Chapter 6: Slave-Brother

"You're taking it easy today, right, Dad?" I kissed my father's cheek, leaning over the back of his chair to do it, and rubbing my hands over his chest.

"I don't think I have much of a choice," he chuckled and put his right hand on top of mine, giving me a little squeeze.

He was reading a magazine while my mother was upstairs, sleeping after her bath. She really had been worn out from the night before and then our little scene in the kitchen.

I was off for downtown, to pay a visit on my brother at the radio station. It was still early, just after ten o'clock, but I wanted to see him before Cheryl showed up at noon.

"I'll see you later, Daddy," I smiled, knowing his eyes were following me as I left the room.

I'd dressed nicely, which is to say sexily, with a lycra mini-skirt that showed off my long toned legs and nice round ass perfectly. The shoes helped too, three inch stilettos that lifted me to very nearly six feet tall. They also pushed my ass out one way, and my upturned braless breasts out the other. I wore a leather top that resembled a corset as much as anything else, red and black, with the laces in the front. It was tight and provocative and lifted my tits nicely, putting the creamy tops of my breasts on permanent display.

My only concession to modesty was a black silk blazer that I wore over the corset. It was thin and light as a feather and I didn't bother with the buttons. Even if I had, it wouldn't have covered me much more; the neck was low and intended to show off a lot of cleavage anyway. I'd brushed my hair and used a silver beret to keep it back in a wide silken fan down my neck and just below my shoulders. Some small gold earrings and some properly applied makeup and I was set.

If this outfit didn't give my brother wet dreams, I was going to be very disappointed. I knew exactly how I looked and I'd spent my entire adult life perfecting it, which was something people tended to forget. With the exception of a very lucky few, looking beautiful is a lot of hard work for a woman. It was how I made my living and I put no less time, effort, and thought into it than anyone else puts into their own career.

But nobody hits on an accountant because she has exceptional math skills. None of us assume she'll suck cock in a men's room just because a woman is a rocket scientist for NASA. It is a sexist world we live in, no matter how much we pretend to be politically correct. And I was hardly that in any case.

"I'm looking for the assistant station manager," I told the receptionist, a thirtyish woman who looked fifty, even with her big blonde hair.

"I didn't know it was his birthday," she blinked at me, looking me up and down as I stood there.

"Excuse me?" I narrowed my eyes.

"You're one of those telegrams, right?" She wasn't smiling so she must have been serious. "A ... Stripper-gram?"

"Heh!" I stared at her for a moment and part of me really did want to slap her.

"You're better looking than the last one," she nodded, looking me up and down.

"The last one..." I said slowly. "You get a lot of uh, stripper-grams here?"

"Oh no," she looked shocked at the possibility. "Just the one, but now I know what to look for."

She was speaking softly, like it was a secret, even though the entry was deserted but for the two of us.

"I see," I nodded, as if I could appreciate her powers of astute observation.

"So ... is it Jim's birthday?" she did smile then.

"Yeah," I wiggled my eyebrows. "The boys at his bowling league thought he might want a little pick-me-up, you know. Since he's turning thirty today."

"Thirty?" she gasped. "He doesn't look that old."

"Do you think you could point me in the right direction, uh..."

"Cindy," she smiled. "Sure, just use the elevators; his office is on the third floor."

"Thanks Cindy," I smiled sweetly. "I'll be sure to tell him what a big help you've been."

"Oh," she waved her hand like it was nothing.

I made a mental note to send a real stripper-gram to Jim on his next birthday and I at least found a smile in that. Receptionists, in my experience, were often the most competent people to be found in a business, but obviously there was always the exception. Judging from the lack of visitors however it didn't seem like Cindy could hurt this one too much.

I'd expected some hustle and bustle, but really I knew nothing about the radio business. Jim's station wasn't a large one, or so I'd gathered from what little he'd explained over dinner. It was three stations really, a network affiliate, a local independent, both on FM, and an AM station dedicated to news and weather. One of them was being broadcast softly though the buildings PA system apparently, because I could hear the DJ making bad jokes.

The first five minutes I was there made me quite happy that I'd decided to take a career as a Dominatrix.

The third floor was a little busier anyway; at least there were people there. A portly young man carrying a stack of binders very nearly walked into a water cooler when he saw me. Another woman, a little older than myself, gave me a catty look up and down, but neither of them said anything. I decided it would be prudent to find my own way around and I ignored them.

