35mm--A Taj and TJ Jackson Erotica Exclusive

This story is the result of an idea I've been kicking around for quite some time, but didn't really know how to bring to fruition for the blog. I had long wanted to do a story that involved Taj shooting a scandalous film, and it went in every direction in my mind from a solo to a full 3T project, to what I have posted below--a 2T story. As a writer of 3T fan fiction, as Taryll is my favorite I too often favor him. So I decided to challenge myself and write a story featuring ONLY his brothers, and here is the result. Enjoy!

"35mm"

A Taj and TJ Jackson Erotic Short Story By:

MJsLoveSlave

The corridor, painted a dreary, colorless shade of grey, seemed to stretch on into oblivion before her.

There was no sound to be heard, save the erratic, off-tandem beating of her heart and the dull pulsing of her blood in her ears

She moved slowly, tentatively, her eyes down cast on her feet, where the hard soles of her boots failed to produce a sound as she walked over the yellowed, linoleum beneath her, lit every few feet by a hanging, naked bulbs overhead.

It was cold....so very cold, and instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had worn more than a sweater dress that day.

How was it colder inside the building than outside?

Why?

The second question, the why, encompassed so much more than the falling temperatures that greeted.

Why was she here?

Why had she come?

Why had she allowed herself to so easily be talked into such a caper?

Did she not posses a mind of her own?

A will of her own?

Why hadn't she said no when present with such an idea?

She had looked them both in their faces when propositioned with such an outrageous suggestion, stared them both in their eyes....

...and had told them....

Yes.

She would go through with this.

She would participate.

But that had been then...when she had been impressed and dazzled.

Her better judgment clouded and fogged.

Now...now she wasn't quite so sure.

Ahead of her, only a few yards away, a pair of black steel doors stood shut.

Her throat tightened.

Beyond them, they waited for her.

Behind her, so far away it was a speck in the distance, were the doors she had entered through

She knew what was expected.

What was to happen.

She was frightened, her heart in her throat, her palms damp and clammy.

Her nerve waxing and waning with each step she took.

Yet, deep inside her, there was a glimmer of excitement.

Excitement that propelled her forward to the doors.

Excitement that raised her hand to the little buzzer alongside it, pressing it.

As a myriad of locks and latches clanged and disengaged, briefly, a small smile curled her lips.

A small smile of naughtiness at the idea that past those doors she was going to do things better left unspoken...

...and all before the unblinking eye of a camera's lens.

A Week and a Half Earlier

Mount Rosalind, New York

Autumn, 2014

“...scrambled eggs with lots of onion and shredded cheddar....bacon so crisp it's damn near burnt...toast, whole wheat for me, white for her...”

TJ Jackson remarked under his breath as he lingered a few feet from the breakfast nook in the far corner of his kitchen, watching the last droplets of coffee drizzling down into the round, glass pot on the granite counter top of the island.

Hastily, he was filling two mugs; his, plain blue with the New York Yankees insignia, hers white and covered in tiny golden hearts. His remained black, while he quickly tossed in too many spoons of sugar, sweetened cream and a dash of chocolate syrup, transforming hers into a piping hot mocha.

She always drank coffee that came disguised as a dessert.

A mouthful of the strong, bitter black was consumed, with TJ picking up the daintier mug, cradling it in his hands as a proud father would his firstborn and started for the swinging door at the opposite end of the room.

All was dim and delightfully warm as he took to the corridor, leading to the shut double doors of the bedroom near the rear of the sprawling bungalow he called home.

A bump of his strong hip allowed the door to creak softly open, with him entering the much darker master suit, that he navigated from memory. (and having stubbed his big toes too many times to count!)

Just inside the door, he stopped at the massive vanity, a gift from him to her for her birthday the previous month,and flicked a switch, illuminating the dozen round bulbs rimming the mirror, casting light on all of her makeup and tools.

The steaming mug was set beside her clear acrylic cup of brushes, and leaning he plugged in her phone, its case made to resemble a cupcake, so it would be fully charged, propping it up against a small framed photograph of himself.

TJ looked himself over in the mirror.

While he was never one to be conceited, he had every right to be as evidenced by the reflection staring back at him.

Though he'd been up since the crack of dawn, preparing breakfast—and cleaning up the four eggs he'd dropped on the tiled floor—he looked as fresh-faced and well-rested as ever.

He was tall, and lean, his body strong of muscle, particularly noticeable by the way his plaid sweatpants stretched and strained over wide, rippling hips and thighs, his upper body, defined pecs and abs outlined by the plain white tee hugging him.

His face, showing a youthful appearance, and fooled many in to believing he was still in his mid-twenties when he was in fact, much closer to forty.

He possessed classical, masculine features, chiseled cheekbones, a taut little chin, a fine, upturned nose, and a saucy pout, paired with his unlined, untouched by time features, gave TJ frankly jarring good looks.

His brows, quite bushy, but exceptionally groomed raised over his eyes, brown at first glance, but in the right lights, as then with those on the vanity, the hidden golden flecks sparkled.

The youngest of the three siblings, all of whom had the mixed blood of a Latina mother and African-American father pulsing through their veins, TJ was the only one whom had taken his father's complexion, a deep, rich, sienna, further intensified by healthy exposure to the sun in the out of doors.

Satisfied with his appearance—when was ever not—TJ proceeded over to the bed.

Eggshell satin draped everything from the quilted, padded headboard, the matching bench at the foot of the bed, and the body-shaped ball in the center.

The crystal and gold Deco-inspired lamp turned on, flooding the bed with light.

“Simone...”

He called delicately to the lump, watching it shift slightly, a dead giveaway that meant she was pretending to be asleep, rather than actually being.

After three years together, TJ had a pretty fair grasp of all of his lover's stunts and tricks.

Especially when it came to getting her out of bed.

Reaching down he grasped one of her ankles through the sumptuous bedding and tugged on it, repeating, his voice a touch stronger,

“Simone! Get up! It's half past eight, Doll-Baby! There's coffee on your dressing table, your phone is charging and breakfast is in the kitchen.”

“...oh...five more minutes...”

The sleepy, throaty voice pleaded and every hair on TJ from his head to his ass stood on end.

Simone owned a voice that hadn't been heard naturally in years; one that sounded like the actresses of a by-gone era.

Several times over the course of their relationship, TJ had asked what it was called, but at the moment, it slipped his mind yet again.

It was cultured, sounding a bit on the British side, although he knew full well Simone came from upstate New York without a drop of British blood to be claimed, and had been reared in Manhattan most of her life. Still...she didn't sound anything at all like other women they knew, even those who forced the effort to put on snobby airs.

Wiggling her foot a second time, TJ insisted,

“Now, Simone! I have something important to discuss with you--”

“Five minutes, Tito Joe, Darling! Please!”

In spite of himself, at the calling of his full name, TJ grinned sheepishly, and released her ankle, starting for the door.

Reaching it, with his back to her, he called casually, in Spanish,

“Te amo mucho mi princessa.”

(I love you so much, my princess.)

The sweet, tinkling, musical sound of her giggles followed him out the door and down the hall as he retreated back to the kitchen.

A short while later, TJ sat, pouring chunky salsa over his eggs, eyes on his phone, face down, it's case, made to resemble the braiding on a baseball gleaming under the lights.

The five minutes he'd afforded Simone had become fifteen, so long, he'd put her plate in the oven to keep and was contemplating texting her to get her up.

He hadn't been idly speaking earlier, he did have something he'd been itching to talk about.

Temper thinning, he dropped his fork and reached for his phone.

And found a smaller, soft and warm brown hand gripping his, the light dancing off the huge, faceted oval peach morganite center stone, flanked by smaller princess-cut diamonds, all set in white gold.

It wasn't an engagement ring, it wasn't a wedding ring...honestly, TJ was unsure what the costly piece of jewelry meant, only that he'd granted it to Simone the previous Christmas, when they had seen it in a window on Fifth Avenue.

As his hand continued to be squeezed, TJ's eyes dropped.

To the long, shapely legs, shining with cocoa butter, covered from the feet to the just above the knee by cable knit socks, a peek of thick thighs showing from the top of the socks to the hem of the pink short shorts of her pajamas, hugging and swelling over the soft, hips, waist nipping in under the long-sleeved top, a black heart on the front, stretching over a full, unrestrained and tear-drop shaped bosom.

His eyes lingered on her bosom, staring at the nipples pressing the fabric so plainly, and the heart-shaped rings through each also visible.

Finally having his fill, his eyes cascaded up her long, neck and into the face staring back down at him.

While his girlfriend had a penchant for cosmetics and thought nothing of spending up two hours, depending on the occasion, painting her face in, TJ cherished her most in her natural state, with nothing more than vanilla scented moisturizer on.

The beautiful cocoa-kissed complexion,features finer than his, save for the pouty, very kissable lips, that mirrored his in many ways—the full, arched brows, the upturned nose,the carved cheekbones.

Her hair was naturally curly, and usually fell in wild spirals that reached the middle of her back, actually very close to TJ's hair texture, though his was cropped down into a more manageable flat top.

Lately, as the weather became cooler and humidity down to a minimum, Simone had begun straightening her hair, which had been gathered into a messy bun atop her head that particular morning.

The most arresting of Simone's attributes were her eyes and had been one of the many attributes that had drawn TJ to her in the first place.

On a girl so enchantingly dark in every way, Simone's eyes were an astonishingly, clear, vibrant shade of ice blue.

The eyes were her own, without being falsified by contacts. TJ very early on found out it was a queer trait many members of the DeKalb family possessed and as far as he knew, went back at least five generations.

Intertwining his fingers with hers, TJ brought the back of her hand to his mouth, pecking the smooth, perfumed flesh, feeling her grip tighten

His eyes closed in a moment of ecstasy, her lips pressing his cheek just below the teeny beauty mark adorning it, lovingly.

She always did like smooching near his mole, and he never refused her the privilege.

He loved being close to her, so close that he could smell the sweet, powdery aroma of her signature scent, something French he couldn't pronounce, but loved just the same.

His nostrils flared as he greedily inhaled.

“What did you make?” She questioned, her voice a hot whisper , inducing chills all over his dermis.

“Your favorite, of course” He grinned up at her, pleased to see her returning the expression.

“Thank you, Darling.” His cheek was smacked a second time with her running a hand over his curls, Simone turning from him.

The shapely backside jiggled as Simone, a tireless caffeine fiend, made a beeline to the coffeepot, pouring a second mugful.

Much like her boyfriend, Simone seemed untouched by time, at twenty-eight, a full eight years younger than TJ, she didn't appear a day past twenty and even at her age she was still being carded because of her girlish looks.

TJ had been completely mad about her—and her about him—since they had met four years earlier, when Simone had been called into do accounting for his father's vintage automobile restoration business.

He knew it had to be love, he'd let the jack holding up a '56 Chevy drop and had nearly crushed his older brother Taryll's foot with the whole car crashing down as she had walked by.

