Chapter 1

"Oh. You."

"Nice way to greet your sister," Diane said. The woman pushed past him and walked into her brother's apartment but immediately stopped. "Jesus Christ, Jerry! Look at this place!"

Jerry Senders sighed, closed the door, and turned to his sister. He looked around and saw what she saw: a disaster. He hadn't cleaned the place in over a week and the evidence was obvious. Empty beer bottles littered his coffee table, the wood floor, the counter that divided the room from the kitchen, and almost every other conceivable surface. Discarded pizza boxes were piled at the foot of his long couch as were magazines, crumpled up fast food bags, and other garbage. In short, his condo was a complete mess.

But so was Jerry.

He hadn't shaved in days and he was currently dressed in nothing but a bathrobe that had been his uniform for just as long. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, and his fingernails definitely needed to be clipped. The usually handsome 42-year-old looked like the poster-child for depression. He was depressed. More than that, though, he was angry.

"You're a fucking mess," Diane said. His younger sister shook her head with a hand on her hip, a posture of disapproval she'd inherited from their mother. The voluptuous woman was dressed in a tight trench-coat and had a black purse slung over one shoulder. As usual her dark hair was done up in a bun today but she wasn't wearing her glasses so she didn't have the entire "sexy librarian" look going like she often did. In fact, the tan trench-coat that was tied snugly around her curvy form sort of made her look more intimidating than anything else.

Jerry walked past her, grabbed a bottle of vodka he'd been nursing from his litter-covered end-table, and plopped back down on his sofa. "Why are you here?" he said.

"Your cock is showing," Diane said in a mocking tone.

The man glanced down at his open bathrobe but did nothing to adjust it. "Yeah, but you like my cock."

"I liked your cock when you were a well adjusted member of society," his sister replied as she walked over to his television set. She took something out of her purse, slid a DVD into his player, then resumed her disapproval-stance when she turned to face him again. "I don't like it so much now that you're some freak-recluse who gets drunk at ... Christ, what time is it? 9am!"

He took a swig from his bottle. He was barely listening to her. His eyes were locked on her smooth, lightly tanned legs. What he could see of them, at least. The coat she wore stretched down to a couple inches above her knees and the only sight of her delicious skin stopped at the top of the tall, come-fuck-me boots she was wearing. Still, Jerry could imagine the rest of her legs as easily as he could imagine his own. The image in his head made him lick his lips.

Diane was 13 years younger than him and she was Jerry's only sibling. Despite the huge age difference he'd always been close with her. Very close. He'd always found her attractive both physically and mentally. He could remember making many excuses to visit home back when she was a budding teenager just so he could see her. She was an amazing sister in many, many ways.

She could be annoying, though, and she was definitely being so now.

"I asked why you're here," he said, his anger showing.

She rolled her large brown eyes and looked like she was going to laugh. "Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm here to snap you out of this ... this funk, or whatever it is. You've been a shut-in just about long enough. Mom's worried about you, our friends are worried about you. Fuck, I'm worried about you!"

"I'm fine," he said.

"No, you're not. You need to get over that bitch and get back to being yourself."

Now it was his turn to shake his head. He gulped down another long swallow of vodka from the bottle. He stared at the woman standing in front of him and pointed at her. "Look," he said. "No one's worried about me. Not you, not Mom, not any of those jerks at the club. You're all just pitying me. That cunt broke my fucking heart in front of everyone I care about and she made me look like a fucking moron in the process. I could give two-shits about your pity, or anyone else's. I just need a little time to feel sorry for myself, okay?"

"It's been a month, Jerry," Diane said. "You've been feeling sorry for yourself for a month! I'm here because I want to help you get past her, get you back on your feet. School starts on Monday and right now I'm not sure you'll even be there."

He took another swig. "Maybe I won't be."

He meant it. He knew he'd be sacrificing his job, even his career if he decided to let his angry depression keep him from going to work but he really didn't care. The thought of one day becoming principal didn't motivate him in the slightest anymore.

Diane shook her head. "You should," his sister told him. She stepped forward and started to untie the belt around her waist. "It'll be worth it. Trust me. And I'm going to help you get over that stupid fucking cunt. Want to know how?"

Jerry watched his sister slowly open her tan-colored trench-coat. She was wearing nothing beneath it. The sight of his little sister's firm, well developed body made his throat go dry just like it always did. It'd been well over a year, since he first got serious with Lana, that he'd seen his sister's hot body in the nude. He had to admit that he'd really missed it.

Diane's breasts were large and firm, capped with large pointy nipples that were absolutely made for suckling. Her hips were wide and inviting and narrowed up into a slender waist. She was smooth all over, hairless right down to the place between her legs he'd first conquered when she'd been barely out of elementary school. He took another swig from his bottle of vodka as she let the heavy coat fall off her shoulders so that she was entirely nude except for the black high-heeled boots that stretched halfway up her calves.

"If you thought fucking me would get me over the love of my life, you don't know me at all," he managed to say.

"I do know you," the dark haired woman said. She walked over to the couch and picked up the remote-control. "And I know what you need right now is revenge on that bitch. I'm going to help you get it."

She was so close to him that every fiber of his being told him to grab her, to push her down, to fuck the living daylights out of her. But that was exactly what she wanted and he wasn't about to give his kid sister the satisfaction. He was angry, still, and his anger trumped his horniness. He said, "What, you think if we start fucking again that'd somehow piss her off? Jesus, if she knew she'd just use it against me, humiliate me even more."

His sister smiled. "When did you start thinking so little of me?" she said. "No, stupid, us fucking again is just the price you have to pay for my help in getting back at that cunt. I have a plan."

"A plan," he said, taking another sip from his bottle. His cock was starting to stir, something it had rarely done since Lana had humiliated him in front of his friends, family, and co-workers a month earlier.

"Yes, a plan. Tell me, big brother, what are the two things Lana Rogers cherishes most in life?" she said as she studied the remote. Without waiting for his reply she said, "Her reputation and her daughter, that's what. We can ruin both if we get Alina into the Game. It'll be the ultimate revenge, especially if we get her precious girl to lose the Game. Can you imagine?"

Jerry stared at his sister blankly for a second, then laughed. "Alina?" he said. "She's as straight-laced as her mother, maybe even more. Not even Heather could get that little bitch into the Game. Believe me, I already thought about this, but it just isn't going to happen."

"Oh?" Diane smiled. Just then she turned the television set on.

He glanced over to his large plasma TV. On it was some sort of security camera footage, in full color, looking down into a locker room. It resembled the men's locker room at the country club but the bench between the lockers was padded with pink-dyed leather instead of the brown-dyed leather he was familiar with. It took his slightly intoxicated brain a moment to realize it must be the woman's locker room at that same club.

The camera was aimed down between two rows of lockers, the long padded bench between them, and only the clicking time-stamp at the lower right hand corner of the screen marked the passage of time.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Just watch," his sister said.

A moment later a young teenage girl appeared on screen pulling on the hands of a younger one. Both were attractive and one was a total stranger. The smaller one being pulled, though, could be no other than Alina Rogers. Lana's daughter. The sight of her was unmistakable. She resembled her mother, only much, much younger. The girl was gorgeous. The bikini she was wearing in the footage he was seeing displayed her developing body, her budding breasts, her lithe yet toned legs, her fresh looking face. A month earlier he'd honestly thought he'd become the little hottie's stepfather within the year but now all he could do was stare at the girl on this security video.