Lockdown With Victoria And Her Sister

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Note: This story continues the adventures of Dan from Bad Influences.

Both stories work independently from each other, and you are welcome to start with either one.

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“Do you want to finish my sandwich?” Victoria asked me.

I did. I really did.

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed. With her high cheekbones she looked even cuter. “Why not?”

“Because you need your energy,” I said. “You are about to work for eight hours straight. I know you, you aren’t going to eat again until you get home and have a snack.”

“So? That’s how I keep this trim figure,” she replied as she looked down at herself. At five foot two she had a petite frame, medium length beautiful dark brown hair, and proudly called herself a Latina. “Otherwise, I would look like my sister.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Oops.

She gave me the look I should have expected. It was somewhere between if she ever caught my face on a neighborhood sex predator warning sign and if I stepped on her hamster.

“Really, Dan?” She dropped her voice. “You want me to look like a slut?”

“Sexual promiscuity has nothing to do with your body shape,” I reminded her, not for the first time. “Your sister’s sexual choices have nothing to do with her bra size.”

“Oh, so you want a girlfriend with double Ds?”

Yes.

But didn’t I say that.

Instead, I took a breath. “I don't want you starving yourself to the point where you are making yourself dizzy at work again.”

“I won’t.”

“Tell you what. If you really are full, why don’t you take the sandwich with you? Then you could finish it on your meal break.”

“But then I will go over my calories.”

“Your calorie tracker is set for losing weight,” I reminded her. “You don’t have any weight to lose.”

“I’m maintaining weight. Girls in my family have slow metabolisms.”

We’d had this conversation before. I’d used the same app and showed her that her maintaining weight goal was an extra four hundred calories than she was currently sticking to.

She continued. “You don’t know what it’s like. I don’t want to be the overly curvy Mexican girl. I just want to fit in. Why are you pushing this again, anyway?”

I sighed. “I honestly want what’s best for you. You’re already super hot. But there is no reason why you need to be starving yourself.”

“You're only saying that because I told you when I gain weight it all goes to my butt and my boobs.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It does for me! And I don’t want everyone at my work judging me and treating me like I’m a bimbo. If I finish this sandwich, I’ll finish my next sandwich. And then I will start to look like Angela. If that’s what you want, why don’t you go date her instead?”

“What’s in it for me is that you get grumpy when you are hungry.”

“I do not-”

“Exhibit A.” I gestured to her.

She glared at me. Her face twitched and she lost the fight to hide her smile.

“There it is!” I pointed to her again. “You’re cute when you’re angry. But you’re drop-dead gorgeous when you smile.”

“Shut up.”

It felt good as the tension drained. Things were going too well lately. Since we got back together a month ago we had rarely had any conflict. I’m not one to instigate an argument, but there is such a thing as holding back too much and I believe that every now and then a couple needs to rub up against each other to maintain that sense of intimacy.

She pushed the half sandwich away from her. “I guess I’ll throw it away, then.”

“Give me that.” I took a big bite.

“See? You needed it more than I did.”

She continued as I devoured the sandwich hungrily.

“You deserve it. You’re the one that was on top this morning, getting that good workout.”

I swallowed. “Yeah, I do.”

We tossed our trays and I walked her to her car.

“See you tonight?” I asked.

“I don't know. I'm really sore. I'll let you know.”

“Have a good day at work,” I told her as I kissed her.

“You, too.”

A small moan escaped her lips as we kissed. “Mmm, garlic.”

“Mmm,” I copied her. “Angela.”

This was it. The moment that could determine whether we had a future. I didn’t mind her being slightly insecure about her sister. But I knew from past experience that I needed my girlfriend to have a sense of humor.

“Mmm,” she repeated. “Steven.”

My friend, the ladies man. Well played.

“I love you,” I told her.

It was the second time saying it. Last night was the first, and it didn’t really count because she had said it mid orgasm.

There was a slight pause. It was probably about two seconds, but it felt like two years.

“I love you too,” she told me. “Thanks for a wonderful Valentines Day yesterday.”

“No, thank you! Your present was amazing.”

“What present?”

“You know,” I reminded her. “Your virginity.”

“Dan!”

I smacked her ass and sent her on her way.