Taryll had screamed in alternating English and Spanish calling him every name in the book and inventing a few more, but all TJ could see were haunting blue eyes and more curves than a wiggling snake.

It had taken TJ a good three months to even work up the nerve to ask Simone out.

Not so much because he'd been nervous or intimidated by her, which he had been, just a touch, but working as a mechanic for his father, TJ was usually smeared from head to toe in axle grease, in an unflattering barf green jumpsuit.

You just didn't approach breathtaking women looking like an extra from Taxi.

But at a point when it seemed like all hope was lost, fate intervened.

One warm spring day, TJ had been admiring Simone, in a little sundress as she had dropped off some bank statements to his father's secretary.

He kept his eyes on her, despite dropping a monkey wrench on Taryll's head, causing him to curse up a storm, as Simone slipped into her black corvette.

And tried several times to start it to no avail.

A second wrench fell on Taryll's hand as TJ had completely abandoned him,rushing to Simone's aid, his brother lying on the concrete, howling and writhing in pain.

It turned out that the fan belt on her engine had come loose.

And by the time TJ had tightened it accordingly, free of charge, he had sweet-talked and charmed his way into a date with the knockout.

Six months later the two were steady, and six months after that, the two had moved in together.

And there they were today.

A mechanic, who was also one of three heirs, along with his brothers to their father's restoration business which had sprouted from one to over a dozen locations in New York, New Jersey and Delaware.

And a freelance accountant from a wealthy, self-made family much like his own,though while the Jacksons were invested in vehicles and the fixing of them, the Dekalbs worked in upscale retail, with many stores across the state.

It was an odd paring, but a perfect pairing as far as both parties were concerned.

TJ remained silent, admiring Simone as she mixed up a diabetes-inducing coffee, pulling her plate out the oven and made her way back to the table, seating herself across from him.

Watching as, like him, she poured salsa over her eggs, then covered a slice of toast with both butter and grape jam.

Tearing a corner of toast loose, she went to her mouth with it, then stopped.

Blue eyes sought out his brown ones, her brows raising curiously at him, the bridge of that adorable little nose crinkling.

“TJ...” The bread went into her mouth, with her managing to speak clearly around it, as she chewed,

“Wasn't there something you wanted to discuss with me?”

“Oh...yeah...” A forkful of eggs went into his mouth, with him smacking loudly,

“You remember my brother, Taj, right?”

Simone folded an entire strip of bacon and consumed it with a nod, adding once she'd swallowed,

“Yes...the oldest of you three. The one who shows up to your garage every once in a blue moon or when Hell decides to freeze over. The strange one--”

“My brother is not strange, Simone.” TJ stated firmly, using a piece of his toast to sop up the last bits of egg on his plate. “It's just his passion isn't really geared towards the family business like it is for me and Taryll. He doesn't care much for fixing transmissions, or restoring engines, or trying to color-match the paint on a car that's been off the road since before Kennedy took that bullet--”

“Taj is the gypsy of the family...” Simone stated matter-of-factly, shaking another piece of toast at him to accent her point.

“He likes photography, and freelances at it. Now don't get me wrong, I think your brother shows promise as a photographer, really I do, he takes exquisite portraits. Hell, he takes all of ours—they're all over the house. But he's forty-one now, TJ. If that's where his heart is, why hasn't he opened a studio yet? Take out a loan, buy a storefront and start lining his pockets with green. I know Taj is much too proud to ask your father for a handout—all of you are as stubborn and pigheaded as mules!”

It was no secret that the Jacksons were a high-minded bunch and when taken with an idea went through with it fully, come hell, high water or whatever other form of disaster.

“Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Sweetie...” TJ became occupied spreading another piece of toast with jam only.

“You mentioned how few and far in between sightings of Taj have been. Do you know where he's been for about the last year, off and on?”

“Not particularly...” Simone shrugged with the utmost in nonchalance, and reached for more strips of fried hog. “Enlighten me.”

She choked on the pork when TJ informed her,

“Manitoba.”

“Canada?” She pushed a linen napkin to her mouth, hacking into it. “Your brother's been in Canada all this time—why?”

His next reply further perplexed her, as he rose to refresh his mug of more black coffee.

“He's been shooting a film.”

“A film?” Simone blinked in disbelief, turning in her seat to stare. “Taj has been shooting a film? Like feature-length? Are you bullshitting me, TJ?”

Taj Jackson had pulled some capers in his day, but this was too much, even for him in Simone's eyes!

The mug, once at TJ's mouth was set on the counter with him inquiring solemnly,

“Have I ever lied to you before, Simone?”

“No--”

“Then why would I start now?”

“Tito Joe...” Simone stood, a hand to her forehead, her mind struggling to make sense of all this information bombarding her. “I appreciate you taking the scenic route, but what does your brother traipsing all over the land of a million maple leaves, pretending he's Spike Lee have to do with us?”

His finger ran the rim of the cup, producing a dull tone.

“Taj called me while I was cooking earlier. He was so excited on the phone. He wrote the screenplay, the script, shot the film himself, edited it, produced it and paid actors with money out his own pocket that he'd been saving the greater part of ten years, to achieve a dream he's had since he was in high school—shoot his own horror film.”

“My mistake, not Spike Lee, he's Wes Craven!” Simone scoffed and rapidly fell silent when she was shot a disapproving glance.

“Saturday night, he's screening the film, at a theatre he's rented out downtown. We've been invited—and we're going to support him. He's my brother. I'm going to back him up and support him in whatever he does, photography, film making, run off and join Ringling Brothers. We're supporting him.”

Sinking back into her seat, Simone echoed, dejectedly,

“We're supporting him. What do I wear to this film premiere? Something formal? An evening gown? I need to know if I have to shake out the boutiques on such short notice! Saturday is three days away! Find a dress then have it altered just so--”

“Naw, naw, naw, Simone!” A large hand began flagging at her.

“This is a small, intimate screening. A few friends, some family. Sort of a dry run to gauge how people respond to it before he tries to shop it around to the big companies and distributors. You can wear jeans if you want. This is no different than us going out to any other movie, really.”

It wasn't lost on TJ the brief pout he witnessed cross her cherubic face, as he knew Simone's hobby, other than making his blood pressure spike, was to go shopping.

And even though he'd stated the outing was to be casual, she'd put some kind of extraneous spin on it anyway.

Picking her fork back up, as TJ returned to the table, Simone simpered,

“As long as I can have popcorn, a Coca-Cola Icee and a Hershey's Cookies 'N' Creme bar, everything will be alright.”

Cackling, TJ leaned forward, taking her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers.

“Anything you want, Princessa!”

Two Days Later

It had only taken TJ Jackson a bit more than half an hour to glide through his nightly shower, but as he emerged from adjoining bathroom back into the master suite, slapping cologne along his throat and jaw, he saw that Simone had been quite the busy little beaver in his absence.

Before he'd gone in to wash off the stink of the day, Simone had been seated at her vanity, removing makeup and mulling over what colors to wear to the premiere of Taj's film the following evening.

The last he'd heard was her trying to decide if she wanted to wear blue or red.

Now he saw, as demonstrated by the ensemble hanging from a portable rack between the dressing table and bed, she'd decided on a scheme of blue: a cropped cashmere sweater, darker-rinse, high-waist, and distressed jeans, blue pumps and a clutch purse.

On the table, following suit, makeup palettes in icy blues and other complimentary tones had been set out, along with a large pair of blue chalcedony earrings and a bracelet.

TJ scoffed to himself.

No matter how informal an event, his sweetheart always managed to turn it into a runway show. He let her be, because deep down, he did get a certain thrill out of watching heads turn as he walked into a room with such a little stunner.

Circling back to the far end of the bed—he knew better than to come between his girl and her makeup stand—he started to climb in...

...and stopped as Simone came flouncing through the open bedroom door.

He wasn't focused on the three-quarter length, dyed blue genuine fox fur suspended by her hand, he was instead focused on HER.

Simone was dressed about as simply as simple could get—a dusky grey cami with loose pajamas bottoms with green dots, her hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, bouncing with each step she took in her bare feet.

TJ went unnoticed as he ogled her, with Simone stopping to hang the coat with the rest of her clothing.

How exquisite she looked to him, the fabric skimming over and hugging all of her generous curves, her hourglass shaped figure calling to him.

Awakening parts of him that continuously yearned for her.

The way her breasts swayed ever so gently as she moved back her forth, her bountiful booty wiggling, those toned thighs.

The coat hung, she plucked her cupcake phone from the dressing table and picked it, speaking to him, but hardly heard, her thumbs flying over the device,

“I have to go in early to Mel's to get my nails done tomorrow. Something simple, probably a nude shade of some sort. I would do French tips, but they seem so passe now...”

TJ's ears were fairly ringing as Simone bounced up into the bed, all of her luscious body quivering as she reclined back against the pillows continuing to fool with her phone.

So close to her, he could smell that candy-like fragrance that always clung to her soft form.

It was making him high and getting him hot in places that only she could bring relief to.

Licking his lips eagerly, he leaned and pressed them to her warm, tender shoulder, eliciting a mild giggle from her.

“TJ...”

His name came out muffled, his mouth smothering hers, in a searing smooch, the mattress squeaking beneath them as TJ, lips still connected to hers, began to straddle her, his weight mashing her down in the most alluring way.

“TJ...”

The phone was snatched from her hands and placed on the nightstand, his name repeated as TJ lifted his head for a second to draw a breath of air, attacking her mouth again, this time, plunging his sliver of a tongue into the moist, depths of her mouth.

Aha, not only had she been getting her coat, she had dipped into the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer too, he could taste it!

It did seem the right flavor for such a woman, sweet, chocolaty, and a hint of mint...

“TJ...”

There was a minor scuffle against the pillows, as TJ took hold of Simone's wrists, pinning her down to the satin, sucking on her bottom lip.

“TJ...wait...” He heard her gasp, his mouth finding it's way to her throat, his face half-hidden in her tresses, tongue flicking at her earlobe, his breaths getting heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“But...I need you, Princessa...” He whispered into her ear, a kiss laid on her jawline. “We've got all night. “I ...I wanna do it nice and slow...we've got all night...”

“TJ!”

Again Simone was muffled, a large hand, smelling of Armani Code for Men covering her mouth.

His other hand took hold of the front of her scant top, pulling at the fabric, until it fell far enough to expose those large, brown globes, each small, Hershey's Kiss of an areola adorned with a white gold heart.

“Oh God...” TJ's voice cracked with wanton, his head falling back,gaze up at the ceiling, a rawness throbbing between his thighs, begging to be loosed all over her, each hand taking to a tit and starting to massage them.

He could barely contain himself.

“I...I can't wait--”

“STOP.”

Immediately, TJ's head came down and his brows raised to his hairline in question, staring off into the orbs of blue narrowing up at him.

“W-why?”

It was then he noticed the blue eyes averting from his...and he squinted at her.

“Are...are you still...?” Sheer modesty kept him from completing the sentence, but it was enough to garner a nod of embarrassment from Simone.

