scanning the room for Dylan.