CHAPTER SIX
Angie
It was wrong, for sure. It was so, so wrong. Because we got a midnight visit from two patrolmen, informing us that Hannah had died.
“What?” gasped my mom, the color draining from her face, gripping the door frame to keep on her feet. “What?”
The cop was firm, if sympathetic.
“I’m so sorry Mrs. Moore,” he said, eyes somber. “But Hannah Jones was discovered with no heartbeat at the Courtside Club around 2 a.m. a couple hours ago.”
“The Courtside Club?” I parroted dumbly. “But why was she there? At two in the morning?”
The cops looked at one another for a moment, exchanging a glance before turning back to us.
“We can’t come to any conclusions at this time, but a Jorge Ramirez dialed 9-1-1 and called the paramedics to the scene,” said one evenly, gaze steady.
I gaped.
“Jorge? The tennis pro? That’s her teacher,” I said, brow furrowing. “What was he doing with her? They wouldn’t be having a tennis lesson at night.”
The cops merely nodded again, expressions smooth, giving nothing away.
“Again, we’re still investigating Miss,” said one. “We’re just stating the facts, there are no conclusions yet.”
But before I could reply, my mom let out an agonizing wail, ear-piercing and sharp.
“Hannah! My baby girl, my precious baby girl!” she cried out, tears pouring down her face. “My first-born darling, oh god, oh god!”
Both the policemen and I leapt to our feet immediately, helping my mom into her room and tucking her in bed, housecoat and slippers still on. Jane didn’t even notice what was happening, tears flowed down her face as her eyes stared blankly ahead, whimpers of “Hannah, Hannah!” coming out in a broken tone. I wanted to stay with her, I did, but I had something else on my mind. I had to tell Brian before these cops got to him, to try and figure out what the hell had happened.
Because my sister had probably been having an affair. Although I’ve never met Jorge myself formally, there’d been a time or two when I’d picked up Hannah from the club, and she’d come prancing out, flouncing and all smiles, in an indecently short white tennis skirt. But that wasn’t it. There’d been a dark, handsome man with her, some dude who couldn’t have been more than twenty, with a doofus smile and a weird accent.
“Take care, see you next week,” he winked at my sister, waving with a tanned hand.
Hannah laughed that girly laugh, getting into the car before slamming the door shut and wiggling her fingers at him.
“Bye now!” she cooed out the window. “Bye, see you next week.”
And it wasn’t the words or the actions, although those were definitely suspicious. It was her smell. Hannah should have smelled sweaty, or at least just-showered if she’d had a tennis lesson. But instead there was the musk of something intimate, like a man had been rubbing himself all over her, his personal scent penetrating deep into that peaches-and-cream skin. There was the tang of something sensual, like pussy juice mixed with an indefinable scent, and I had to ask her about it, it was too pungent and obvious.
“Hannah,” I said slowly, switching gears to roll out of the parking lot. “Who was that?”
“My tennis instructor, who else?” she breezed carelessly, already scrolling on her phone.
“Well, he’s very handsome,” I said judiciously.
“Of course!” she exclaimed, looking up for a moment. “They often are, pros are often hired by the Club for their looks,” she continued with a wicked smile.
I didn’t even know what to say next. Courtside hired their athletics department staff based on looks, and not skill? Holy shit, this was one fucked up country club. But Hannah was totally unconcerned.
“I get the best two-hour lesson of my life,” she tossed out lightly, shifting a little in the front seat like the memory made her pussy burn. “I come out so relaxed, so happy, you should really try it sometime,” she said with a smirk. “It’d help you loosen up Ang, get that baseball bat out of your ass.”
Again, I didn’t even know what to say. The insult was par for the course, it rolled off my back like water. But was my sister telling me, not so subtly, that Jorge was her man-whore? That instead of a two-hour tennis lesson with rackets and balls, they were doing the dirty instead? And was my brother-in-law paying for all this? Did Brian know? Did he even care? Because my sister sure wasn’t exactly subtle.
But Hannah interrupted my thoughts.
“It’s the way life is,” she said, shrugging carelessly. “If you don’t like Jorge, you can always take lessons with George, his manager,” she added wickedly. “George is old but you know, old guys handle their rackets better than anyone else.”
And I decided right then never to ask her about it again. Because it sounded like my sister was banging all the club pros, not just Jorge. Maybe the Latin lover was her flavor of the month, her current go-to guy. But it seems like Hannah had been doing them all, taking the team because it was her thing, her personal hobby. I gaped involuntarily but then closed my mouth with a snap.
“Um sure,” I muttered, pretending I was too caught up in traffic to really listen. “Sure, maybe.”
