I keep assuring her I’m fine. We’re still standing in the hallway, I in my flimsy dressing gown, my sister in her party finery, and it’s beginning to dawn on Gina that I’m not going to ask her to make herself at home the way I usually do.
“Look,” she says. “The reason I came…. I’m not sure how to say this. It’s just that there was somebody else asking about you when you left, somebody totally unsuitable. Your phone is off so I thought I’d come by to warn you. He’s not the sort -”
Suddenly I hear a sound from the bedroom. He’s switched on the DVD!
I’m going to kill him, I think.
Gina’s cheeks color slightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize you were… entertaining.”
I smirk as I think back to the last few hours.
“I’m not. Entertaining, that is,” I say truthfully.
Even in her unease, Gina is all prim and proper. My perfect parents’ perfect daughter, with perfect manners and perfect composure. I can bet anything that she didn’t used to sneak around behind their backs sucking off lodgers. And when was the last time anybody drank champagne out of her pussy?
Suddenly I feel almost sorry for her. Poor perfect Gina. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
“Well,” she says, “I think I’ll be -”
Just at that point, he opens the bedroom door and joins us in the hallway. His chest is bare, but, thank goodness, he’s put on his jeans.
His very tight, very black jeans.
Gina gasps. I wonder whether she too has spotted the tell-tale swelling behind the zipper.
He flashes me a cheeky grin. “Is there a fire yet?” he asks. “You said I could come out if there was one."