CHAPTER ONE
Melanie
I looked at the tuition bill in shock. Forty-six thousand dollars for one measly year of school? I couldn’t believe it … and I couldn’t afford it.
I know I’m lucky in a way. I attend Trinity University, an elite private school in Virginia that has strong academics, an amazing athletic program, and a storied past combining the best of Southern tradition with Northern innovation and learning. It’s not that we’re Confederate flag-toting rednecks or anything, but a lot of kids here have famous last names, and in Virginia, a last name still means something.
Unfortunately I don’t have a prominent last name and forty-six thousand in tuition was pretty much impossible. My mom divorced my dad when I was just a baby and we never saw that loser again. She scrimped and saved to raise me and did a good job, truth be told. Mom’s a pediatric nurse at the local hospital and she always made sure I had an excellent education and lots of extracurriculars. As a child, I never felt like we needed money.
A couple months ago, Mom married Sam Jones, a doctor at the hospital she works at. I guess they’d been co-workers for years, and had finally decided to come clean with the romance.
“Melly, aren’t you happy for me?” she asked.
“I am, Mom, I am,” I reassured her, my smile genuine and unforced. And I was happy for her. Years of working night shifts had prematurely aged my mom, and there were creases and lines around her eyes and mouth that deepened every year. Plus, she labored so hard that I hoped the marriage would give her a sense of security and happiness, lifting her spirits and letting her enjoy life a little more.
And Dr. Jones (I mean Sam) was nice. He was an older guy, divorced with two kids of his own around my age. I’d only met Saxon and Stryke once before, when they were in town visiting. Usually, they lived in California with their mom so our parents had organized a special dinner for us to get acquainted before the wedding.
I still remembered it … unfortunately. My mom had forced me to wear a skirt she bought which was way too short. Most moms are trying to make sure their daughters aren’t dressing like whores, but mine’s the opposite. Noreen thinks I need to be more lively, maybe get out more, so she’d bought this little pink number which would have been cute had it not ended right below my butt cheeks.
We’d shown up at the restaurant, and I was already self-conscious, trying to pull my skirt down, the wind drafty and cool between my inner thighs. God, this was awkward. But my feeling of impending disaster deepened when I actually met Saxon and Stryke.
They’d stood up with their dad when we arrived, and looked nothing like their father. Whereas Dr. Jones was average, a nerdy-looking guy, Saxon and Stryke were twin gods. Charcoal black hair, so dark that it absorbed light, plus penetrating blue eyes set in masculine faces, their features rugged and handsome. We’d shaken hands awkwardly, their eyes deceptively neutral although I’d felt the boys skim my body the moment we approached the table.
“So Saxon, Stryke,” said my mom at lunch. “Where are you guys headed after graduation?” Evidently, they were seniors as well, at some prep school in LA.
“We’ll probably go to USC or UCLA,” rumbled Stryke, his blue eyes clear and sharp. “We’re really into movie-making and both schools have great film programs.”
“Oh right,” said my mom, “Didn’t George Lucas go to USC?”
“Yep,” rumbled Saxon, “as did Ron Howard, Judd Apatow, and a slew of famous directors and producers,” he said.
I’d been too shy to add much to the conversation, but in a small voice, I said, “Peter Rainier went to USC.”
Both of my soon-to-be brothers turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry, who?” said Saxon smoothly.
It was hard to concentrate, having two pairs of intense blue beams focused on me, the twins so handsome, large and imposing in their suits. But I continued.
“Peter Rainier’s a movie critic,” I said. “I read his reviews in Rolling Stone all the time, and I think cultural critics really add a lot to film,” I added hesitantly. “I mean, who doesn’t check IMDb or Rotten Tomatoes before buying a movie ticket now?”
I smiled at my brothers as they nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, that’s true,” said Saxon. “Why, are you thinking about being a movie critic?”
“Oh no,” I blushed furiously. “I’d love to do something related to writing, maybe editing or fact-checking, but I’m too low-key to be the actual star of the show.”
Both my brothers nodded slowly, eyeing me with renewed respect.
“Well if you’re into editing, you might want to check out Cinaeaste or Modern Review,” suggested Stryke. “Both are trade pubs and have a lot of helpful articles about breaking in as an editorial assistant.”
Hmmm, so my brothers weren’t just gorgeous, they had brains too. They were headed off into Hollywood, a notoriously competitive arena, but weren’t going to try and cash in on their good looks. Instead, it seemed they more interested in writing / producing / directing, and had already begun to research the industry. Very interesting.
And the rest of the lunch went really well, typical boring chit chat getting-to-know-you type stuff, until the very end. We got up to go, my mom leaning over to give Dr. Jones a kiss goodbye, when Saxon turned to me.
“By the way Melanie,” he murmured. “Your skirt’s tucked into your panties.”
I looked down. Oh my god! When I’d come back from the bathroom, I must not have pulled my skirt down all the way, and now the flimsy pink material was tucked into my little g-string, revealing my bare ass cheeks, the strip of lace covering absolutely zero. Even more embarrassing, that lace was darkened with moisture, testament to my heightened arousal around these gorgeous men. Flushed, I hurriedly pulled the material down, trying to cover as much skin as possible.
“Try to wear a longer skirt next time, hmm?” mused Saxon, eyeing me suggestively.
And before I’d even realized what had happened, Stryke swiped a big palm across my ass, my skin burning as he touched me, that large hand warm and hard. Oh my god, wtf? Had my new brother just copped a feel in the middle of a restaurant? Stryke’s face was expressionless, calmly neutral, although there was a gleam in his eye.
And just when I was about to believe it was my imagination, Saxon reached between my legs, and lightly tapped the moistness at the crotch of my panties.
“Oh!” I gasped. I wanted to be outraged, scandalized at their bold moves. But it had felt so good, those warm fingers brushing against my secret space, niggling my clit for just a minute before touching my wetness.
And Saxon brought his hand to his lips for a second, tasting a bit, sniffing, before smiling at me.
“Aromatic and sweet, just the way we like it,” he murmured appreciatively.
I was now absolutely floored, but fortunately saved by my mom’s clucking.
“Boys, it was so nice meeting you, and we’ll see you at the wedding okay?” chirped Noreen. “I’m glad we finally got to get together,” she smiled. Oh my god, what would my mom do if she knew that my stepbrothers had just fondled me intimately, testing my pussy and behind? Would the wedding still be on?
But I decided not to find out. I was headed to college on the East Coast and my brothers would be on the West. So I smiled politely, my eyes large and my cunny wet, murmuring goodbye to my new steps, relieved yet tantalized at the scandalous meeting.