Jacks

The room is too bright, my head is pounding, and it tastes like a cat used my mouth for a litter box.

Where am I?

It hurts to open my eyes, but I open them anyway. I need to be human today, especially since there is a brunch with the rest of the wedding party and left over guests. I slowly roll over and my arm meets softness. That isn’t the bedding; that’s a woman. I look over and I see a mess of long blonde hair, soft curves, and just a peek of breast. Definitely a woman.

I run my palm down my face and breathe out. Not only can I taste my breath, the smell is killing me. I start to remove the covers from my body and note that I’m stark naked. Not giving two shits — obviously, the chick beside me already saw everything I have — I slowly sit up. Even that feat was difficult, as any movement feels like someone taking an ice pick to my brain.

“Where are you going?” my bedmate mumbles into her pillow.

“I need to use the dunny,” I reply gruffly, finally standing. My ass is bared to her and my cock swings freely as I walk into the hotel bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My chest has bite marks, claw marks, and tiny fingerprint-shaped bruises, I have a hickey on my neck and, as I turn my body slowly in the mirror, more marks like those on my front are continued just as viciously on my back. Whoever this chick is, she’s a fucking wildcat!

Whatever happened last night must have been a damn good time, if the marks on my body are any indication. I just wish I could remember what happened. Everything is fuzzy from after my toast to the bride and groom. Not just fuzzy but nonexistent.

Malcolm and Rebeckha, my best friends and business partners, got married yesterday. We’re at some beachside hotel near Los Angeles and, apparently, I had a really good time last night.

I start the shower. As the water warms up, I brush my teeth then step inside the stall to wash away the first layer of yet-to-be determined decisions off my body. Climbing out, even the fogged up mirror makes it clear that nothing has erased the fact that I look beat up. I brush my teeth again and leave the bathroom.

The mystery woman is still half under the covers, on her back with her face still shielded. I rustle around in my suitcase until I find a polo with some shorts and begin to dress myself. That’s brunch attire, right?

My bedmate finally stirs.

“Do you feel just as shitty as I feel?” she asks in a groggy voice as she sits up, her thick accent clear. It’s a voice I’m very familiar with.

When I turn and see her face, I’m not sure if I should feel elation or guilt.

Sitting naked in my hotel bed is Malcolm’s — my best friend, my business partner, the groom — little sister, Cameron.

Man, am I fucked!

I’m silent, yet my mind is racing. I am not prepared to be face to face with Mal’s little sister with the evidence of what we did last night all over my body, but I have no choice.

“Jacks, did you hear me?” she asks as the sheet falls down from her body, baring her full breasts to my hungry eyes. I lick my lips on pure instinct as she blushes and pulls the sheet back up with a smirk.

I shake my head as if to clear my thoughts. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” My eyes meet hers.

“Do you feel like shit too? How much did we drink last night?” She stretches.

“A lot. We drank a lot.” I pull on my shirt.

“That we did. Holy shit, did I do all that to you?” she asks, motioning to my torso.

“Yeah, I think you did.”

“From what I can remember of last night, it was like the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.”

“How on earth would you know what that ride is like? Wait, you’re comparing last night to an amusement park ride?” Why am I asking her stupid questions? There are better questions that I could be asking, like WHAT THE FUCK WERE WE THINKING?

“Jacks, I’ve been to Disneyland. Has anyone ever told you that your body is a wonderland?” She smiles, probably amused by her own use of the cliché. Her grin gets wide as she looks me up and down.

“Are you quoting John Mayer?” I roll my eyes.

“Oh, shut up. So, stripping has done your body good over the years,” she says, eyeing me as if she can see through my clothes.

“I haven’t stripped in a year, Cam.” I cross my arms.

“Beside the point. So, what time is this brunch?” she asks, the sheet still pooled at her waist looking incredible.

I look to the clock on the nightstand. “Eleven.”

“Oh, good. We have an hour.” She stretches. Her movements cause the sheet to move down her body. I jump forward and pull the sheet back over her, even though all I want to do is to continue looking at her.

“Cam,” I warn even though my entire body is lighting up to her.

She smiles coyly and holds the sheet in place but looks up at me with desire in her eyes, a smile forming on her pink lips.

“Cameron,” I start, using her full name to convey the seriousness of this situation. “Can you just get dressed or go shower, or hell, go back to your own room? If Mal came in here and saw you naked in my bed, I’d have a shit-ton of explaining to do.”

“Mal is busy fucking his bride.” She pouts, crossing her arms and pushing her breasts up under the sheet.

