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Don’t Resist The Twisted Tryst

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It was a few days before Valentine’s day when my phone rang. It was (and I realize it’s odd) my ex-fiancé’s mother Marva. She and I had always gotten along well, even in the aftermath of my difficult breakup with Tiffanie, her second daughter. At times Marva had even been so embarrassed by Tiffanie’s behavior that she actually apologized, while expertly and diplomatically not actually taking my side and breaching the mother-daughter bond.

And we had stayed in touch after the breakup. It was an annoying breakup, because everyone just assumed Tiffanie had left me, when in fact, I had been the one to end it. I remember the first time I saw Marva after that, where she gave me a quick but warm hug, and simply said, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t have to say more, the hug and those two simple words meant so much more. She meant sorry you’re hurt, sorry my daughter is so flaky, sorry you wasted all that money on an engagement ring, sorry you were publicly embarrassed, and ultimately, just ‘sorry’. It was nice, I often wondered how such a marvelously warm and wonderful person like Marva ended up with a daughter like Tiffanie.

To be fair though, Marva’s other daughter Lori was a lot like Marva, warm and caring. The one thing they all definitely had in common though, was looks. All of them were a little taller than average, a little thinner than average, and a lot smarter than average. I even had to admit, that if I were ever called before Congress to testify if I now or ever had harbored inappropriate thoughts about either Marva or Tiffannie’s sister Lori, I would have to plead the fifth.

Perhaps I was flattering myself that Marva and I had stayed in touch, though, I was never quite sure. I say that because we also both worked at the same giant insurance firm headquartered in our home town, although at opposite ends of the vast main building. I always felt like she liked me, that we had a special friendship and connection, but I was never entirely sure.

Now, several years later, with an email or text message every few months, I was still mostly single. I was actually happily single, but people always assumed it was heartbreak over the breakup with Tiffanie. In fact, it was more a case of me assuming all relationships would be like the one I had with Tiffanie, and I wanted no part of it.

“Listen Jack, I’m worried about Lori. I want you to call her and take her out to dinner on Valentine’s day. I think you both need to get out for a change of scenery.” Lori was two years older than Tiffanie, and also two years ahead of Tiffanie and I from our high-school years. I had gotten to know her quite well during the time I was with Tiffanie. She was calm and easy-going, just like her mother.

“Oh, what happened?” It had been a little longer than usual since Marva and I had last talked.

“She and her fiancé broke up recently. I think you knew him, right?”

I certainly knew who Charles was. He was a know-it-all prick and all-around Mister Perfect, also a classmate from those high school years. The worst part of it though, was that he was also very intelligent and well read, so he really did seem to know everything. Normally, you can disregard know-it-all types, but Charles made it much more irritating, since he usually really did know it all. Worst of all though, was his appearance. He had that overly groomed look, including a moustache that was so perfectly sculpted, you knew you were dealing with a prick. And he was always clean shaven, even at the end to a long day and night. Clearly he shaved and groomed his moustache at least twice a day.

“Ahh, Charles. Yes, I knew him.” I stopped myself from adding any commentary, although I really wanted to.

“Good riddance. He was such a prick,” she said flatly.

I chuckled as I said, “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but god, he was a prick! Lori was too nice for him. He needs someone more like…”

“Like Tiffanie,” Marva interrupted.

I laughed, but again held myself back from adding any commentary. But Marva was right. From the perspective of their prickly personalities and their sense of superiority, they would be perfect for one another.

“Anyway Jack, it’s just not right, the two of you moping around after your breakups. But more to the point, she seems really down and in need of a good friend.” After a pause, making me daydream that Marva thought Lori needed a good fuck, Marva added, “She’s expecting your call.”

Now it all made sense. Marva, as warm and lovable as she was, always had a plan up her sleeve. I deduced that she had probably already ordered Lori to agree to go out to dinner with me.

I wanted to say something in my defense, to correct Marva that I wasn’t at all moping around, and I wasn’t heartbroken over Tiffanie, now two years removed from my life. But then I remembered the time years ago when I walked into the bathroom at Marva’s house, and had accidentally walked in on Lori, completely naked, brushing her teeth in the mirror. In just that moment, I saw her bakırköy escort ass directly, and her breasts and nicely groomed pubic hair in the mirror, before apologizing and making a hasty retreat. I decided that being cajoled into taking Lori to dinner wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I really appreciate you trying to help. She’ll get over things with a little time,” I said, trying to reason with her, but knowing it was going to be hopeless. “And I promise, I’m fine too.”