“Shit.” He grumbled under his breath, hastily recovering her breasts, saying out loud, “I'm sorry, I...I didn't know.”

Her eyes remained downcast as TJ collected himself and his erection and slipped off her, reclining on the pillows beside her, tucking his arms under his head.

Scowling at the ceiling, he sighed, complaining, unable to mask the air of disappointment in his voice,

“It's been nearly two weeks, Simone. I understand it's a girly thing and that it has to happen but...”

He grunted and his eyes shut in anguish,

“...I'm getting kind of cockeyed over here, Baby. Can't wait for...that...to end...”

She was playing in his hair, twirling some of his curls betwixt her fingers.

“And is that all you care about, Tito Joe?”

Eyes opening, he was confronted by that perfect little face, pouty lips puckered and pushed out, in what he knew was feigned anger.

“You know I care for you, Simone. It's more than just tits and ass...”

She started to smile, when he snorted,

“...but your tits and ass do sweeten the pot--OW!”

TJ cried out with a chuckle as Simone commenced to pinching him all over his arms and chest.

“Stop! Ha! Stop! Girl! Simone! Princessa! Simone! Ha! Ha! Ouch!”

Quickly, he had Simone in a bear hug, squeezing her plump body to his, with her giggling and huffing against his chest.

After a while the noise ceased, Simone having drifted off in his arms as she so often did on those nippy fall nights.

Leaving TJ alone, with his scorching arousal and no way to alleviate it.

But that would change soon...very, very soon.

The Following Evening

The last Saturday in October had began as one of those unseasonably warm days, one of those days that could trick a person into believing that summer was not quite over and that autumn was still perhaps a few weeks at bay.

But as day had turned to night, with dusk starting to fall, so had the temperatures, and shortly before seven o'clock the temperatures were hovering near freezing.

Brisk, stubbornly cold breezes blew here and there and the few leaves still clinging to the treetops swayed in response, while their counterparts appeared inky black skeletons on the horizon.

It was the type of weather many sought to avoid being caught in, if possible.

On the very outskirts of Mount Rosalind, where residential streets became rural, most of the one hundred and fifty of Taj Jackson's “closest” confidantes could have been found milling about and loitering within the brightly, garishly lit lobby of the Egyptian Theatre, some selecting caloric snacks to nosh on, others other killing time in any way they could manage.

Most did not mean 'all'.

As on the very outside of the building, masked by shadow and only visible to the ostentatious renditions of King Tutankhamen's sarcophagus adorning the facade of the theatre, a couple embraced, their strained breaths reading as hot puffy white clouds at odds with the dipping mercury.

Simone Dekalb stood, partially on tiptoe, her arms around TJ Jackson's long, swan-like throat, eyes shut as his lips mashed hers in a feverish frenzy,her fur hanging open, his arms clasped around the exposed small of her waist.

Every so often, the pair staggered, bumping against the rough brick and mortar holding the walls, and themselves up, tongues swishing against each other.

Four different times, Simone had tried to break the embrace, as she knew the showing of the film would not be halted for the two of them, and each time she tried, large hands had grabbed after her, her buttocks, her coat, and the last two times, her face, those tender, sweet lips assaulting her own, changing her mind so easily and rapidly.

“Tee...Tee...TJ...” She whispered, managing to pull her head away, and out of his grasp as he laid a hand in her hair in an attempt to kiss her some more.

“The film starts in less than thirty minutes! We have to get our snacks...stop it...and find seats...Tito Joe!”

A cloud coming from flared nostrils, TJ, much less clad against the elements than Simone, in only a chambray shirt, loosened at the throat and black slacks, cocked his curly head slightly, brows raised in teasing,

“You know you don't want me to stop, Princessa...” He told her, pausing to peck her forehead.

“You know what I want to do--”

A slim finger, topped with a dark beige painted nail halted his speech,

“And you know I can't right now, TJ...a few more days...”

Lashes fluttered and even in the dimness, the glitter in her icy blue shadow sparkled.

A low growl of defeat popped from around her finger, TJ giving up, knowing he couldn't fight Mother Nature and what naturally occurred in women, and instead, took the small chilled hand in his.

“Can't...” His brows wiggled devilishly, “Can't I get a little something, though? Um...a little...head?”

Simone scoffed and pushing off the wall, she was tugging him to the revolving door of the lobby, admonishing,

“You know where that leads...”

She was stopped right as she reached the glass and bronze slowly rotating, TJ's hand on the back of her neck, lips bumping her earlobe as he suggested,

“Handjob then? Just stroke me a few times--”

Smiling, Simone repeated with guffaw,

“You know where that leads!”

His arm draped her shoulder as they passed through the door and into the lobby, loud with mixed chatter and heavy with the scent of buttered, salty popcorn.

“How much longer?” TJ physically bounced against her with impatience, sorrow twisting his handsome features.

“A couple more days...I promise” His cheek was pinched with Simone adding,

“I don't like waiting either.”

Their fingers intertwined,and those blue eyes shimmered up at him.

“Now, will you please go get us something to chew on, before the picture starts.”

“I'd like to chew on you...” TJ retorted aiming to be sexy and stiffened with shame as a voice snorted,

“I don't think this is that kind of picture, Bro!”

A few yards away, making a rapid approach was a man, several candy bars in one hand, being waved.

He was an inch or so shorter than TJ, a bit huskier and with softer, more delicate good looks than TJ, in the form of a complexion that bore a caramel cast and hazel eyes, their greenish flecks brought out by the camouflage print shirt he wore with jeans.

His senior by three years, was TJ's long suffering and oft-injured brother, Taryll.

“Hey, Bro!” The two, bumping fists as was their general way of recognizing one another.

“Hey Simone!” He was hugging against her

“Hi Taryll...” She grinned, reaching up to pinch his cheek, teasing,

“Don't tell me you're flying solo tonight! Where's your better half?”

The same cheek reddened immensely as Taryll sputtered, the love for his girlfriend soaring, unchecked to the surface like magma from a volcano,

“P-Paulette is here...she's at the snack counter, waiting on a hot dog...”

Regaining his composure, Taryll elbowed his sibling in the ribs, chortling,

“So what do you think of all this? Taj making a movie? I swear, my hair about straightened out when he called me out the blue saying 'Man, I finally finished 'The Mystic!' and I was like 'What the hell is 'The Mystic'? I mean I knew he was in Canada, but I didn't know he was making a film. I thought his happy ass was just camping in the woods up there!”

“ 'The Mystic'?” TJ repeated, bushed brows going up. “Is that what he's calling it? He didn't even tell me the title!”

“You know that joker has always been flaky--” Taryll was interrupted by a slim exotic looking creature in a camo dress that matched his shirt perfectly, slipping an arm around his waist, a hot dog slathered with mustard in her hand.

“Honey...” She was hardly heard over the din. “They've finally opened the auditorium, lets get our seats.”

“Sure...” Taryll was a beet with eyes, he flushed so hard. “Paulette, you remember my brother TJ, and his girlfriend, Simone.”

A nod of recognition was all they were afforded before Taryll was pulled, shuffling away behind his woman.

“There goes a chick that does not waste words.” Simone shook her head, as TJ laid hands on her shoulders through the blue fur.

“You go snatch us a couple of seats, I'll make a quick run for food, since it's thinning out down there. And not too close to the screen! I hate looking up, I get a cramp in my neck!”

Simone lingered, watching him go, a teeny pang of guilt in her chest.

TJ's want for physical love was not one-sided.

She did yearn for him as much as he did her.

And once nature had run it's course, she did plan to knock the kinks out of his hair for him...

Shoving her hand sin her pockets and proceeding up the red carpeted staircase, it was unforseen just how this task would be accomplished.

A brief interval later, Simone had seated herself in the center of the tenth row of the auditorium, the rest of the seats around her bare, save for the one next to her, reserved for her man, her fur flung over it.

She was no party to a conversation and her phone in it's pastry-shaped case was held idly in her hands, its screen darkened, as her attention was on her surroundings, and not that of the other guests.

As her manner of speaking hearkened to a by-gone era, so did her taste in architecture, and standing in a prime example of the height of Egyptomania of the 1920s.

True to its name, the Egyptian's interior was made of pinkish-adobe colored walls, accented every few feet with more renditions of Tut's coffin, above which a sconce in the shape of a phoenix in flight lit the room.

Between each ornate casket were tapestry murals of ancient Egypt, the pyramids, and Cleopatra being bitten by the asp.

Up front, a huge stage, flanked by a pair of pillars covered in hieroglyphics, the silver screen was concealed by the most massive mural, depicting the inner workings of The Valley of the Kings.

Averting her gaze, Simone checked her phone, seeing the time as seven twenty-eight, and was contemplating shooting TJ a text to hurry him up, when somewhere near the back of the room, someone cried,

“Woot! Woot! It's the man of the hour!”

As cheers, whistles and scattered applause rang out, Simone's head came up, in time to see a lone man ambling to the center of the stage, a wireless microphone in one hand.

He had a very unassuming air about himself, his tall, broad, and a bit chubby body the most dressed-down in the room, bearing a simple grey jogging suit over a grey tee and plain black sneakers.

He was an attractive man, his looks neither so classic as TJ's nor refined as Taryll's, but it was a florid masculinity that took his face, a bit rounder, more plush, accented with straighter brows over sleepy dark eyes, eyes that were visibly darting here and to around the room, above a patrician nose and lips so full and pert, that even at rest, they appeared to be pushed out on purpose.

His hair, dark and cropped close on the sides were a mess of curls at the crown, though much tighter and a bit coarser than his siblings.

Standing there, in all his glory, was Taj Jackson.

He lingered a long moment, allowing the din to die down to a minimum, before raising the microphone to his mouth.

“Um...haha...” He chuckled, his tentativeness obvious, and Simone felt her lips curling as she knew Taj was painfully shy, and addressing a crowd with all eyes on him wasn't his strong point.

“I...I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight...for supporting me and my project...um...”

His voice deep and resonant, cracked on the last word, his nerves showing themselves,

“This has been an endeavor quite a long while in the making. As many of you know, I've always enjoyed anything that had to do with a camera. Photography mainly, but when I was still in high school...I don't know why...I just had this need in me to shoot a film. A horror film in particular.”

His eyes moved about again, and landed on Simone.

Alone, a beacon in blue.

Even ten rows out, his eyes found her cornflower luminescent ones and the two shared the gaze for what seemed longer than mere seconds.

It was a gesture not lost on Simone.

Over the years, she couldn't recall having shared more than a handful of words with Taj, if that many and found it odd he'd stare her down from his perch on the stage.

It was a touch unnerving, though at the same time, in spite of herself, she did glean a particle of satisfaction from his leering at her.

“I've always had an idea in my head...” He finally stammered absently rubbing at his hip, “...the story I wanted to tell—which eventually became 'The Mystic' which you're all going to see tonight. It's taken me over ten years to get the story onto...onto film...”