I’ve thought about her over the past year, ever since she sent me an email after Mal and I opened up our club. I did what any other warm-blooded male would do and stalked her Facebook profile and checked out her Instagram feed. Glimpses of last night are returning to my memory and now I remember mentioning that to her last night, which makes me slightly embarrassed. Cameron is four years younger than Mal and I. When he and I still lived in the same building in Sydney, She would come over to his flat once a week to do her laundry and eat his food. While she is wildly attractive, she is still Mal’s little sister and somewhere there’s a mates handbook that clearly states one mate should not date or bed another mate’s little sister. She would hang out with us on occasion, but she was always his sister, there was no overlooking that fact. I've only recently thought differently...

“Cam. Seriously. Can we call this what it is, a wedding hook-up, and go about our business? You’re heading back home and I…, well I’ll be heading back to Vegas later today. Your brother would freak out if he caught us,” I ask, hoping I don’t come off like a complete arsehole as that’s that last thing that I want to be right now.

“Didn’t Mal tell you? I’ve moved to Vegas. Well, I’m moving to Las Vegas. My stuff is being shipped there as we speak. So by the end of today when I get back there, I’ll be staying permanently. And besides, Mal is not my keeper. I don’t have to get his permission for everything that I do.” She smiles proudly. "I'm an adult."

I’m stunned silent. I try to recall any memory of Mal mentioning this news, but I come up with nothing.

“What are you planning to do in Vegas?”

“I’ve been working in hospitality, and what better place is there to build my career?”

“Right.” I nod. She’s correct on that account.

“So let’s stop with the avoidance. Last night, I recall us mentioning that there was some feelings towards another and I think that we justified that I want you, and that you want me. Let’s go another round to work up an appetite and then go hang out with the rest of the wedding party,” she says with confidence.

“As great as that sounds,” —being completely honest here, because it does sound pretty fantastic— “we really should be focused on the fact that your brother and your new sister-in-law — my best friends, mind you — will be suspicious if we show up to brunch together, especially if you’re still wearing your bridesmaid dress.” I hold up her gold dress.

The look of excitement in her eyes dims.

“Well, fuck. Why must you make total sense?”

“Because without being rational, we would be wrapped up in each other in bed, and then late to eat, which I suspect the both of us really need. The food part…. Yeah, the food.”

“You win this round, Jacks, but it’s just round one!” She throws the bedding off of her and grabs the dress out of my hand. I get a full flash of her entire body. And it is perfection.

* * *

I’ve been back home for two weeks since Mal and Beck’s wedding. It’s also been two weeks since I’ve seen Cameron. All of Cameron. I know she’s somewhere in Las Vegas, but I have no specifics.

My job doesn’t allow for the standard schedule of a nine-to-fiver. I’m the night manager and half owner of the hottest co-ed revue club in Las Vegas. My nights are spent attending rehearsals, managing club business, and being on the floor and backstage to make sure it all runs smoothly and guests have a fantastic time. After most shifts, I don't get home until the early hours of the morning. My schedule is that of a tourist in Las Vegas, out late at night and sleeping in during the day and doing what needs to be done before starting the night all over again. Since my schedule is so unusual, it’s highly unlikely that I would run into her.

It’s four a.m. when I finally get home from the club, and I’m achy and hungry. I’m pulling my car into the garage of my townhouse when I notice a dark shadow on my front porch. Once inside, I shut off the engine. I rack my brain for possible individuals who would be at my home this time of night and come up empty. I live in a gated community, so I’m not feeling threatened, yet I put my keys through my fingers, Wolverine-style, before slowly walking out of the garage and around the side of my home. The small figure is seated and leaning against the door. As I get closer, it's obvious from the deep breaths and light snores coming from the form that the person is asleep. I nudge a foot with the toe of my shoe and startle her awake.

Long blonde hair and a mouth shaped like perfect “o” are the first things that I notice.

What the fuck is she doing on my doorstep?

How did she know where I live?

That mouth would look great wrapped around my cock.

“Cam? What are you doing here? How long have you been here?” I ask, crouching down to get eye level with her.

Her eyes go from hazy to focused as recognition sets in and she realizes where she is, and then she straightens.

“I was kicked out of my friend’s house. She wanted to be alone with her boyfriend for a few days. I couldn’t go to Malcolm and Beck’s place and I had your address from Mal just in case. I’m sorry. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. What time is it?” she rambles as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes and then the back of her neck.

“It’s late. Let’s get you inside. How did you get into the neighborhood anyway?” I ask, holding out my hand to help her up.

Her small hand fits perfectly in my large one as I pull her up. She gets to her feet and her body presses against mine as she finds her balance. Her other hand lands on my chest and she offers me a hesitant smile.

“I jumped one of the lower fences. Tore my jeans a bit. I’m sorry to just show up like this. I don’t mean to just push my way in. I just didn’t know where else to go, I don’t have many friends in the area yet and I…. I—,” she says quickly. My arm reaches around her shoulders protectively as I walk her through my garage.