It was a normal office building, carpeted and painted a lovely shade of dull beige, with blonde oak doors and big glass windows. There was accounting, marketing, a break room, a manager's office, and finally ... Bingo. Assistant Manager.

"I know you," I said.

I was somewhat surprised that my brother would have his own secretary, but maybe I shouldn't have been. I guess I pictured him as being more the out and about type manager, rather than sitting behind a desk. I thought radio would be a little less sedate than it appeared to be.

"Uh..." The girl was younger than me, my brother's age, and I knew that because we'd gone to the same high school.

"Paula?" I pursed my lips. "Pauline," I smiled and nodded because that was her name.

"Can I help you, miss?" The woman was cute and blonde, and a bit brighter than the bulb downstairs. She just didn't recognize me.

"I'm here to see Jim," I smiled at her, enjoying her discomfort at not knowing who I was and doubtless wondering how I knew her.

"Do you have an appointment?" she was speaking slowly, buying herself some time to figure it out, and perhaps I was on the tip of her tongue, but I doubted it.

"Do I need one?" I gave her the sort of look a princess might give to a serf. I even struck a little pose, simply because I was feeling in a mood right then, feeling like a stripper-gram with an attitude.

"Yes, you do," she was sparked now, and it was her office and her boss, and I could go to hell.

I'd never liked Pauline, although I hadn't known her very well. She was two years behind me, like my brother, and she'd been his girlfriend their senior year. Thankfully I'd missed most of that, having been away for college, but I got all the news. My brother was happy to tell me about his girlfriend, about his dear Pauline and how happy they were. He'd even brought up the "M" word once, as I recalled, talking about how after college they might get serious.

Then my brother had met Cheryl and of course poor Pauline hadn't stood a chance after that. She was too far away for one thing, but too familiar as well, and I thought my brother had made the right choice. Pauline was a girl who'd gotten by on her looks growing up, but they weren't that good, not like she'd imagined they were. After high school reality must have been a bitch.

Girls like her hadn't given me the time of day in high school. I'd been pretty enough, but not beautiful. I'd been a late bloomer, and it wasn't until my senior year, or even after that, during my freshman year at college that I'd come into my own. I'd changed dramatically over the course of those two years, my body to some degree, but more than that it was my attitude. I'd become determined not to be average, not be like everyone else, and that was why Pauline didn't recognize me.

I wasn't like anyone she'd ever met.

"So this is what Homecoming Queens do after the big parade, huh?" I looked around with a look of disdain.

"Who are you?" Pauline stared at me and her color was rising.

Before I could answer the other door was opening.

"Pauline, could you..." and then my brother saw me, and his eyes got large, and then he glanced at his secretary and I knew. It was like a bolt of lightning striking me. I knew exactly what was going on and I sighed inwardly.

"Not her," I stared at my brother, shaking my head slowly.

"Susan," Jim swallowed hard and he was guilty.

"Susan? Your sister ... Susan?" Pauline was looking between us, but she didn't matter at all.

Now I understood why Jim didn't want his wife coming down to the station. Why my brother had wanted to meet me someplace else for lunch. He'd come back from college a married man, but that wouldn't have mattered to a girl like Pauline, would it? They'd been serious once and marriages failed all the time. Or maybe she didn't even care about that, maybe she just wanted the old times. The old in-out with the cock she'd loved in high school.

And Jim, why would he say no? He could do what he wanted, especially behind two closed doors. I'm sure one of them had a lock on it. He could nail Pauline any time he wanted and still go home to give his blushing bride a little kiss after dinner.

Yeah, people are people. I've known that for a long time now. My brother didn't surprise me, even though I'd hoped Cheryl's suspicions had been wrong. Not because I really cared one way or the other about fidelity, but more because I'd rather hoped my brother was less attached sexually. A mistress complicated things, but only a little.

This was just another opportunity to help my family. Much as I'd helped my mother and father, now I was going to be helping my brother and his wife.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the orchard, does it Jim?" I chuckled, thinking of my parents and wondering if there was a gene for adultery.

"Uh, look maybe we can talk in here..." Jim was giving me his angelic smile, the one he liked to use with Mom growing up. It was a good play, a real heart breaker, but I wasn't Mom.

"Sure," I dipped my head.

Pauline could do little but watch us and I gave her a pretty smile as I stepped around her desk, pausing as I noticed some half-dozen photos, framed and carefully arranged. She had a narrow piece of paper taped to the side of her computer monitor with phone numbers for daycare, babysitter, pre-school, pediatrician...