As he continued to mumble and burble his way through his speech, mentioning that the people he cast were now out on other projects, TJ materialized beside Simone, flipping her coat out the way, and seating himself, handing her a Cookies N Creme bar and huge Icee, while he balanced a tub of popcorn in his lap.

“...and here's to 'The Mystic'! Enjoy!”

Overhead the lights dimmed, cheers and applause stronger as Taj half walked, half ran from the stage, the curtains parting, his name in bold letters starting to flash on the screen.

Straw dangling from her mouth, Simone rested her head against TJ's shoulder ready to, as Taj had so cheerfully encouraged, enjoy the film.

* * *

An hour later, Simone Dekalb was nowhere near enjoying 'The Mystic'.

The premise of the film had been solid enough, revolving around a young woman whom had lost the greater part of her family due to a series of mysterious accidents, ranging from her husband being bucked off a horse and breaking his neck, to one of her children being electrocuted by sticking scissors into an outlet, to name a couple, and finding out that all of the incidents were a result of a curse having been laid on her family some fifty years ago.

Apparently, the only way to rid herself and future generations of more misfortune, was to find the last living relative of the woman whom had first perpetuated the curse...the mystic.

And that was pretty much where the film had gone downhill.

From there the film transformed from horror in the loosest possible sense, yes there was a healthy body count and even a few animal sacrifices thrown in for good measure, but what grabbed Simone by her throat with an unflinching iron-clad grasp was the sexuality.

In the last hour, there were no less than four, graphic depictions of intercourse, with extremely little left to the imagination as both full frontal and rear nudity were shown, with the acts themselves, so explicit they verged on the edge of disturbingly pornographic.

And across the theatre, it was this detail that seemed to be drawing the most reaction from the crowd, leaving it mixed at best.

Some oohed and aahed, transfixed by the tawdry spectacles, while others tried to conceal groans of dismay.

Still, others, like Taryll's girlfriend Paulette, seated several rows behind Simone and TJ had outright stood and fled the theatre, leaving Taryll to scamper after her, a candy bar still jutting from his mouth in his haste.

There had been sex between the woman and her husband shortly before his death, sex with a trucker whom had picked her up on the side of the road as she had hitchhiked her way through the wilderness, and twice with the mystic himself , a man who appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties with overgrown hair, everywhere, and a long Van Dyke beard, both as part of a “ritual cleansing”.

Although it was debatable how rolling around all over the forest floor in front of the woodland creatures could be deemed as “cleansing”.

So true to life the intimate scenes seemed, it was difficult for Simone to tell if they had been expertly staged or not, leaving her with a distressing confusion and a torrent of heady emotions tumbling over one another.

Much like Paulette, she'd have made a hasty getaway, if it weren't for two things.

Firstly, TJ Jackson was completely and wholly mesmerized by the mix of gore and whore on the flickering screen, his mouth hanging open, the single piece of chocolate he'd intended to eat, resting and slowly melting on his tongue, one hand fixed onto Simone's thigh, his nails digging as it was obvious the lust that had been building inside him the last few days were waging war within.

It was noted that for every thrust onscreen, his hand would flex against her thigh.

He hardly blinked, his breathing was labored, heavy and erratic.

Secondly, of all the places to drop his freight, Taj Jackson had chosen to sit directly in front of Simone. Over a thousand seats and that's where he parked himself.

So close was he to the pair that, even in her lowest register, if she'd begged TJ to leave, Taj would have likely overheard her, and she didn't want to offend him.

But really, how much more of this could she take?

She hated to admit it, but to some extent, she was becoming flustered right along with TJ and in a room full of people, it was a haunting, even humiliating prospect.

Something else that bothered Simone was how Taj was reacting to his own film.

In a room overflowing with people having very evident and audible reactions, Taj Jackson remained stoic and motionless.

He didn't even eat any snacks, and hadn't really moved a muscle since the film had commenced.

The only times Simone had witnessed any sort of motion from Taj was during the dirtier scenes.

Each time, his head had turned to the right, leaving his face in profile, but she could have sworn on a stack of Holy Bibles he had been peeking back at her.

And just as quickly, he'd turn to face the screen again. No words exchanged, no sounds made.

Was...was he gauging her response? And if so, why?

Another half hour of being unraveled, and Simone, reaching for the popcorn in TJ's lap, had been distracted by the sacrifice of wild boar—who knew a hog could make so much noise when clubbed with a pickaxe—her hand missed the tub entirely and instead landed on his groin.

Blue eyes at first widened in horror then squinted in the darkness to make certain she was feeling accurately...

...and she was.

Aside from being bodily stiff, there was an unmistakable swelling pressing against the fly of his Levis—TJ was hard!

Was this X-rated cinematic feat arousing him?

The squinted eyes moved to his face, finding him still with that odd expression, awe mixed with goofiness, that hunk of chocolate still melting.

She rolled her eyes...wasn't that just like a man?

See a loose pair of breasts or an unrestrained ass and all the blood in their bodies outsourced to one member.

Of course, she could scarcely blame him. He had been so patient and waiting out her 'troubles', and she was planning on alleviating him as soon as possible.

Really he was so respectful and considerate of her during those times...it had to be hard for him, wanting, and having to wait.

But good things did come to those who did wait.

After what seemed an eternity of depravity, the film culminated in its final sequence, a blatant orgy in the middle of the woods, which, as the mystic himself achieved climax declared that the curse had finally been absolved, and the theatre was plunged into darkness a long moment.

As the lights came up, the ending credits rolling—with Taj's name listed for about everything except the actual acting—applause shook the rafters.

Rising from his seat, a few of the revelers rushing to congratulate and hug him, Taj waved his hands over his head for attention.

Simone, shut TJ's sagging mouth for him, as Taj announced, raising his voice to be heard over everyone else.

“Thank you! Thank you! We'll reconvene in exactly ninety minutes down the street at Bella Bistro!”

With the theatre rapidly starting to empty, everyone headed to raise hell at the nearby Italian eatery, Simone climbed to her feet, putting on her most charming smile, as she found Taj's eyes on her expectantly, and in an instance in which she could not explain, she found she had thrust her arms out to him, and heard her own voice attesting politely, and lying brazenly,

“Amazing film, Taj, I thoroughly enjoyed it!”

Why no lightning bolts sailed out of Heaven to strike her down, she never knew.

A glint of surprise, mingled with something else Simone couldn't quite put her finger on to identify showed in his eyes, as leaned forward, over the seats, embracing her, tightly.

Those same cloud-like lips grazed her cheek, with Taj whispering off into her ear,

“Thank you...Sweetie.”

Three simple words, but enough to make Simone aware of her surroundings and the mild off-putting vibe that had plagued her the entire film returned with the force of a locomotive, and pulling from Taj, she turned to TJ, stooping to retrieve her coat.

“I'm going to go freshen my makeup, excuse me.”

Her words were biting and curt and she was swiftly moving away, keenly aware that Taj had been staring up at her, a queer smile on his lips.

Once she reached the entrance ot the auditorium,intuition forced her look back.

Though TJ was actively speaking to him, Taj's eyes were honed in on her and only her.

Simone dashed from the room so quickly, she knocked over another woman.

Left to their own devices, an impromptu bull session sparked between the siblings.

“...so...things are still going hot and heavy with you and Simone?”

Hand to the dimple in his chin, Taj inquired, interrupting TJ's asking if the pig sacrifice had been genuine, as he rounded the row of seats to stand closer to his younger sibling.

“Oh yeah...” TJ nodded, picking up his untouched Icee for a much needed drink. “Never better.”

Still stroking after his chin, eyes on the vacant doorway, Taj commented, envy lacing his voice,

“Simone is a very beautiful girl—built exactly how I like them—no offense, TJ. Can't fault me for noticing her figure. I didn't mean to stare so hard, it just happened.”

“None taken...”

Though his placid expression didn't change, the air around TJ heightened upon the realization that his elder sibling had been eyeing his girlfriend's body.

And he made the effort to speedily change the topic to throw the attention OFF her.

“I saw that sort of figure was your aesthetic...your leading lady had a build close to Simone's. “ He pointed out, with a wry chuckle, adding, as he pushed an elbow into Taj's ribs,

“Did anything happen between you and her? I mean, things got pretty wild and raunchy in that movie. Woo!”

Shoulders went up and down with indifference, Taj admitting quietly,

“Most of the sex was done with a body double. The girl waited until she'd already been cast with contracts signed to lay it in me that she didn't really do nudity on film...”

Taj trailed off, his eyes dropping down to his shoes, the white of his teeth showing as he added smugly,

“...I got her naked anyway...how could I not? We were running around in the wood for damn near a solid year together!”

Icee almost came flying from TJ's nostrils,with him choking,

“You and her? You and that girl? Taj--”

Hands were flagging at him, Taj stressing,

“Don't get wound up, TJ! Whatever you want to call what me and Claire—that's her name—had, it was over before it could even get started properly...shit. Our interests went in different directions...”

It was his turn to elbow TJ.

“...if you know what I mean.”

“Oh.” TJ's head bobbed with understanding, Taj admitting rather flippantly,shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“I like my women on the freakier side. Claire wasn't with it...so...no use in wasting time and energy.”

The brothers loitered a moment, and Taj gave his sibling a head to toe scan with knowing eyes.

“Are you sure you and Simone are alright? You look about as tight as a damn snare drum right now.”

“Uh...”

Cheeks growing scarlet, TJ put a hand to the back of his neck, shrugging, more color spreading across and darkening his face as Taj asked him pointedly, eyes blazing in their sockets.

“Are you handling that girl the way she needs to be?”

Giving up, TJ sank into his seat, head shaking with remorse,

“Truthfully? No. But it's not that we're fighting or anything. We never fight. You know how me and her get on...it's just...she's got 'lady troubles' right now. I mean, we had to cool off. I can't jump her when she's like that. It's not right. I respect her. I'm horny as hell—your picture didn't help—but I know when to touch her and when not to.”

“How long you been sidelined because of 'Mother Nature' butting in?”

TJ's eyes swelled and he inhaled harshly, confiding,

“Almost two fucking weeks! Do you know what kind of torture it is for me to live with her? Have her walking around all the time? She wears the cutest things and that body is bouncing and jiggling in front of me. We've been together for years, so I know what I'm missing and most nights my loins are about to bust up in flames—what?”

Elder sibling bent over younger, lips flapping off into his ear relaying an idea...not so very new.

Pushing back in his seat, TJ's brow furrowed and he pulled after his own chin denoting,

“Well, we have discussed it a few times, and she did seem kind of into it, we just never got around to it.”

Hand pressing down on his shoulder, Taj more instructed than suggested,

“Ask her again!”

Ten minutes and a jaunt out to TJ's covertible for a swig of the aged bourbon he kept in a flask concealed in the glove compartment later , Simone had managed to regain her bearings and her nerve to endure more of the evening in Taj's company, as she was quite certain she'd soon find herself at the after party.