“Of course,” Marva said, but with no pause at all and completely ignoring my pretending to resist. “The reservations are in your name at Jacques for 7:00 p.m. I know you’ll enjoy getting out of the house, just as she will. I know you’ll have a fine time.”

I knew I would have a wonderful time. I remembered after the breakup contemplating asking Lori out, but I knew it would have been awkward. Marva intervening was the perfect excuse.

= = = = =

“Hey Lori!” I said as she answered the phone.

“You’re late calling!” she kidded, knowing that I hadn’t called immediately after hanging up with Marva.

“Shh! Don’t tell!”

“Okay, your secret’s safe. This time,” Lori quipped.

“Your mom said I have to take you to dinner at Jacques.”

“Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” Lori joked.

“Oh gosh,” I sighed. “My apologies. Okay. Please Lori, PLEASE, will you please grace me with your presence at Jacques on Valentine’s Day? It was totally my idea to call and ask, and I would be honored if you would accept.”


“I’ll tell your Mom if you don’t!”

“I meant, not Jacques. If I have to go to that place one more time, I’ll scream. Let’s do the Beer Barn instead. I’ll call Jacques and cancel the reservation.” After a moment, she added with a smile in her voice, “Besides, my Mom said I had to say yes.” We both laughed. It seemed like whatever Marva wanted people to do happened, even if she wasn’t exactly bossy about it.

“Well, you know how to make a boy feel special too, dontcha? But it’s a deal!” I agreed. I was dreading having to wear a suit and suffer through dinner at a fancy restaurant. Let me pick you up, rather than meeting there though, no sense both of us having to pay to park.

“You cheap bastard!” After a pause, Lori continued. “No wonder Tiffanie left your ass! But that frugality, that’s why Mom loves you so damn much. She’s always talking about you.”

I smiled to myself, thrilled to hear that. “What makes you assume she left me? Maybe I left her!” I fought back, even though few people believed that. Tiffanie was a princess, and on the surface, out of my league. I had gotten accustomed to nobody believing I had been the one to break up with Tiffanie.

“Ha!” Lori replied. I decided not to mention her breakup with Charles. I thought he was an uptight prick, but Lori had definitely seemed upset over the way things ended.

“I’ll pick you up at 6:30 on Valentine’s day then. See you then!”

= = = = =

On the drive to pick Lori up, Karma intervened. The green light I had sped up to get through turned red at one of our town’s most busy and irritating intersections. it would be four minutes and 30 seconds before the light turned green again. But there he was, a street vendor with a painter’s bucket full of roses, right next to where I was stopped. I chuckled, since the “Roses $10” sign had been hurriedly altered in a mismatching color, to change the one into a four, so now it was a “Roses $40” sign. We made eye contact, and he saw me reaching into my pocket for my wallet. “All I have is this $20, can you help me out?” I asked, trying to look sympathetic.

With a roll of his eyes, the street vendor didn’t even respond verbally, but extended a bouquet of roses at me, out of arms reach until I got out the twenty-dollar bill.

‘Congratulations,’ I thought to myself. I bought her roses.

As I rang Lori’s doorbell, I held the roses behind my back. As she opened the door, I said “Surpriiiise!” and showed her the roses. “And your Mom didn’t even tell me to buy them! All my idea!” I added proudly.

“Aww, how sweet! Thank you!” After a pause, she momentarily took on a more serious face, and said “Listen, I’m sorry about teasing you about Tiffanie. I really always thought she treated you awfully. She just couldn’t care less about anyone but herself.”

“Well, thanks for saying that. I always thought the same about Charles, actually. Not that he treated you awfully, but you’re so…” I struggled for the right words to continue what I had started. Then I thought of the perfect thing to say, and continued, “You’re so, NOT like Charles.”

She laughed out loud. “I was wondering where you were going to go with that. Nice recovery!”

“Thank you, thank you,” I said. I was suddenly very happy to be here with Lori. It felt like old times, since during the time I was dating her sister, I had gotten to know her so well.

“I’m başakşehir escort almost ready, let me put up the flowers and take a quick gulp of my Lemonade.” Lori quickly put the flowers in a drinking glass just to get them in water, then she opened the fridge, and in her endearingly casual way, stood in front of the refrigerator with its door open, took out the bottle of Lemonade, unscrewed the cap, and took a gulp of Lemonade by drinking straight from the bottle. Just like a bachelor living alone would. I was duly impressed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your Mom,” I joked.

