“I am beautiful.” This time she sounded more sincere.
“Better. Keep saying it to yourself and keep believing it. Now, what else did they do to you?”
“There was the spray tan-”
“You already had a tan.”
“Not all over.” She blushed again.
“Interesting. Go on.” He prompted.
“A sauna and a massage. That was very relaxing. Hair.” She flounced the cascade of ringlets that had been flat and straight that morning. The hairdresser had been very sensitive to her concerns about her back. He’d layered her hair and lightly permed it so it completely de-emphasised her ‘hump’.
“It looks terrific.” Andrew felt another compliment was due.
“Nails.” She held up her hands to show him her manicure. Shimmering nail polish matched her dress. “Toes too. Then Cleo did my eyebrows and make-up. Then you arrived.” She finished, looking for all the world like a little girl who’s just reeled off the memorized list of all her birthday presents in one breath.
Throughout dinner, his gaze kept wandering to her breasts. She smiled to herself, strangely unembarrassed by his fixation. She actually wiggled them to get his attention. He glanced up. It was his turn to feel embarrassed.
“I love your sister but I’ve always been what we Brits call a tit-man and,” He looked wistful, “the one thing Elena doesn’t have is cleavage. She’s going to turn green with envy when she sees you.”
“Elena will never be jealous of me.”
“Not you, your cleavage, because she knows what I like.” He gestured to a waiter for their bill. “Shall we go?” He stood, and offered her a hand.
* * * * *
They took a black cab south of the river to the Young Vic. Patricia clung to his arm as they mingled among the familiar faces in the foyer. Andrew made introductions here and there but Patricia was more than a little shy. She smiled sweetly enough but she was very quiet and her shawl was clutched tightly about her.
It didn’t go unnoticed. At the first convenient moment he guided her out of the throng and into a suitably secluded corner to administer some direct therapy. When he’d finished kissing her, he pointed her in the direction of the ladies room to freshen up her lipstick. It wasn’t entirely kiss proof. He didn’t have long to wait and, as Patricia returned looking suitably unmolested, the bell signalled that it was time to take their seats.
In the dark silence of the auditorium, her hand nestled in his. Watching Elena gyrate and leap about the stage he was reminded of all the interesting applications of grace and flexibility that had become such a feature of their private lives. She really was exceptionally sexy – even clothed. His erotic daydreaming was interrupted by warm breath against his ear.
“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Patricia whispered.
Andrew turned to whisper back “Yes, but I’m biased.”
Dance is a physical language. Right now, ricocheting between to male dancers, Elena’s movements said to Andrew, somewhere beyond the footlights, “Fuck me!” and every possible synonym. Andrew was rigid, a common reaction to Elena’s performances. Her work almost always turned him on. On an impulse, he guided Patricia’s hand to his thigh, letting her feel the hot hard bulge of his excitement. He leant within whispering range again without taking his eyes off the dance.
“Like I said – biased.”
“Patricia left her hand where he’d put it, feeling the monster throb as they watched her sister fall into Bettina’s arms and the two girls sink into a slow adagio death scene.
The performance ended, the cast took their bows to rapturous applause, the house lights came up and Andrew and Patricia headed out of the theatre.
“This is not for me, is it?” Patricia had stopped them, turned to face Andrew and had her hand on his only slightly softening erection. She looked sad, as if realizing that here too she could not hope to compete with Elena.
“It’s for both of you.” He held both her shoulders and looked serious. “Tonight I have the difficult job of pleasing both of the Albuquerque sisters. Do you think for one instant that I won’t enjoy trying?”
“But you love her.” There were the first traces of tears in the corners of her eyes but she hadn’t let go of his penis, which was a good sign.
“So do you. We both love her and she loves both of us.”
“And…I love you.” Patricia struggled to say it. She meant it, or thought she did.
“Patricia, You’re a very sweet girl but yesterday you were still a virgin. Circumstances being what they are, I’m not surprised your emotions are playing merry hell with you. You’re attracted to me: this I knew some time back. I’m attracted to you: this you know because the penis never lies.” That made her realize where her hand was. It fell to her side. “Desire and attraction are reasons enough but they’re not the same as love. Now dry your eyes and lets go dangle you in front of some more men. Maybe one of them will make you a better offer for tonight.” He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. She managed to smile back.