The lobby of the Egyptian, not so long ago filled with laughter and chatter, was now devoid of most sound, other than that of the heels of her shoes clacking as she made her way to the staircase, leading back to the auditorium.

An auditorium devoid of life, save for two people: TJ and Taj Jackson.

The pair had been conversing in low tones, but all speech had halted as Simone returned to them, both staring up at her strangely.

TJ wore a broad, almost silly smile, and Taj looked very much as he had when he'd been onstage, stern and serious, with that funny glow in his eye.

Clueless to the discussion that had gone on without her, Simone returned the odd stares looking at each in turn, and reaching for her coat, she questioned,

“What?”

“Doll-Baby...” TJ took several steps towards her, hugging her fur to his chest. “...you know that thing we've been talking about doing for time now...?”

“What thing?”

Why was Taj starting to smile at her like that?

“You know...” TJ shifted from one leg to the other, glancing at his brother.

“You and me...making a movie...Taj is willing to shoot it for us...”

Simone laughed.

And stopped right away when she found she was the only one.

Blue eyes became slits in her pretty brown face, with her hissing in astonishment,

“You're...you're serious, Tito Joe?”

“Yes.” He gave one definitive nod, which reduced Simone to a sputtering fit.

“I...I can't do that...” Her hand, clammy and damp, went to her throat and she staggered, her knees growing weak at the insinuation. “I mean...TJ! I can't...I can't do that--”

“And why can't you, Simone?”

Coolly, Taj was on his feet, inching from his aisle and rounding about to theirs.

His hands were in front of him, thumbs twiddling as he came so close to her, the puffs of air from his nostrils were colliding with her face.

His eyes were so dark and piercing as he looked upon her, bottom lip twisting as he chewed on it.

“You're...you're...” She was growing hoarse. “You're his brother! I can't get naked and do...that in front of you!”

“Why can't you, Simone?” His gaze dropped to the swelling pressing the front of her sweater. “Would you rather be in front of a complete and total stranger? Have someone you never met, looking at you...”

His eyes came back up to hers.

“No...” She was backing away with each step Taj took towards her until she bumped against TJ.

Strong hands massaged her shoulders with him whispering from behind her,

“I know you're nervous, Sugar. Give Taj a minute...he'll make you comfortable. He'll put you at ease.”

Comfortable? At ease?

What the hell was Taj about to do to her?

With TJ's consent, no less!

Again, Taj's eyes fell to her bosom, starting to quiver and jerk with apprehension as he came still closer.

“Simone...”He all but hissed her name. “You needn't be nervous around me. The three of us...we're going to get along...”

Playfully he rubbed his knuckles against her cheek.

“...but we need your cooperation the most...do you understand me?”

His tongue was visible for a split second, dampening his plump lips.

His head dipped and he was peering at her through his lashes, mouth held out, above it, his nostrils were flaring.

“Kiss him.”

She barely heard TJ's instruction, but felt him tucking her hair behind her ears, giving his brother a clear shot at her face.

“I don't bite...” Taj chuckled, positioning himself in front of her, legs parted a bit.

“...unless you're into that.”

“Hmmm!”

His mouth enveloped hers so rapidly, so unceremonious, without abandon.

Simone had readily seen it coming and still, was caught so off-guard by his mouth, its moistness, its pillowiness, her knees buckled and she'd have sunk to the floor, had it not been for Taj throwing his arms around her.

Bracing her to his body, mouth all over hers, kissing her in a much more wild and animalistic manner, so different from TJ's milder, slower and more even one.

In spite of herself, Simone found her hands on Taj's shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of his hoodie.

Then her beige nails were raking through his curls, her knees buckling a second time, but his grip so abrasive, he refused to let her fall from him.

Simone's heart pounded in her chest her blood pressure spiking as she began to submit, nay even enjoy this tawdry act—kissing her boyfriend's brother, right in front of him.

She bounced against Taj, with him changing his grip, hands dropping to her backside, mashing so fiercely into the mounds of flesh, she was lifted off her feet, her arms wrapping his thick neck for stability.

His mouth...it was intoxicating.

Suddenly he came up for air, his chubby cheek blazing hot as it pressed hers, his breaths timorous, as he told her,

“You...you have a magnificent ass, Simone...”

“Ugh!” She grimaced and tensed, the palm of his hand slapping her left buttock so hard she wanted to burst into tears , the sensation so sharp and stinging.

Slowly, reluctantly, Taj pulled back, and was eyeing her chest once more as Simone fought to catch her breath.

For a second his eyes darted past her to TJ, his straight brows going up in inquiry.

Stealthily, they returned to her a hand going out and clutching at her sweater.

“Taj--” Simone tried to jerk away, but found TJ's hands on her shoulders and biceps, holding her in place as Taj proceeding to lift her top, exposing her bare breasts as she had neglected to wear a bra that evening.

Of course, she hadn't counted on flashing anyone, let alone her boyfriend's brother!

She was powerless as she was uncovered, the teeniest of gasps exuding from Taj as he caught sight of her mounds, the white gold hearts sparkling.

“Jesus...” Taj's teeth grit so hard, there was an perceptible crunch of enamel. “Her nipples are pierced!”

His eyes shut, and his nostrils danced as he took a few breaths in what seemed an attempt to control himself.

Simone watches as his brow first buckled then smoothed.

“Come here--”

Her arm was grabbed and she was tugged so hard she came close to falling in her heels, with Taj swinging her around, so that her back was to him.

Simone had a glimpse of TJ's face.

He was smiling.

He was smiling smugly at her, so hard the corners of his eyes were crinkling up.

TJ was enjoying this...he was enjoying watching.

Taj's hand was under her jaw making her look up at the vaulted ceiling. His mouth flush to her throat, tongue swabbing it.

“Oh God...” Simone mumbled, going hot all over.

His hands were on her breasts, shaking and squeezing them, fingertips flashing over the darker nipples, twisting the rings passing through them.

“Your titties....your ass...you're perfect...” Taj groaned into her neck, sucking at the flesh.

Simone's eyes had been closed in response to the sensations overwhelming her, but popped open, new feeling screaming for her attention.

Taj was pressing his groin against her buttocks.

Pumping his hips...dry-humping her.

And she could very clearly feel his engorged girth through her jeans, panties, his sweatpants and hopefully, some sort of shorts!

At once, Taj hugged her more tightly, so tightly, he threatened to pull one of the hearts from her mammaries.

He kissed her cheek and loosed her.

Running a hand down her back, inducing chills, her sweater falling back into place, Taj alerted TJ,

“I'll...I'll text you the location for the shoot as soon as I can secure it, alright?”

“Sure man...”

“Simone...”

Taj sidestepped around her so they faced one another.

“Y-Yes...?”

Why were his eyes so intense? So penetrating?

His lips hovered in front of hers with him speaking into her mouth,

“I can't wait to direct a beauty like you...I only hope you don't burn my set down...”

Her mouth was smacked and Taj was ambling away.

Quietly, without any sort of fanfare, just as he had when he'd entered the stage.

TJ stood beside her, the pair watching Taj go.

When he passed through the doors and from sight,

Simone, shaken, dizzy and overheated, questioned timidly, the answer unspoken yet known to her,

“TJ, will I have to fuck your brother?”

His hand was warm as he intertwined their fingers, and led her towards the door.

Leaving the auditorium behind them, TJ Jackson spoke only one word:

“Maybe.”

* * *

Over the course of the following seven days, preparations and information in regards to the “film” starring Simone Dekalb and TJ Jackson, as directed by Taj Jackson, began to slowly shape and take form.

So many texts, phone calls and emails were lobbied back and forth between the trio,, it was close to impossible to keep track of it all.

Taj, in particular, had been frightfully meticulous, with his vision towards the exploit focused almost entirely on Simone with TJ as nothing more than an afterthought.

A flood of correspondence had been unleashed on her, with him detailing that he'd gone to the trouble of making the entire “set” blue, for the sole purpose of bringing out her eyes and that he insisted her outfit for filming, however briefly it was worn, be a contrasting color to the blue.

To an extent, Simone knew she was being exploited.

While her looks were of chief concern and the only thing mentioned in a rabble of texts from Taj, more technical constructs, things to do with the set, if music was wanted, the very location of the studio, were all sent to TJ's devices.

She knew she was being exploited, and it had begun the moment Taj laid hands on her in the empty theatre after the showing 'of The Mystic'.

Perhaps it had started before then. As Simone had wracked her brain a few sleepless nights, she recalled the sparse handful of times she'd been in Taj Jackson's company.

And with each recollection, it came to her that Taj, while he'd kept his polite distance, had been looking at her. Always looking at her, staring at her, watching.

At his father's birthday barbecue two years earlier, he'd been staring from the buffet, as he gnawed on a sticky rib; at Christmas the year before, he'd leered over the rim of a cup of eggnog; at the New Year's gathering, he'd laid in a hammock staring.

Had this been Taj's intention all along... to get somewhere near intimate with her, though she belonged, part and parcel to TJ?

Even though it were wrong, a version of cheating if one squinted hard enough at it, Simone was quite thrilled.

Superficial as it may have been, she did get a kick out of the notion that she was attractive and desirable to not only one handsome man, but two.

It seemed the week had passed too quickly for Simone.

A week of details and instruction and demand, geared at her appearance if little else.

A week in which she had to prepare herself, get her nerve up, as she lacked any true idea of what she was supposed to do before the camera's lens, only that she look pretty.

A week gone with no chance of turning back...

...and those were the thoughts pulsing through Simone Dekalb's bothered mind as she sat alone, in the passenger seat of TJ's convertible, eyes huge as she gazed through the windshield.

Staring at the “location” Taj had rented—with his own dime—for the occasion.

Simone wasn't sure if she were even still in Mount Rosalind, so far behind her was the city. So many little unmarked, rural, and tree-lined roads had led to this place.

A nondescript, low, squarish building of grey masonry, no windows to be seen.

Just a large, imposing cube on the far end of a cracked concrete lot, littered with old cigarette butts and a few broken beer bottles.

Aside from the convertible, a pickup truck, presumably Taj's was parked a few yards away.

It was this waiting that had given her mind time to wander, as TJ had shuffled in some fifteen minutes earlier to ensure everything was set up properly with his brother before she was to be summoned.

Bloop!

On the dashboard, her cupcake phone jangled.

“We're ready. Come in. Go to the doors at the end of the hall.”

There it was, the simple, cryptic message.

A small sigh left her; it was time.

Time to do only God knew what!

Slowly, phone still in hand, a clear clutch in the other, filled with makeup for touch ups, Simone slipped from the car, and instantly danced in the below freezing temperatures.

She wore no coat, only a minidress of yellow cashmere, her legs bared from near the top of the thigh to the ankles, yellow and black color-block booties on her feet.

Her hair, teased within an inch of its life—at both men's insistence—swayed and bounced as she made her way, running across the lot, braving the cold, to the heavy steel door marking the entrance.

Once inside, Simone found a bleak and bland corridor, naked and as dreary as the outside.