“Oh good! I’m safe from a spanking then. Although it’s been so long since I got a good one…” she trailed off into one of her deadpan one-liner jokes. I tried my best to be smooth and go with the flow and laugh, but in real life, I’m pretty sure I looked flustered and at a loss for words. Did Lori like being spanked? And how hot would it be, Marva spanking Lori’s bare bottom? I had to quash thoughts like this from popping into my head. “Let’s drink!” she said, breaking the awkward silence.

= = = = =

We got to Beer Barn. Even though it was Valentine’s day, it was more known as an after-work gathering place, rather than where you would go on a romantic date. Besides, we weren’t on a date. This was my ex-girlfriends’ older sister, and we were just getting out of the house. And the timing was perfect, I spotted a group of people at one of the booths in back starting to put on their jackets, so I beckoned Lori and we edged toward them, and nabbed the booth ahead of several other annoyed people who had been less skilled at stalking tables at seat-yourself type restaurants. Lori was stealthy as a ninja too, it had been her who actually slipped into the booth to claim it as ours. We got the best and most private booth in the place, without waiting at all.

The waitress came by to clear the table of the previous party, and joked, “Wow, you guys are good! I’m impressed.”

“Thank you! We make a pretty good team. He’s not as dumb as he looks,” Lori joked. “Whenever you get a chance, we’ll take a bucket of beers please?”

“You got it!” the waitress said. She was older than your typical waitress, and seemed almost out of place. She was perhaps fifty years old, very attractive, and had a wise old sage aura about her. She looked at Lori, then at me. She seemed to be psychoanalyzing us, reading us like open books, and drawing conclusions, all in a spilt-second.

= = = = =

“So. What really happened with Tiffanie?” Lori had a few traits in common with her mother, including the surprise ambush question.

Although I had a reasonably well rehearsed answer that I told most people, how we just drifted apart, I knew well enough that it wouldn’t work on Lori. I tried anyway. “It’s hard to say. I guess we just drifted apart. I know it’s hard to believe, but it really was me who ended it.”

“Actually, I believe you. I really do.” Her look as she said that told me that she realized she had to try to convince me that she believed me. “Tiffanie was unusually quiet about what happened. Usually when she dumped guys, she made a point to tell everybody about it. Her silence spoke volumes.” I nodded, not realizing that had happened. “And I just never saw you and her as a couple. She’s so. Umm. She’s so…” Lori trailed off again, deciding not to say what she really felt.

“Mean?” I said. Lori shook her head no.

“Always angry at something?” Again, a head shake.

“Selfish?” This time, a shrug, as if, obviously yes, but that’s not it either.

“So Tiffanie.” I said flatly, realizing I was making a joke.

“God, yes, that’s it. I mean, yes, all of the above too, but yes, so very Tiffanie. She just seemed like she had something up her ass.” As I nodded, she threw in one of her classic one-liners. “But not in a fun way.” she quipped.

“I know,” I said, trying to ignore the ‘fun way’ comment, although again, I realized I probably looked awkward. I even detected a slight smile, as if Lori was chuckling at making me flustered. “It’s funny, the worst part of it all, was that no matter what it was or where we were going, she took an hour to get ready. And god, I hated the big fake nails too,” I said.

As I said that, I involuntarily looked at Lori’s slender but strong looking fingers, with healthy, shortish natural nails, no polish at all. I momentarily imagined pulling her middle finger into my mouth and sucking it, before snapping out of my momentary daydream. Lori was basically a Tomboy, athletic, always a Jeans and T-Shirt kind of girl, but nonetheless, more beautiful without even trying, than almost any women out there.

“Charles was the same way. So uptight. Something wedged up his ass too, although I’m not sure how it got there,” she said in a puzzling tone of voice.

“We should fix them up!” I joked.

“We could pretend we’re being nice and showing that we don’t hold a grudge, when secretly, we’re sentencing bebek escort to a lifetime of making one another miserable. It’s perfect! I love it!” Lori replied.

She followed on. “Actually, I was the one who ended it with Charles too. He was selfish in so many ways. Finally…” Again, Lori trailed off. This time was different though, she was about to say something, but stopped herself.

