So I find myself in the one room of the mansion I rarely visit, the library. Image is important to my family, so even though nobody other than Andrea's even ever actually been to college, we still have an impressive-looking library. The library contains mostly books bound in leather, but there are still some regular hardcovers and even some paperbacks. I start looking at the titles, idly wondering if anyone's actually taken them off the shelves and read them, or if the maid just comes by twice a week to dust them.
“You should try The Count of Monte Cristo. It's about someone seeking revenge for being wronged,” someone says behind me, and I turn to see Andrea sitting in one of the leather lounge chairs. Either she came in nearly silently, or maybe I'm just more distracted than I thought. Probably a bit of both, since she's capable of sneaking around like a ninja when she wants. She's dressed in her normal daytime clothes. For Andrea that means she's wearing her take on a power suit, wearing hip-hugging pants with a matching vest and blouse, plus four-inch heels. When you see the whole thing paired with her long, black hair cascading down her back, it gives her a really severe appearance. Andi's finishing up her MBA and probably can already take down a lot of young executives in the brains department. “It seems appropriate for what's going on in your life,” she remarks casually.
“Our lives,” I retort, moving over to sit down next to her. I'm wearing a tank top and shorts. When you see our outfits side by side, I look even more casual by comparison, but it's not like I need to get dressed up just to sit around the house. Hell, the staff should just consider themselves lucky I even took a shower before my workout today. “She embarrassed the whole family.”
Andrea scowls, making her look older than her twenty years. I've pointed that out to her before, but it just makes her scowl more when I do. “No, she embarrassed you. She pissed off Peter and put herself in danger as a result. But she hasn't done anything to me.”
“Whatever. If she takes down this family, which is what it seems like she wants to do, you can say sayonara to your gravy train, too.”
Her scowl disappears, replaced by the sarcastic grin that is the second most common expression she normally wears. “I don't need a gravy train, niichan. I'm going to break free on my own someday. I've got things to do as well.”
I nod, half-frowning to myself. Andrea's always had this strange little driven side to her personality. I've never really been able to see all of it, but she hints at it sometimes. “If you say so, Andrea. But then why haven't you broken free yet?”
“Just wait. I'm biding my time, that's all. Patience can be a virtue.”
I shake my head and get up to walk toward the door, having had more than enough of this conversation. “Yeah, well, my patience is at an end. I need to do something to take my mind off this bullshit, have a little fun.”
Andrea shakes her head, snorting. “What's her name going to be?”
“Their names, Andrea. Their names.”
Tiffany is an old hook-up of mine. We've played all sorts of games together, but what she loves to do best with me is costume play. I swear this bitch has a closet reserved solely for the outfits she wears when she's fucking me. So far I've seen various costumes, company uniforms, and other clothes specifically for fucking, but she's almost never repeated any of the pieces with me. Most of them allow for easy access between the legs.
Today she's Doctor Tiffany, although I doubt a real doctor would wear a skirt this short and still expect to be taken seriously. Or not get slapped with a malpractice suit with this much cleavage showing. “Hello, Jackson. What seems to be the trouble today?” she asks in a breathy voice.
I smirk. She's a terrible actress, but I didn't invite her over to read Shakespeare. I lean back on my bed and give a fake cough. “Oh Doctor, you know how it is. My throat's sore and my body aches all over. And I think my balls are turning blue.”
“Aww, you poor, poor man,” Tiffany says, giving me a naughty smile. I know a lot of men who'd already be creaming their jeans at that smile alone. She knows how to work what she's got, and she's got a body like Carmen Electra in her prime. “It sounds like I might need some help for this exam. Nurse?”
The door to my walk-in closet swings open, and Allison comes out. She's my other little playmate. She and Tiffany are pretty much night and day in appearance, but they're good friends, and sometimes more than just good friends. Allie is short where Tiffany is tall, and skinny where Tiffany is stacked, but she still has a sex drive that borders on the nymphomaniac level. And despite only having little A cup tits, she's got an ass that you just want to pour some maple syrup over and lick out for hours. Just like Tiffany, she's wearing a costume, but no nurse I've ever seen has ever worn thigh high stockings that stop an inch below the hem of her uniform.
“Yes, Doctor?” she asks, prancing her way across the floor. Allie loves playing up her youthfulness, and always tries to come across as an innocent young thing, even when she's riding my cock like a pro rodeo cowgirl. “How can I help you?”
“This patient, Mr. Jackson... he's not feeling good at all. He says his throat hurts, and his body aches.”