“Don’t worry about it, Cam. I have a few bedrooms just gathering dust. You aren’t imposing by any means but I just want to warn you, I'm not home a lot so my place is pretty bare and I'm pretty sure the fridge is too.”

“Thanks for the warning. You’re male last time I checked, so that sounds pretty normal.” She cocks her head to look up at me.

I ignore her teasing, and stop at the door into my home to press the button on the wall to close the garage door.

I let her enter first and watch as she takes in her surroundings. I’ve never paid any attention to how visitors view my home. It’s simply furnished; there are no expensive paintings on the walls, no gaudy furniture and very few personal touches, aside from one small part of the house. Cameron doesn’t say anything as she walks through my space; however, I’m trying to see what she sees.

“There’s not much in the fridge, I don’t eat a lot of meals here at home. You have your choice of two bedrooms. There is only one with a bathroom attached, but I have three bathrooms total, so you can have your own either way. Whichever you want, let me know and I’ll change the sheets.”

“Jacks, I’m sure whatever sheets are on there right now are fine. Thank you. This is more than enough. I’m sorry to put you out like this.”

“Listen, you’re fine. Grab a room, get some sleep and we can chat in the morning. I don’t have to be at the club until six tomorrow night.” I wave her in the direction of the bedrooms while ignoring my cock straining behind my zipper. The knowledge that she’s close by and the memories of what we did the last time that we saw one another has him on full alert.

* * *

I wake to the intoxicating smell of bacon. Like a cartoon character, my nose leads my body out of bed, then out of my bedroom to the kitchen where Cameron is shaking her tight ass to an unknown beat.

I stand in the entry way for a moment before I make my presence known by sliding up behind her and peering over her shoulder as her ass lightly brushes against the front of my sweats, which could be a big mistake. She jumps and her back bumps my shoulder. Her body falls against mine, including my now semi-erect cock.

“What the hell! Don’t ever sneak up on someone when they’re cooking bacon!” she shrieks.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted a closer look,” I say honestly.

“You wanted a closer look at bacon cooking?”

“Yeah. I generally don’t eat it, so it’s fascinating to watch, and it smells delicious as well.” I nod stupidly. “How did you sleep?” I ask her as I step away.

“Like a rock. That bed is magical. Thank you for letting me stay here last night.

“No problem. How long do you need a place to stay?”

“Oh no, I can go to Mal’s. It was late when I left Sam’s house, so I felt bad going over there.”

“Hey, I’ve got all this space. Don’t feel like you need to leave.”

Why am I opening up this can of worms? She’s your best friend’s little sister — practically family! What am I trying to accomplish here? I must still be fucking tired with only four hours of sleep!

You should definitely give her a place to lay her head. On your pillow while you’re hovering over her.

The devil and the angel of my conscience are both giving me valid reasoning. I shake my head and smile.

“So, Jacks, the last time we saw each other was brunch after, well, you know…. What have you been up to?” She just gets to the point.

“Yeah, it’s been a few weeks,” I mumble. Fourteen days, seven hours to be precise.

“Do you have any recollection of the night?”

“Some,” I lie, biting my bottom lip.

It’s true. At first I didn’t remember anything, but bits and pieces have come back to me here and there. Those bits and pieces have led to many cold showers. By the way, cold showers do not help one bit. You want to know what does help? Rubbing one out! Which I’ve done a lot over the past two weeks.

I have flashes of skin, of teeth scraping along parts of my body that haven’t had a woman's intimate touch in a while, and hands roaming all over the place.

I can feel my cock hardening again as my thoughts run rampant.

“Jacks. Jacks?” Her voice cuts through the images and I blink back to reality.

“What’s that?” I focus my eyes on her.

“So what have you been up to?” Her hand is on her jutted-out hip, and her back is to me while she turns the bacon over. With this view, I have the opportunity to check her out while she isn’t looking. A part of me feels ashamed, but the other part is blaming my gawking of her for the shitty sleep and my mind not thinking straight.

“Work,” I reply.

And thinking about the night we spent together.

“That’s it?” She looks over her shoulder at me then resumes her eyes on the stove in front of her.

“Yup.” I nod to reinforce my fib keeping my eyes firmly attached to her arse.

Fucking liar.

“All work and no play makes Jacks a dull boy.”

“I’m not dull. I’m running a successful club that needs my attention more than my social life does,” I protest.

“So, you wake up and go to work? Rinse and Repeat?”

“Well, I work out in the middle, I socialize with your brother and Beck and I go to social events as requested. Enough about me.” We don’t need to go over how much of a workaholic I am. What have you been doing since you moved to the city?”