Chapter 2

It’s been a while since you’ve flown on a plane. This is a long flight to Amsterdam. That would make anyone irritable, but… there’s something else. There’s this flight attendant that keeps calling Lotte ‘sweetie’ and your girlfriend is about to give in to the dark side. You hold her hand tightly, forcing a smile as the attendant brings Lotte another drink.

You can hear Lotte’s teeth grinding. She wants to do something to this woman so bad. Even you don’t like her. Her bright, red lipstick and heavy eye shadow are just obnoxious.

Lotte looks very cute in her real clothes: jeans and an orange top. Apparently, it’s cooler where she lives than in Florida, but you’re still wearing shorts because it’s all you have. You are looking forward to shopping for clothes in a foreign country. It will be fun!

Lotte’s not having fun. She taps her foot impatiently, grits her teeth, and clutches her armrests. She has earbuds in, and you can hear the angry metal music that she listens to. No way is that helping. You squeeze her hand, but she doesn’t react.

You decide that the best thing you can do is leave her alone. You still have several hours left on this flight, and you aren’t trying to act like her mother. You just wish that she’d take a deep breath. After a while, the feel of her hand on your thigh brings out of your boring movie watching, but she’s not even looking at you or paying attention. It’s like she’s doing this without even realizing it.

She doesn’t do anything too weird, she just keeps her hand on your leg.

She moves it to take a sip of her drink, but the plane jolts, and she spills. That wouldn’t be a big deal, but the flight attendant is right there.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, leaning down to use a napkin to wipe off Lotte’s face. She walks away, and Lotte is about to burst a blood vessel. You reach for her hand to squeeze it, but she grabs yours first and pulls you out of your seat. Startled, you trail along behind her, bumping past other passengers. She snaps the curtain shut at the end of a row and all but throws you into the bathroom, crowding in with you. She closes the door and locks it.

“Oh jeez,” you say.

But she says nothing. She still has her earbuds in. You watch her struggle with her jeans and push past you. For a second you think she wants to use the bathroom, but that’s not it. She has to push and wiggle because her jeans are tight, but she gets them down enough to reveal her thong. Then she pushes that down too and leans against the wall.

She still hasn’t even said anything! Well, she’s always like this… not exactly talkative. But usually, the two of you do these things in the bedroom.

Lotte is clearly on the edge of a psychotic break, so you decide it’s best not to argue with her. Besides, the sight of her bare bottom is good motivation. You get it out and use your hand to feel, but she’s not quite ready. She grabs your wrist and yanks. She doesn’t care.

“OK,” you say meekly.

She bites her thumb as you enter her, and she is scarily tight. You get a good grip on her hips only for her to push back and slam you against the door. You just try to stay on your feet as she takes care of everything, treating you like a dildo stuck to the wall. It almost reminds you of the old Lotte. It’s so rough that it’s a bit painful, and she finishes first. You think maybe there’s a way to avoid a mess, but the contractions inside her don’t allow that. Her walls firmly massage your load out of you, leaving you wheezing.

Lotte awkwardly grabs some tissues to catch the results before there’s a mess in her underwear and jeans. She throws that away and wiggles her way back to decency.

Her eyes fall on you, standing there, blushing and panting with your stuff still out. She tucks you away, ties the drawstrings on your shorts, and gives you a little kiss.

She still doesn’t say anything as she pulls you out of the bathroom.

The flight attendant is coming through with the cart of drinks. She stops at the sight of you, and the obvious smell of sex. You blush harder, but Lotte just tugs you past and puts you back in your seat.

You didn’t expect that, but she seems a little more relaxed now, and less likely to **** someone.

She doesn’t speak of what just happened, but about half an hour later, out of nowhere, she tells you what to expect. She speaks in short, curt sentences, and gives no details.

Her home is apparently in a small town on the outskirts of an actual city. She says that it’s quiet and boring there.

Her family’s house is in the middle of town, on a hill, with a bookstore on one side and a music store on the other. She goes on to tell you who lives there.

It sounds like she was raised by her aunt. You are just now finding out that she didn’t grow up with her parents. She doesn’t mention them. Man… that must be hard. Her aunt’s name is Famke, and her aunt’s wife is named Elenora.

Lotte speaks coldly, but you read between the lines. She talks about Famke as a mother, and Elenora like a wicked stepmom. She pulls up her social media and shows you pictures.

Famke is younger than you expect, with dark hair and a big smile. Pretty lady!

Elenora is totally different. She’s thin and sleek, and in the picture, she’s wearing a pantsuit. Her short, overdone black hair is shiny and glossy. Her face is intense, almost pinched. She’d be pretty if she smiled.

Then Lotte tells you that she has an older sister named Linde, who wears leather and has blue hair and piercings. She reminds you a little of Clara, one of the producers, but she has energy like a couple of the players from camp: Lena and Olga. In her photo, Linde is putting up devil horns and making a face.

Then Lotte shows you Marit, who is a wholesome beauty with a big, chestnut-brown braid, another older sister.

Next, she shows you a slightly younger girl, another brunette, with a ponytail and freckles. Her name is Suze, and she is Lotte’s only younger sister.

“You all live together? In one house?” you ask.

She nods, looking cold again. You expected this. You’ll be landing soon, so her tension is coming back.

“And my sister,” she says.

“Sister? You just showed me like three sisters,” you tell her.

“My other sister.” Looking as though she’s about to be executed, Lotte pulls up another photo and shows it to you.

“This is you,” you say.

She just shakes her head, making a face of disgust. You look at the name on the profile. Senna. Then you look at the birthday. It’s the same as Lotte’s. Does she have an alt account? Maybe for evil purposes? Then you notice the dates on the photos. This girl is clearly in the Netherlands when Lotte was doing FUTA. It’s not an alt account.

Lotte has an identical twin. You never suspected.

“Do you two not get along?” You thought that twins were supposed to be close.

“She is difficult,” Lotte replies shortly, putting her phone away.

OK, so it’s a lot for Lotte to call other people difficult. You could point that out to her, but making relationships work is all about not making issues of these things.

“That’s a lot of people in one house,” you say, patting her hand. “Is there room for me?”

“My room,” Lotte replies absently, and you take that in. You weren’t sure what to expect, but… OK. You are going with it. Well, Lotte does have two moms in a sense, so maybe this family is pretty cool about these things and they won’t have a problem with a brand new girlfriend just sharing Lotte’s bed. You hope they’re cool with it because you find it embarrassing as hell and it hasn’t even happened yet. You’re blushing, but Lotte is so intense that she doesn’t notice.

You wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.