"Your son?" I ignored my brother who was looking at me somewhat impatiently.

"Yeah," Pauline's eyes narrowed and she looked defensive ... or protective, more like.

"He looks like you," I softened a little then, reminding myself that I didn't know everything, no matter how much I thought I did. "He's cute."

"Thanks," Pauline nodded. "His name's Tyler."

"How old is he?"

"Susan..." my brother said softly.

"He's almost four," Pauline looked away from me, turning her bright blue eyes on her son's photographs.

"You're married now?" I asked and I was feeling bad suddenly for my earlier words.

"No," Pauline gave me a sigh to go with a weak smile. "His father is Donnie Carlson, remember him?"

"Mmmm..." I had to shrug because I didn't.

"He was the quarterback," Pauline made a little face. "He ... We sort of made a mistake."

"Susan, let's talk in here..." Jim was a little anxious and I let him stew.

"No," I shook my head slightly, reaching down to pick up one of the pictures. "This isn't a mistake, Pauline. He's beautiful."

"Yeah," she looked up at me gratefully and we weren't friends, but we weren't enemies anymore either.

"How long have you been working here?" I put the picture back down and gave Pauline's shoulder a little squeeze.

"Just a couple months," she sucked her lips softly. "I bumped into Jim when I was applying and he got me hired the next day."

She glanced at my brother, but she looked worried too.

"Well, he's a nice guy, isn't he?" and I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

Pauline was doing whatever she had to do to take care of her son, I understood that. She had all those phone numbers handy for a reason and I was willing to bet she called them regularly. Whatever Pauline might have been after high school, she'd ended up a mother, and she wasn't running away from it. I had to respect that.

It didn't help my brother a whole lot though, and if anything it put him in a bad light. It occurred to me that Pauline might not have wanted anything more than an honest paycheck. Maybe my brother had offered her the job with a big long string attached. That would have been disappointing.

"How long have you been fucking her?" I asked my brother as soon as he closed the door behind us, locking it with an audible click.

"Ah ... heh ... it's not like that..."

"Hey, I don't care," I shrugged. "Nice office, by the way. Not much of a view though."

It was a pretty ordinary office overlooking a much bigger building across the street. There was the obligatory photograph of Cheryl on his desk, his diploma on the wall. A book case, some furniture that looked like it had been there for awhile. I walked around, dropping my purse on his desk, and admiring it all while my brother watched me.

"We did it, yeah," my brother finally admitted after two long minutes of silence. "A few times, I'm not 'seeing' her, if that's what you're worried about."

"Me?" I made an innocent face, running my fingers along a bookshelf. "I'm not worried about anything, Jim. Not a thing. Ohhh ... The FCC Standards and Practices for Public Transmission. I always wanted to read that, can I borrow it?"

"Would you be serious with me?" my brother sighed.

"Would you fuck me?" I countered, turning around and staring into his brown eyes.

"What?" he blinked.

"You fuck her," I shrugged, walking closer to him. "Would you fuck me?"

My breasts were prominent, with my blazer falling off my bare shoulders. My hips undulated as I walked slowly, one foot directly in front of the other. It was a dance, a motion designed to stimulate the senses. I kept my shoulders back, my head straight and gave the man my undivided attention.

"I don't have time for this," my brother said, but his eyes were drinking me in.

"Make time," I said softly and he was against the wall and I was so close suddenly, like the previous night in the hallway at home. But this was different. This wasn't about Cheryl, this was all about us.

"Susan," Jim was breathing heavily.

"I won't tell," I whispered, taking that last half-step, letting my breasts graze him through the thin dress shirt he wore.

"This isn't ... We can't..."

"Yes we can..." I leaned into him, my tits pressing themselves to his chest, my pelvis meeting his and I could feel his erection through my skirt.

"Please..." he swallowed.

"Shhh ... We can do anything we want, little brother..." I was touching him then, my hands on his arms, pulling him gently to hold me. It was making me hot, playing the seductress for my own brother.

"You're my sister..."

"So?" I was talking to his mouth, our lips so close they brushed against each other as I formed the words. "You wanted me when we kissed, didn't you?"

"I was sixteen," he shivered as I placed his hands on my hips.

"You wanted to fuck me then, tell me..." I let the tip of my tongue touch his lips.

"I..." Jim took a deep breath through his nose.

"Tell me..." I sighed softly. "Did you jerk off thinking about me?"