Also, it was just as cold and she only hoped that TJ and Taj had had the good sense to warm the set!

They'd all freeze to their deaths if the set were as frigid!

At the end of the hall, about two hundred yards away, a pair of more steel doors sat shut.

It was quiet, so eerily quiet, the only sounds to be heard were her footfalls on the linoleum.

And the pounding of her heart.

Eventually, she was faced with the doors.

Off to the side, a small note had been affixed above a teeny red button.

Ring Me.

Her hand went up and she paused.

Hastily she dug through her clutch, bringing up a mirror to check her face one last time.

Her face, done in dramatic, heavily applied neutrals—Taj's suggestion as the lights for the shooting may have washed out a lighter application—browns, bronzes, golds and a touch of black to the eyes, with lashes so conspicuous, they would have been silly on the street.

But practicality had gone out the window.

Morality too.

This was put on, make-believe, fantasy.

Again her hand went up and this time, connected with the bell, with it buzzing dully inside.

As she hovered, several locks clanged and unhooked, the door to the right eventually cracking.

And she was faced with the director himself, Taj Jackson.

He leaned in the doorway, wearing a simple black and grey raglan shirt, the Starship Enterprise emblazoned across his chest and black sweatpants with Converse sneakers.

His face was solemn, his bottom lip twisting as he was nibbling on it, his eyes running from the top of her head down to her feet—stopping a moment at her bosom.

He really did like to look at her bosom and was unashamed to do so.

As they swept back up, he spoke, his voice deep and serious,

“Good morning.”

“Good mor--” She went to return the greeting, but couldn't as Taj leaned into her, plump lips gracing hers.

So close to him, his cologne, which had been a faint whisper on him a week earlier, blared off him today, a loud, sandalwood, interwoven with jasmine and bitter orange.

His eyes pierced hers, one brow raising,

“You ready?”

She could only nod and with Taj's hand on her bicep, strong and warm, she was led through the doors.

The door shut with an echoing clang behind her, locks engaging as he went about securing it, Simone moved from one leg to the other, observing her “set”.

Thankfully the room, quite large, was nice and toasty warm.

It would have been torture to have been nude in an icy environment.

It was bare for the most part, save for the far right corner.

In that corner, a king-sized bed had been erected, draped beautifully in silk sheets, that matched Simone's eye color exactly—Taj had been quite the stickler for that detail—a pink teddy bear propped against the mountain of overstuffed pillows.

Four floodlights lit the bed, and around it, from what she could count, Simone saw that twelve cameras surrounded the perimeter of the bed, four more hanging above it.

Twenty feet from the bed, a console that would have made Captain Kirk green with envy had been overloaded with four computers, and from what she could see, each had the view of four cameras on the screens.

Against the far wall, what appeared to be a snack station had been put up, pots of steaming coffee, dixie cups and several boxes of pastries.

And that was where TJ stood, dunking a bear claw into a cup of java and chomping on it.

His strapping body had been dressed for ease of undress, a simple white tee, black drawstring pants and slip- off shoes.

“Help yourself to something...” Taj's hand was on her back. “There's coffee, a bunch of donuts, some bagels too. I have to get done testing my lights right quick.”

“Okay...”

As Taj dropped to his knees behind one of the lights, Simone crossed the room to TJ, and picked up a Devil's Food donut.

Breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth, making sure not to smear her lipstick, Simone asked, nerves causing the hairs on the back of her neck to raise,

“Did Taj really pay for everything here? All the set and the equipment and stuff?”

Still chewing, TJ bobbed his head, speaking through a mouth of macerated pastry,

“Well, I bought the teddy bear, but for the most part, he did cover everything else.”

Simone glanced at Taj, now going over the bed with a light meter.

“Why?”

The last bite of claw was consumed with TJ shrugging,

“He likes you...I think he's always been kind of attracted to you. I don't blame him, you are a knock out...”

He took hold of her hand, squeezing it warmly, confessing.

“I mean...this whole video thing was my idea, but don't get me wrong. I know he'll be watching...and that he wants to watch.”

Simone smiled up into the angular face beaming down sinfully at her, and couldn't help asking, her voice with a hint of laughter in it.

“And what if he wants to do more than just...watch?”

The golden flecks in his eyes shimmered, brows flexing as he snickered,

“We'll just have to cross that bridge if we get to it.”

Her heart did flutter at the admonition, and the pace quickened, Taj joining them and throwing an arm around her hips.

“We're kind of flying by the seats of our asses right now...” He declared, snatching up a jelly donut and munching on it. “We never really discussed what was going to go down or what was going to happen? Do either of you have some kind of an idea?”

Dark, smoldering eyes darted back and forth.

“No...” TJ shook his head. “I didn't want to discuss it with Simone beforehand. I wanted it to be spontaneous...”

He trailed off, bending and brushing his lips against hers.

“...like how it is in real life.”

Simone's head dipped, cheeks burning, as were other parts of her at the recognition of what was to come so soon.

“Do you need anything?” Taj was picking at the dangling citrine in her earlobe. “I have some stuff in my backpack.

He pointed out the bag hanging onto the lone chair at the console,

“I got lube, a few toys, some cuffs...”

“I don't need anything fancy... trust me.” TJ sneered, and winked at Simone. “Just set it up, and I'll take it from there.”

“Well...” Taj's hand was cupping her buttock. “I want to start with Simone standing in front of the bed, kind of mugging for the camera, you know sexing it up--”

All three laughed.

“--and then TJ you come in and...get to it.”

“Alrighty...” TJ downed the rest of his coffee, tossing the cup in a trash bin, while Taj pushed Simone towards the 'set', by her butt.

Hands wringing in front of her, Simone knew now was the time.

She couldn't turn back....there was no chance of it.

She really was going to do this...

Neither man could see it as she was faced away from them, but Simone was smiling from ear to ear.

“...look down first....then slowly up to the camera. Take your time...we got all day. Take all the time you need...” Taj called from where manned the console, TJ lingering behind him, both staring at the screens, all of which focused on Simone from every conceivable angle.

“Play it innocent. Play it innocent!”

Following the instruction, Simone, in front of the camera positioned just off the center of the foot of the bed, stared down at her feet, lashes fluttering, eyes gliding up until she stared off into the camera.

“That's a good shot...that's money right there!” She heard Taj gasp. “She's so pretty!”

“Hey Bro...” Simone heard TJ start but not the rest as his voice dropped to a whisper, with him stooping and talking into his brother's ear.

“Yeah, that's fine. Go ahead!”

Standing once more, off camera, TJ grabbed the dangling hem of his tee and pulled it off over his head,

casting it aside, revealing his toned and sculpted torso.

The clearly defined pectorals and abdomen, his 'innie' belly button, the muscular arms, a few veins standing off them, all shimmering dully with the cocoa butter he applied to keep himself supple every day—especially in the harsher, colder weather.

Simone watched silently, a self-assured smirk on her face, as TJ approached her, Taj reminding them,

“Just pretend I'm not here!”

“I intend to!”

Entering the scene, TJ pecked her cheek, ever so gently, slipping behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her.

His lips, warm, moist and tender, were planted in the crook connecting her throat and shoulder.

“Hmmm...” Simone's eyes shut, happily, her body growing yet hotter, as TJ laid little kisses here and there, along her shoulder, pulling on the yellow fabric and stretching it away from her pristine brown body.

He was bumping against her, hands coming up to fondle her bosom through the woven cashmere, an obvious and demanding protrusion felt between them.

Her hands went back, and up into his unruly curls, his hands on her hips, with Simone bending back slightly, the two kissing, tongues flaying and playing against one another.

His mouth was so sweet, partially from the bear claw, and Simone savored it, smelling his manliness as it overpowered his cologne, his hands so large and deft, gliding over her curves, pressing on her.

Slowly, somehow, someway, the dress slipped from her body, leaving her standing there in only her shoes, heart shaped piercings and a barely perceptible thong, of matching yellow mesh to “cover” her bits and pieces.

The thong itself added a bit of whimsy, its front made to resemble a heart, mimicking the white gold decorating her proud, firm globes.

Simone was lost in him, his hands slipping and sliding over her womanly proportions, pinching, grabbing and caressing her heated flesh.

Were there cameras there?

Was their every move being recorded?

If she had ever cared, she no longer did, not now.

“Mmmm!”

Their mouths connected again, TJ's hands cradling her bosom, him tasting her and she him.

She was pulled around to face, him, arms wrapping his trim hips as he held onto her plumper ones, mouth sliding along his strong jaw.

A sigh escaped her, those strong hands grasping the thick, supple meat of her buttocks, and she hugged tighter to him, feeling the cheeks being pushed down first then lifted slightly, pulling her up on tip toe in the process.

“I...” TJ groaned into her ear, further fondling her ass. “...I've wanted this for so long, Princessa.”

“I know.” Simone smooched the little upturned tip of his nose. “I know, Baby.”

It had been so long.

Too long.

And the feel of his skin against hers, his breaths puffing into her face, his scent, every single thing about him was driving Simone mad.

She wanted him...had wanted him desperately for quite some time.

Needed him.

Mirroring her lover, Simone's hands forewent TJ's sweatpants and the accompanying underwear, instead contacting the pure, sinewy, robust dermis of his buttocks, causing him to bounce and keen at her touch.

It had been too long.

TJ did posses the greatest ass she'd ever known.

The slip-on shoes came off, kicked out of sight, leaving long feet in glowing white socks.

Following suit, first the drawstring trousers were removed, then red and black dotted boxer briefs.

Simone beamed unashamed, her eyes zeroing in on her lover's groin.

Though she had seen it time and again, TJ's endowment never ceased to leave her breathless.

Everything about his unclothed body left her breathless.

The V-shaped pelvic bone displaying his wares so well they should have been in a museum under protective glass.

Trimmed by a sparse, well-clipped patch of black curls that appeared more as a shadow than actual pubic hair, TJ was saluting her with all of his manly girth, close to a foot in length by itself, pointing upwards, laced here and there, like his strong arms and powerful hands, with more veins, it's paler, pecan-colored surface engorged and visibly throbbing.

Automatically, Simone started to sink to her knees in front of him, her mouth already puckered and ready to receive him.

As illicit an act as it was, Simone did love giving her man the head he deserved.

But it was not to be.

Before her knees could properly hit the cool concrete, TJ placed hands on her biceps and was pulling her back upright.

“I've waited for this moment...for so long....” He murmured, hands sliding up and onto her shoulders.

“I want to please you, Doll-Baby...I want to please you.”

“Then please me...” She purred, bumping her nose to his, both giggling.

Simone allowed herself to be guided up and onto the blue dressed bed.

“Goddamn, all I see is her eyes!” Taj gasped audibly, Simone being nestled against the pillows, hugging the pink bear to her bosom, teeth showing as she beamed up at TJ, his handsome face hovering so closely.

She had heard Taj, but all she could see, aside from the blinding lights, was TJ Jackson.

His splendorous body.

The sienna complexion, darkening as he blushed in the midst of his sexual awakening.