“Finally?” I inquired. “Keep going though, I’m really interested. I couldn’t stand his damn moustache; it was always so carefully groomed. I think he loved it more than you!”

“Oh god, that fuckin’ moustache.” After a pause, “And you better believe, he wouldn’t do ANYTHING that might mess it up either. God, I’m talking too much. Maybe after the next beer.”

“Waitress!!” I jokingly looked around, calling for the waitress, making it clear I wanted to hear more.

Lori laughed. It was always nice to hear her laugh. And in spite of the kidding around, we needed a break from the negativity of talking about our former relationships. The topic shifted around to kidding about Marva, about how close Lori and Marva were, a combination of a mother-daughter relationship, but also good friends who shares everything. And about work, about Sports, and a couple times, Lori’s instigation, a double entendre now and then. Our meal was delightfully and casually delicious. By the time we finished eating, we had both had three beers and we were starting to notice the effects.

“Another round?” Lori asked.

“Just for you, since I’m driving. But drink up,” I suggested emphatically.

“Smart. But I will have another. Gotta use those D.D.s when you can!” she joked, using the abbreviation for designated driver as if she was talking about breast sizes. She looked down at her own breasts, pointing out the irony that her breasts were the perfectly appropriate size for her slender body.

I chuckled nervously. Then wondered, had I been involuntarily staring at her breasts? It seemed as if she hadn’t been wearing a bra, but her blouse was covered with her cardigan sweater. “Your breasts are the perfect size. They’ll still be perky and perfect when you’re fifty.” Wow, had I said that out loud? The beers must be hitting me.

“Hey buster. I’M fifty,” our waitress, who had just walked up to the table said in mock anger. “What’s wrong with being fifty?”

I hadn’t seen her coming. I’m sure I was babbling. “Oh. Um. Nothing, nothing at all. She was complaining as if she wanted big boobs, and I was saying that they’re over-rated, that her boobs will look awesome when she’s fifty. Like y…” I stopped talking dead in my tracks, realizing what I was saying, and that I had moved my gaze over to the waitress’ breasts as I spoke.

“Jesus Jack, you’re checking out her boobs too?” Lori asked, teasingly. She and the waitress laughed, while I acted embarrassed, but really was happy to be included on inside joking like this.

The next beer came, and Lori proceeded to drink at a healthy pace. I wished we had taken a cab. The conversation continued, when Lori suddenly did something that she had done as long as I had known her. She completely interrupted the flow and the tone of the conversation, and said flatly, “Ok. What really happened?”

“What? Why don’t you believe me that I broke it off? I did!”

“Oh, I know. I believe that part in spite of, you know, everything. It’s just, tell me what really happened.”

“It’s just. Well.”

“Spill!” Lori said. “Now.”

The waitress came back at the same time, and said, “Yeah. Spill. And any more beer?” Lori declined, gesturing she had enough.

The waitress continued. “O.K., speaking of spilling. I can’t figure you two out. Usually, I can read people. I see people on first dates, couples, coworkers, all kinds of people. But you two, I can’t figure out. Clearly you both want to fuck one another’s brains out right here on this table, but something’s holding you back. What’s the deal?”

“Eew!” Lori said in a tone of friendly disgust. “He’s my sister’s ex-fiancé. Eew!”

“Yeah, and she’s my ex-fiancé’s sister. Double Eew!” I added.

“Sister’s ex, eh?” The waitress said. Then proceeded into a friendly interrogation. “When did you and this sister of hers break up?”

“About two years ago,” I answered.

“Were you two doin’ it behind her sister’s back?” she asked, almost with an anticipatory twinkle in her eyes. I shook my head no.

“Did you leave her sister so you could go out with her?” she asked me, nodding toward Lori.

“Nope. Remember, the sister and I broke up two years ago. So no, not at all.”

“Did you encourage your sister to dump him, so you could have him?” she asked Lori.

“Again, Eew,” Lori joked.

“Who asked who out tonight?”

“My mom made us go out together. She told us to both to get ourselves out there. Something about us moping around. I was engaged, it ended not too long ago. And he’s so heartbroken over my sister, he hasn’t looked at another woman since,” Lori answered. Then after a pause for comedic timing, she added, “Until your boobs, that is.”

“Wait. Your Mom likes him enough, to be willing to have you go out to dinner with him?” Lori nodded. The waitress raised an eyebrow, nodding in her own mom-like manner.

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