Blended TML Ch 19

Brise and Katya don’t hesitate to crash Piper and Mary’s peaceful, idyllic wind-down. They chatter incessantly, and Piper can hardly imagine a more pleasurable arrangement. This evening has become truly interesting. First, just getting to watch Brise up close, moving around, is a treat in her state of sexy undress. Katya as well, even if she’s a bit more covered.

The eye candy is nothing beside the entertainment value offered by Mary. Her shell-shocked reaction to these women and their behavior brings Piper such joy that it takes real work to keep her face neutral.

Katya does not hesitate to slap her phone down at full volume, blaring Russian hip hop. Piper can’t help but notice that even cartoonishly wasted, both women show signs of being skilled dancers. There’s some genuine curiosity mixed in as Piper enjoys the view, although the spectacle of jiggling flesh is as majestic and arresting as Renaissance art. Brise’s piercings. Katya’s fat sausage package bouncing around as she moves her hips with orders of magnitude more seductive grace than is on display in Piper’s precious horny Insta videos.

Brise spins Katya around, only Katya’s still holding a bottle, which swings wildly, missing Mary’s face by about a foot. It’s still close enough to startle her out of her stunned spectatorship.

“Right,” she says, forcing a smile. “I’d better get to bed.”

Piper gets up as well, wrestling her thoughts back into order. She has to be civilized. She doesn’t want to be, but she must, for Mary’s sake—and for the sake of the Jameson-Dunham household. Mary’s wellbeing is the rock upon which at least four other lives depend.

Brise’s face lights up and she drops her bottle, grabbing Piper’s hands and trying to pull her into the dance. Piper parries and frees herself with a laugh and an apology. She picks up the bottle and hands it back, then waves and follows Mary toward the house.

Piper only had time for one drink. It’s enough to make her want to have fun, but not enough to dull her senses. She saw Brise’s eyes sweep her up and down, and there’s no hiding the half-chub in Piper’s bikini bottoms. That was three seconds ago. Now, she’s walking behind Mary, who is also wearing a bikini. Piper speeds up to get alongside her; she doesn’t need more stimulation, and it’s probably not classy to stare at her stepmother’s ass anyway. Not that classiness is the word that comes to mind when Piper reflects on her actions this summer.

“Please don’t be mad,” she says.

“I’m not mad. I’m depressed.”

“Me too. I’ll never be as cool as them.”

“I don’t think you want to be them, Piper. I’m not sure that they want to be them.”

They are drinking hard liquor straight from bottles. Mary’s probably right. Still, it’s hard to escape that feeling that there’s a party somewhere that one is always missing out on. Piper knows that figurative party born from projected insecurities isn’t real, but… it’s almost like those two drunken idiots back there are a taste of it. Reality will come in the morning.