The broad shoulders, the wide thighs, everything about him so enticing.

And the look of stimulation giving his face a slack, sleepy, dreamy cast.

Simone pulled the bear over her face as TJ perched at the very end of the bed, kisses being being planted on the top of her right ankle, just above the top of her two-toned shoe.

“Oh God!” She tittered, partially amused, partially aroused as the smacks started to migrate upwards, along her calf...to her plump thigh, where he did gnaw on the smooth, sweet skin a moment, causing her to scream into the teddy bear.

Finally, finally he reached her hip, where the thin strap of her underwear, if one could classify it as that, set, starting to dig into her rotundness.

White teeth flashed, gripping the yellow elastic, drawing the underwear down, and off of her.

He held onto it a moment,balling the fabric and holding it to his upturned nose, inhaling the scent of her most intimate places, dropping it to the floor once he'd had his fill.

His favorite places.

Simone was nude.

Not just to TJ, but to Taj still manning the controls, the cold eye of the camera taking in every inch of her.

The full, proud breasts, the flat, dimpled belly, the waist nipping in then again flaring at the hips, the long legs, framing that bare triangle.

Herself a perfect study of what the female form ideally should of have been.

Soft, delicate, rounded, plump. Something a man wanted to grab hold of and never let go.

Suddenly TJ was there again, laying beside her, hands cradling her face, outlining it, lips mashing hers wildly.

His hardened manhood banging against her leg.

Eyes dancing as he hugged closer to her, his right hand lifted, fingertips on her lips.

“Come on...” He urged, his index and middle fingers pressing forth and into her mouth.

“Come on, girl, you know what I'm about to do....”

Obediently, Simone sucked on his digits, eyes locked with his.

There was a low whir as one of the cameras zoomed in.

Where and on what, neither knew, nor cared.

TJ's fingers were sugary; had he dragged them over all the donuts?

The taste further enticed Simone.

“Yes...you always could suck so good...yes girl... you know...” He repeated, drawing his fingers back out.

Lips touched hers with a smack.

His hand began to drift southward.

“Ah!” Simone's entire body arched, raising off the silk bedding, TJ's long fingers slipping over her triangle, over the little swollen bud that was her clitoris and directly into her awaiting, moist slit.

“TJ!”

“I know....I know...” He mumbled, face tilting, brushing against her cheek and shoulder.

Slowly, methodically, and rhythmically, the fingers began to slip back and forth into Simone, a second arching resulting in her muscles tightening around his fingers, heightening her pleasure all the more.

“You like when I do that to you, don't you? Don't you Simone?” He questioned and received only a fervent nodding of the head.

“Holy shit...” Taj was hardly heard over Simone's own heavy breathing, her legs opening further for the flying fingers, and the camera positioned at the center foot of the bed was getting a bird's eye view of her pussy head on.

Both he and his lens were looking directly into her, seeing the tender pinkness fanned by the deeper, richer brown of the outer flaps of her vagina.

The bed shifted, TJ pushing himself up into a seated position, to better focus on playing in the treasure box.

His free arm went lightly over her belly and down to her legs, making a wedge underneath the knees, fully exposing her lower regions, and leaving them open to anything he may have wanted to do.

And he intended to.

Simone made a flailing grasp at his toned back, her hand merely sliding over the skin as opposed to grabbing.

He was bending forward. Coming closer and closer to that little ripened bud, jiggling above where his fingers continued to slide.

And for the first time since they had sparked up, TJ seemed to remember that his every move was being documented.

His head raised slightly, with him staring boldly off into the camera nearest him, a touch of a grin on his lips,with them rounding into a pucker again.

A crystal, glistening tear drop of saliva appeared where it dangled, precariously, for just a second.

Simone screamed into the bear as the drop fell, colliding with the little bud...

...TJ's mouth landing right after it.

“TJ! What are you—oh God! Oh God! TJ! TJ! No! OH!”

The pink bear took flight, being pitched out of frame and narrowly avoiding hitting Taj in the head.

He probably wouldn't have notice, had a real bear landed on him, he was so focused on the acts taking place on his four screens.

Simone reared again, hair falling into and obscuring her pretty face, with her squinching it up, holding onto her pierced melons, her eyes blue slits as she peered down over her her body at TJ.

Hardly able to make sense of what he was doing to her.

His back still to her, he hunched over her right thigh, head bobbing as he was getting deeper and deeper into her, tasting her, savoring her.

Slurping.

Those fingers still moving in and out, in and out.

Fingers and tongue swirling, plunging, suckling.

Driving Simone to the brink the the bed behind him.

“TJ! TJ! Stop! Please! TJ! Damn you! TJ!!!!!”

She began to shake, and quiver, trying vainly to push her legs down, in an effort for some reprieve.

He was too strong.

She had to get away from him.

She had to...before it was too late.

“TJ! TJ—please! Stop it! Stop! TJ! STOP!” She pleaded at the ceiling and walls, unable to move.

Watching that head go up and down between her legs.

Her cries only served to encourage TJ, and defiantly, he went after her with much more vigor and zest, movements quickening.

Did he come up for air?

Did he require air?

What was air?

All there was to him was the steaming, hot puss his face was pressed into and he didn't want to stop.

“TJ!”

His jaw cracked, his mouth was now open so widely over her.

She never knew how he loved it, to hear her scream, to feel her start to give in, her veneer chipping and cracking away, leaving behind only a delirious, devilish woman in the throes of wanton, lusty rapture.

“Ah! TJ! Ah! Ah! Stop! Baby—Baby, please! Why won't you stop! TJ!”

It may not have appeared so, but TJ was listening to Simone.

Accurately listening to her, and awaiting the cue that he had been working so earnestly towards.

She always did scream the same way. It may not have been the exact same phrases, but she did scream.

He loved making her scream.

And when her voice hit a certain decibel, he knew it was time....

“GODDAMN IT, TITO JOE!”

Eyes that had been shut in determination, popped open.

And he jerked his head back in time for a torrent of liquid to come sailing from between her legs, shrill scream rocking the rafters.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!”

A few feet away, Taj, caught off guard by the spectacle, completely overturned his chair, spilling out onto the floor in a heap of arms and legs, grunting as his cheek met the concrete,

“Fuck me all over, she squirts!”

Rising from the bed, where Simone continued to quiver in the aftershocks of such a reaction, TJ smirked, running a hand over his curls, teasing,

“You wet, Doll-Baby?”

Eyes, shut, bosom trembling, Simone countered through grit teeth,

“What in the hell do you think?”

“I think...” He plucked her nipple. “....I think we still have a ways to go...”

In the background, Taj was picking his ass up off the floor and righting his chair, hand to his chest, and one to his bruised cheek, trying to collect himself.

Blue eyes opened and first met the golden-flecked ones, moving down to the base of his torso.

Where his hand was wrapped around his shaft; his thumb mashing after the purplish tip of it.

Brows flexed as nostrils flared with his head falling back.

“I...I had wanted for you to blow me a little...” He confided, voice losing octaves, “...but I don't think I can do that. I think I'll explode all over that pretty face of yours if I even tried to put this cannon near you mouth, Simone...”

Releasing himself, he quite easily, picked her up, holding her warm lithe body in his arms.

“I need...” He hesitated, adjusting his hold on her, Simone putting her arms around his neck, lips pressing his earlobe, causing his heart rate to spike.

“I need to fuck you, Baby. I need to fuck you now. I've waited too long. I need it, now....”

His knees almost buckled beneath him when that soft, cultured, lofty voice told him,

“Then fuck me, Tito Joe.”

Deftly, quickly, TJ had laid Simone at the opposite end of the bed, fanning her tresses out around her.

His bottom lip sucked in as he observed her.

All the treasures that were his.

And he started to climb up onto the bed...

“Oooooh! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ugh! Ugh! Oh God! Ooooooh!”

“Yes, Baby....Yes...Yes... feel so good to me. Shit....Yes...!”

It was difficult to say where Simone ended and TJ began, the two were so intertwined and tangled with one another on that bed.

Arms wrapped each other, along with Simone's legs, circling TJ's waist, crossed at the ankle, one hand on the back of his neck, her cheek pressed to her.

Feeling the entire length and width of him plunging in and out of her, his hips flapping so hard, a moist, clapping sound was produced with each stroke.

Perspiration dripping off of each and mixing as was not only their bodies but their souls.

“So tight....so goddamn tight....” TJ was huffing into her ear, cradling her head against his,

“You're so damn perfect!”

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Fuck me....fuck me...fuck me....Ugh—AH!”

Simone fell back against the sheets, TJ's thrusts slowing, with him starting to sit up, still connected to her.

“I....I gotta stop...I gotta stop...” He groaned suddenly, hands going up into his hair, mussing his curls, chest expanding as he inhaled deeply.

“Why?” Simone demanded breathlessly, raking her nails over his bare abdomen.

Eyes bulged out his head and he replied, voice going up shrilly,

“I'm too excited. I keep on, I'll bust it right away and I don't want to. I want to take my time. Make last as long as possible.”

He cupped her chin with his hand, leaning for a smooch.

“You always do this—TJ!” Simone lamented, with him slipping from her and climbing from the bed.

“And you always end up clawing my back bloody after an intermission.” TJ winked, leaving Simone to scowl as he sauntered, hands on hips out of the light and was masked by shadows.

Simone couldn't argue...TJ was right. His habit of breaking up the madness for a few minutes always did result in some of the best sex of their lives when they met back up.

Still...

Simone, scoffed, sitting up herself and running a hand through her hair, scornfully.

...she hated to be made to wait.

Flipping her hair over her shoulders, she questioned,

“Are you still filming, Taj?”

When met with no response, Simone spun on her bare backside towards the control panel, squinting through the blinding lights.

Taj sat upright his his chair, but is eyes were shut, mouth slightly agape showing his two front teeth, his nostrils billowing and contracting.

“Taj--” She repeated, and stopped, her line of vision falling from his face, and several inches lower.

Underneath the table, she could make out a bulge in his sweatpants, moving up and down.

It took a moment for it to connect to her...that he was masturbating.

Stunned, Simone sat a minute, watching him, as he had been her.

Feeling something close to pride...the same feeling that had needled her a week earlier when he'd put his hands on her. Kissed her.

Was he really jacking off....to her?

Had there been any inhibitions?

Any inhibitions Simone might have had, were left at the door when she had entered that den of depravity.

And she stood, in all of her nakedness, staring off at Taj, lost in his own corruption.

A quick glance found TJ bracing against the far wall, muscles of his ass rippling like waves in the ocean as he moved from one leg to the next, trying to calm himself.

She looked back to Taj. His right hand was still going at it in his trousers, his head tilted forward, the left holding his forehead, as he tried to go unnoticed.

Simone was drawn to him.

Tossing her hair, she moved from the set and was crossing the cool concrete floor to Taj.

She stood alongside him a moment, the screens showing the sixteen cameras rolling on the vacant bed, staring down at him, her mind grappling for something witty to say.