But as usual, my sister was already tapping furiously at the keys of her phone, engrossed in something or other and I was relieved to move on. I didn’t want to know about her escapades, didn’t want to know about her dirty side that she didn’t even bother to hide. I just wanted one man, but unfortunately, that one man was her husband.
So after the police left, my thoughts immediately flew to Brian. Oh my god, I had to talk with him, I had to make sure he was okay, that everything was okay. And as soon as the sun dawned, my sneakers were on, and I rushed to my car, ready to zoom to his place.
But what could I say? Dumbfounded, I sat for a moment in the driver’s seat, still and unblinking. Oh by the way, Hannah was a ho, she was actually banging a raft of guys, don’t grieve over her death? My sister was pulling a train because that’s her thing? Oh, and since you’re available now, can I have a turn on your dick? Just slip it in real quick, pretty please?
So I literally sat in my car for a couple hours, a trembling mess. How to approach Brian? Did he even want to talk? Maybe all he wanted was for me to make funeral arrangements, I was family after all. Or maybe he just wanted to be alone, and this was all futile. I’m nothing more than a teen girl, a blip on his radar, a nobody.
But as the hours slipped by, my resolve deepened. On this catastrophic occasion, I had to see him, I had to be with him, even if he didn’t want me around. Maybe I’d just pop my head in and express my condolences for five minutes. It’d give me an opportunity to see him, and if that’s all the alpha male wanted, then it’s what I would take.
So straightening my shoulders, I turned the ignition with determination, making my way to their gated community, my humble Accord puttering by dozens on manors before coming to a stop before the mansion. Oddly, there was a strange car parked out front, a blue sports car that I’d never seen before, but maybe it was a new acquisition. God knows, Brian had enough money, he was rich as Midas, working his fingers to the bone at that law practice.
But as I walked up the circular rotunda, something odd struck me because the front door was slightly open. What the fuck? That was weird, but maybe the UPS guy had just come by to deliver a package and Brian was inside at the moment, putting it away. Maybe he’d forgotten to shut the door afterwards, in his grief. The story was lame and didn’t make sense, even to me, but there could be dozens of explanations.
I tiptoed closer hesitantly, senses alert. But suddenly something made me stop, because there were sounds coming from inside the mansion. Noises that didn’t even sound human at first, raw and primal, making my body come alert, each plump curve shivering and trembling with arousal. I couldn’t step away, my feet were magnetized, I had to see what it was, to put my eyes on the source.
And as I edged closer and closer to the door, the sounds got louder. Holy shit, there was banging and pounding even, the sound of heavy flesh slapping together, and the guttural noises became clear. They were moans, but not high-pitched whimpers and squeals of lust. They were the baritone, ravenous moans of two men, two lusty male animals going at it hard, penetrating deep, having the time of their lives.
Unexpectedly, my body flared. I’m a virgin and the thought of two guys going at it sparked something deep within, pussy pulsing, the juices already beginning to course. Because I wanted in. Without even seeing who it was or what was going on, I wanted in. After all, it had to be Brian, I could make out the bass strains of his voice even if there were no words, I could recognize the tones from his chest from a mile away. I wanted him, in every way, shape and form, my body wasn’t going to say no to anything the alpha offered.
So when I glimpsed the couple on the couch, oh yeah, my curves rocketed to Jupiter, bursting with anticipation and yearning hunger. Because Brian and another man were fucking each other, and the sight was so hard, hot and heavy, the pounding so sensuous, that my mind went blank and I became a mere slave. Like a maiden shedding her cloak of innocence, the true whore came out and I was on my knees beside them in a flash, gulping Brian’s sperm, drinking it deep, slurping like the slut I am. It tasted amazing, hot jets coursing down my throat, making me even thirstier, boobs heaving, cunt dripping non-stop.
And the second man read my mind. He’d lifted off Brian’s dick to let me get a taste, and after I finished milking my lover dry, the blonde man turned hot blue eyes to me.
“Hey Angie,” he said, that rumble a low, sexy caress, like there was nothing weird about me being there. “You wanna some of mine too?”
And just like that I was on him, slurping the cum off his fuckshaft, tasting the stranger’s DNA and loving it. It was musky, different and yet just as good, imbued with the scent of this man mixed with Brian. Because this had to be Jed, my brother-in-law’s law partner, his college buddy. I’d seen pictures of him, the golden hair and tanned skin, a six five Adonis, all rippling muscle and devil-may-care attitude. And now here he was nude, magnificent, leaning back with ecstasy as I cleaned him off, sucking his man parts, making them all my own. It was good, it was great, it was fantastic … and oh god, I only wanted more of them both.