As they reached the stage door, she stopped him again. “Andrew.”
“Hmm?”
“I-I don’t want any better offers for tonight.” She was blushing as she peered up at him through her lashes, looking vulnerable in a way contrived to make any man want to take advantage.
It occurred to Andrew that Patricia was a very quick learner. “Good. Let’s go and see your sister.”
* * * * *
“Honey Bunny! You were terrific.” Andrew pushed through the press of assorted theatricals dragging Patricia in his wake. He swept Elena into a one armed embrace and kissed her firmly. “Allow me to introduce Miss Patricia Albuquerque, your sister.” He relaxed his grip on Elena’s waist and drew Patricia forward.
Elena’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes widened, she glanced at Andrew then back at Patricia, then her vocal cords caught up. She squealed delightedly and bounced forward to hug her sister.
“What a change! I leave you alone for a couple of days and… this!” She stepped back and guided Patricia into a self-conscious twirl. “Sis, you look beautiful. Take off the pashmina. Let me see this dress properly.” Elena drew the shawl from Patricia’s unprotesting grip. “Oh my! You walked around London in this?”
“He made me.” Patricia nodded towards Andrew. “I’d better have the shawl back. People stare.”
“I’ll bet they do, Sis. Let them. I couldn’t wear that, even with a Wonderbra.”
“I told you she’d be envious.” Andrew interjected.
“I’m not envious.” Elena chided him. “I’m in awe of my beautiful sister. Here, hold this.” She thrust the shawl into Andrew’s hands. “Patricia, come and meet the company.” Elena took her sister’s hand and bounced off with her in tow.
“Bettina! Bettina, this is my sister, Patricia. Patricia, Bettina choreographed the show as well as dancing. Didn’t she do a simply marvellous job?”
“Hello.” Patricia smiled a greeting. “It was a wonderful show. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. You live in Cascais, yes? Are you staying in London long?” Bettina had heard quite a bit about Elena’s sister, being Elena’s closest friend as well as dance partner.
“Lisbon. The rest of the family lives in Cascais. How long I’m staying depends on the BBC.”
“Sis has applied for a job with the World Service.” Elena filled in.
“Really? Well, fingers crossed…” She held up two fingers, crossed. “Sorry Darlings. I really must love you and leave you. My husband’s in this crowd somewhere.” And pausing only to air kiss the sisters, she was gone.
Elena urged Patricia through the throng, accepting congratulations from various people that she introduced Patricia to before using her sister as an excuse to not get into long conversations. Eventually, they found the two male members of the company, chatting with Andrew.
“Boys! Where have you been? I’ve been searching high and low.”
In unison, two very well toned, and very ‘pretty’ men turned to face Patricia.
“We were just getting a rave revue off The Shrink.” One opined.
“Boys! Boys!” Andrew laughed “I’ve told you before. That shower was running cold.” Then he looked at Patricia. “You’re my friend, Patricia, make them stop picking on me.”
“Picking on you?” Patricia looked amused but puzzled.
“One cold shower and for the rest of eternity I’m ‘The Shrink’. It’s so unfair.” He made a show of looking put upon.
Patricia looked blank. This was way over her head. Elena rattled off a few seconds in Portuguese and Patricia burst out laughing.
“Et tu Patricia.” Andrew looked hurt. “Boys, meet Elena’s sister. Patricia, these two hideously deformed parodies of the masculine form are Carl and Steven.” He pointed first left then right.
Carl reached for Patricia’s hand, which she let him take, raise to his lips and gently kiss. “Enchanted.” He bowed fractionally and stepped back. Steven was less formal, air kissing both her cheeks while clasping both her hands in his.
Patricia could smell the sweat on them. It was somehow, from her new perspective, quite arousing.
She recalled hearing about them from Elena. She recalled being disgusted to hear they were a couple. Her Catholic background had imbued her with strong views on homosexuals. She recalled the great lengths Elena had gone to, to explain that they were really very sweet guys. She recalled how their conspicuously tight tights had held her attention so much on stage while Andrew’s cock pulsed under her fingers. She blushed.
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