Looking back on my high school days, I can laugh now. But back then it wasn’t so easy. Suppressing the heat and scent that my loins oozed, ignoring the fierce pulse in my muscles of sexual longings. I had to so that I could aid Mother in dealing with my wild sisters.
I imagine it’s all what was supposed to be. Because you know, after keeping my lust and passion bottled up for so long, it would be just the raw fuel for an supermassive explosion of sexual energy that would rock my world, my body, and the universe as well.
But I get ahead of myself. My oldest sister, Vivian, got pregnant a few months before graduation with Lenny Colabello who worked at DaVinci’s Auto. Mother insisted she graduate and get her diploma, and Father made them have a quickie wedding.
Vivian named the baby Leonardo and saved up the big tips from her elderly clients at Mane Event Salon where she worked. The old men loved her young, adoring eyes, sensuous shampooing hands and charming giggle that made her big breasts jiggle at all the flattering hot whispers in her ear while jazz tunes played and she danced and laughed and served shots of Jack Daniels.
The “happy ending” pat on their dicks that were bulging through their pants by the time the shampoo was over doubled her tips too, and in just one year she opened her own hair salon, Amore Galore. She was booked solid for months straight and rented booth space to hot, hair stylists with big breasts that were stuffed into French maid outfits.
Business soared. No advertising needed, just word of mouth. Lenny didn’t mind, because she made so much money he could eventually quit his job and just screw around and get high with the young blonde cashiers at Spendlow Thrift Store next door before picking up Leo at daycare.
At school my younger twin sisters, Regina and Bettina, excelled in home economics. Instead of sewing blouses with cap sleeves or calf-length skirts that I hid myself beneath, however, the Twins’ sewing machine roared to the assemblage of gold and aqua-sequined outfits with matching thongs and g-strings designed for their exotic dance routines they choreographed together in the garage after being thrown out of Dona Elaine’s school of ballet for lewd behavior the summer before their junior year.
Mother started having nervous ticks after that on the right side of her face, and it made her Margarita drinking difficult, so she switched to drinking rum and cokes with a straw. I stayed close to home to help her since my father’s out-of-town trips were longer and longer by enrolling at University of North Florida on a scholarship and majored in art history and English.
I resisted the advances of my professors, how they stared at my breasts as they discussed my Latin or chemistry homework. Even my geography teacher Ms. Doan would watch my ass as I walked out the door every day. I did have a real thing for my Contemporary Literature Professor, Mr. Tomich. His lips tucked behind his thin beard around his square jaw was so soft-spoken with the way he said, “Hemingway’s women.” It aroused me everytime, and I had to cross my legs a lot and squeeze them tight to shut down the fever in my loins and my imagination that had me joining my sisters in a strip tease before pinning him down for me to suck his cock.
He even one day after class slipped his hand on my knee when I asked him to look at my Raymond Carver essay. I held my breath. I could feel my nipples harden and his soft, dark eyes that were locked onto mine.
“You’re gorgeous, smart, sexy,” he said. “I’ve been watching you.” Then he looked down at my nipples pushing through my sweater. When his hand moved up my thigh, I wanted to give in, jump him and kiss him, but I shook it off and ran off because I would have exploded at that moment since the moisture in my panties already was giving way with my sweat. And because real trouble was waiting at home and Mother would need me.
The twins were always quite dramatic and flashy with their clothes they designed and sewed. They were in all the high school musicals. Their senior year they had convinced the drama teacher, Miss Kirchbaum, the spring before to do Gypsy for the spring musical even though the PTA had an uproar and had her fired when they found out and the new teacher replaced it with Oklahoma instead. But that didn’t stop my twin sisters….
Because of their popularity and dancing talents, they were naturally picked to help choreograph, and they kept everything well-behaved. Or so everyone thought. I took mother to opening night and she beamed proudly at Regina and Bettina wrapped up in high-collared brown and pink prairie dresses for the opening numbers. But when the Dream Ballet scene came on, half-way through the twins broke the routine I had seen them rehearse at home.
The band must’ve been in on it, because Regina screamed, “Hang on folks, now the real show begins! YEAH!” and she snapped her fingers as she cued Rex Margoli, the jazz band sax player, who stood up, cued his pals in the band and shouted, “1, 2,3, here we go,” as the band switched to playing The Stripper.
My mother sat with her jaw dropped and eyes rolled back in her head as I stared at my twins sisters on stage strip out of their innocent red and green lacy dance hall girl outfits as they strutted their long legs in high heels downstage toward the audience to the strip-tease music.
Then Regina and Bettina’s long red nails that they had meticulously manicured the night before ripped open their bodices to reveal braless firm round breasts with just red star tassels covering their nipples.
“Here you go boys,” they shouted as they threw the bodices to the old men from Vivian’s salon who were all invited and sat wide-eyed in the front row. The Twins’ hips were clad in only red sequined g-strings with pink fur covering their pussy and black garters to hold up their fishnet stockings over their tone thighs.
The Twins bumped and grinded, swayed their sumptuous asses to the audience, which had broken out into shouts, whistles and jeers as all the male students rushed the front of the stage trying to touch them, grabbing at their legs and fighting over Vivian’s clientele to do it. Regina would squat down and thrust her pelvis forward fast as if she were a reincarnated Middle Eastern belly dancer as the principal, Mr. Duggan, sat dumbfounded and stared at the stage with a hard-on as the audience roared.
Regina and Bettina kissed each other, took turns shimmying their bodies up and down each other and blowing kisses to the audience. Other girls, even fat ones, started climbing on stage and stripping and dancing naked wild with sweat next to them because of the frenetic, erotic energy the Twins’ dancing and shocker behavior unleashed into the theatre that night. I even felt the rush and almost jumped up, thinking, go Regina and Bettina! Do your thing! But I caught a glimpse of Mother sobbing and I kept myself planted in my seat.
By the time the high school jock Brad Moulton was climbing on stage and put a $1 bill in Bettina’s g-string, that’s when the velvet curtain came down, and the lights went out as Mother started screaming, the exit doors flew open and I rushed her out with everybody else into the spring Florida night.
Needless to say the Twins were expelled from school after that, but already 18 and with every North East Florida newspaper screaming headlines about them replete with photos that the high school Photo Club President Marsha Livingston sold for $500 a pop, they started dancing at the Bus Stop topless bar with a large clientele and a $1000 each signing bonus. They even had their own marquis with their names on it. “Double Trouble” they headlined, and Vivian did their hair and makeup every night with her clientele in tow in the front row.
Their costumes and hot duo dance routines became so popular that eventually the Twins would open their own club, Orchid Royale, along the St. John’s River. Father was indicted for selling Valium and Xanax samples to the prostitutes’ pimps he frequented in Atlanta on business trips. And Mother died in front of the television, a copy of Gone With the Wind found in the DVD player.
So that was my college career. Graduated magna cum laude. It wasn’t until later I would have my own big act of love and sex. But that is another story… to be continued, dear reader. Do tune in until next time. xoxoxoxo