When it came to her, she bent, putting her lips close to his ear,

“Tell me, Mr. Director, do you make cameos in your pictures like Alfred Hitchcock?”

As the head came up in astonishment, eyes saucer-like, mouth further opening, Simone couldn't help adding with a snort,

“Or is it Alfred 'Hard-Cock'?”

The eyes, bearing the same dreamy cast TJ's had contained, took in the alluring, attractive body of Simone Dekalb, returning to the cornflower orbs shining at him and brimming with disbelief, Taj put a hand to his chest, voice cracking with his inquiry,

“You mean...you want to...”

He never finished his statement, a small, warm hand taking his, and Simone was pulling him to his feet.

“I know you're not being shy now...not with the way you cut up last week.” She chuckled, putting his hand to her mouth and kissing at the knuckles.

“You liked that, didn't you?” Taj murmured, the fabric over his groin straining to hold him, the entire outline of his penis and even his testicles visible through it.

“Yes...” His chubby cheek was pinched. “And I want to see what else you can do too. You and your little brother are too much alike—get a girl all excited and then leave her hanging.”

Simone winced as Taj laid a hand on her shoulder, crushing it.

His face came close to hers, eyes penetrating ferociously, as he corrected her.

“Once I start....I don't need to take a break. No matter how excited I get.”

Clothes commenced to flying and in only seconds, Taj stood in his birthday suit, hands clasped behind, allowing Simone to see him fully.

His paler flesh, this rounder, more generous body, that cock, just as large and veiny, cloaked with a bit more hair, some of which spread out onto his thighs.

He brushed past her, going to the bed, his buttocks, showing freckles on the right cheek, swaying and pulsating as he moved.

Taj was wasting no time with foreplay—had he had his foreplay the week earlier?

His hand was up, fingers motioning she follow him and gamely, Simone did.

Instead of climbing into the bed, Taj stood at one of the shorter sides, pointing to the bed in front of him.

As she took to the bed, he loomed in her ear,

“I want to get all over you...”

Positioned on her hands and knees in front of him, the mattress holding their private areas level, it heas her turn to keen, feeling his hand, fingertips warm and rough, feeling around, locating that inviting, little hole.

“That ass... that sweet, sweet ass...” He intoned, hands coming up on each cheek, spreading them and letting them bounce back into place, watching the roundness.

His weight was suddenly on her back, and the full extent of him was rushing into her.

“UGH!”

“Damn it!”

Simone collapsed almost immediately, Taj's hands on her hips for leverage began plugging away at her so harshly, so savagely, those two words were all she could manage.

With her down, Taj's hand automatically clasped the back of it, his entire body thrown into motion, as he relentlessly went after her.

“UGH! Hell! Yeah...Yeah....Yeah! That's what I wanted. That's what I've been wanting. To tear you up...” He growled but was drowned out by TJ crying somewhere,

“You're fucking my girlfriend?”

“Well...” Taj grunted, his stride never breaking, “I ain't knitting her a sweater!”

“Ah! Ah! Taj! Ah! Ah! God! Ah! Ah!”

“Listen at her....” Simone heard him gloat over her own cries of passion. “She likes what I'm doing!”

“I know your big-eared ass heard how I had her going earlier!” TJ argued, Taj, grip on Simone leaving her neck, both of his hands finding their way onto her shoulders.

“TAJ!”

“Yeah, I got her going now!” Taj sneered, throwing his head back, palm whacking the booty, and abruptly pulling at Simone, as the feeling becoming too much to bear, was trying to crawl away.

“She wanted this cock; she got it now!”

Simone was thrust forward into the mattress, thrown by Taj's hand, her bearings barely caught, before she was being yanked back by her hair, Taj pulling her to her feet between the two of them.

“Who you wanna fuck? Me or him?” Taj challenged point blank. “Because I'm steadily burning up film in my cameras and I'm burning up my damn self.”

“She's fucking me.” TJ asserted with a haughty toss of his head.

“My balls been in knots for two weeks. I'm getting it...”

He waited for no reply, instead, throwing himself into a arc, landed on his back on the bed, a couple of pillows falling to the floor mattress creaking,

Index fingers wiggled, the devil in him exposed, TJ pointing out his massive meat, showing he wanted to be ridden like the stallion he was.

Simone started for him, but was halted by Taj stepping between her and the bed.

His lips came close to her earlobe, with him warning,

“You may belong to him, but its going to be me you remember...”

His mouth was warm on hers and she halfway danced, his fingers touching the triangle aat the base of her torso.

“Get yo big ass out my face! I'll have seven years of bad luck staring at that thing!” Taj stumbled, TJ giving him a shove to the back and drawing a hateful glare from his sibling.

“Come on, Simone!”

* * *

“Aaaaargh! Oh! Oh! Yeah! That's it! That's the spot! Get it! Get it! Aaaaargh!”

TJ screamed into Simone's moist bosom, rocking and jiggling against his face, her lovely, curvaceous form bouncing up and down on his pole, each pass drawing him closer and closer to erotic bliss.

His eyes were shut, beads of sweat flowing from his forehead and down his face, breaths heaving in an unbreaking rhythm that mimicked that of Lamaze.

His hands were full, mashing into Simone's buttocks, flesh spilling between the fingers, guiding her up and down on him.

Simone, though her breathing was hard and labored, produced no sound, so into this lewd act was she.

Her hands clutched the top of the padded headboard, steadying herself, her head thrown back, hair starting to cloak and stick to her as she perspired.

Off to the side, out of the camera's view, Taj had paced for ten solid minutes, intermittently tugging at himself, mouth twisted in thought as he watched the couple, Simone in particular, mind burning through scenarios of what he wanted to do to her.

Fucking had been fun. She had been so warm, so tight, so inviting....

The touch of her the smell of her, the noises she had made.

But...there was so much more he could do with her, if she were willing.

He glanced at his devices still rolling.

He did so love to have shock value in his pictures.

And he did so love to get his rocks off in front of them, whenever possible.

Without a word, Taj entered the scene at the bedside, staring down that body.

Watching it swish and sway.

Looked to the beautiful face, reddened, contorted, still so intricately painted in.

And that sparkly, little glossy mouth.

Those pouted lips curling around the white teeth with each thrust.

He'd been fixated on her mouth since she'd come in that morning.

Taj didn't know much about makeup, outside of special effects makeup to used transform mortals into monsters, but he did like how that peachy-gold gloss was speaking to every inch of him.

Especially the foot or so pointing at his navel.

“Ugh! Ugh! Yes Baby! Oh God! Yes!” TJ was moaning as Taj, effortlessly reached up and grabbed hold of one of the beans holding the cameras over the bed, and with one quick pull hand pulled himself bodily onto the bed, so that he stood next to Simone as she continued to flop.

“Pretty Girl....Pretty Baby...” Taj cooed, hand on her cheek, turning her head towards his furry crotch, other hand guiding his meat towards her mouth.

For an instant there was a look of confusion in those blue eyes, as she had almost forgotten Taj was there, she'd been so consumed by TJ.

Those haunting blue eyes that sent chills up and down Taj's spine each time they focused on him.

More chills lit him as she took the length and width of him, her mouth so warm and delicate.

“Aw, shit!”

Taj's face quickly crumpled, his head falling forward and he regarded her through narrowed eyes.

He wanted to look at her. He wanted to see her.

Int he meantime, Simone's body, as much as she had been trying to hold off and hold on, was starting to fail her.

Succumb to everything happening around her.

How could it not, with a double dose of dick pounding away at her?

TJ was stroking her so deeply and wonderfully...he always did and that was half the reason she put him off until the last second; he lost his mind when afforded access to her.

It drove him crazy, but the things he did to her, drove her crazy too.

And now, as she suckled Taj, looking up at him, to see him watching her so calmly his little pooch of a belly rippling, his breaths staggered, she was also pleasuring in his body.

His warmth, his overpowering scent, the mildly salty flavor of his dermis.

He was just as large as TJ, with less veins popping out of his cock.

There was something a touch unnerving in how Taj stared, not really reacting to what she was doing.

So unlike his brother, who was screeching and caterwauling into her tits.

He held onto the beam with one hand the other stroking and pinching her cheek as the fluffed and caved as she kept on nursing at him.

“Girl! Yes! Yes! Simone! Grind on me. Grind it out! Grind it out! Hell! Yes!”

Pressing down, against TJ's hands, Simone ceased allowing him to lift and plunge into her, instead, she sat on him, rocking her hips.

“GIRL!”

TJ screamed, followed by a stint of Spanish, which she didn't understand, but knew came from a happy and loving place.

And then, at once, the sensation Simone had been trying to hold at bay could no longer be ignored.

Pulling her mouth from Taj, her hands dropped from the headboard to the broad sweaty shoulders of her steady, his face maroon with exertion, her cheek pressing hers and she confided with a whimper,

“I'm gonna come--”

No sooner had the words, breathless and strained popped from those glimmery lips, than a hot rush, more intense than before came spurting around TJ, who quickly threw himself as into her as far as he could, his arms wrapping her hips to her hold her in place, and forcing her to flow all over him.

“Yes Baby...you do that...get it all out. That's what I wanted...get it all over me...Princessa...”

The two laid still, clinging to one another, breaths slowing and returning to normal.

Hugging her, hand going through her mussed tresses, Simone heard TJ grunt “what”, but not to her.

Tersely, TJ slipped Simone from himself, still quite erect and engorged, leaving her resting on her haunches, as he took Taj's hand extended to him, pulling him so that he stood on the other side of th bed, hanging onto the beam.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Simone giggled nastily when she realized what it was the brothers wanted from her.

In each manicured hand, Simone took a skin flute and took to blowing alternately.

“Yeah...yeah....that's what I'm talking about...” Taj growled, his pearly whites grit, as he squeezed after his little swollen ballsack. “...motherfucker, how can you suck like that?”

“She's so good—ooooh!” TJ's eyes rolled in his head as the attention was turned to him, Taj rubbing the length of his shaft rapidly,

“Who the hell you telling—Simone!” Taj cried abruptly, hand coming down pulling her from TJ.

The cherry red tip of his dick came dangerously close to her lips. A soft squeaking noise he was pulling himself so hard.

“Do you spit or swallow?” He growled, his entire body growing red, his curls sticking everywhere on top of his head.

A blue eye winked,

“Anything you want, Chubby Cheeks--”

“OPEN!”

Taj shrieked, sweat streaming down his cheeks, and below the tip the lips parted, tongue sticking out.

“AAAAAAHHHHH! SHIT! OH! OH! UGH! FUCK! UUUUUUGH!!!!!”

He grunted an explosion of white bursting from the tip and shooting off into her mouth.

The seedy deposit was swiftly ingested, Simone smiling up at him, pausing to kiss the mushroom head top, as Taj wheezed, dropping to his knees, holding her face in his hands, consuming her mouth with his, tasting the stray bits of himself on her lips.

“I think I love you!” He laughed drunkenly, embracing her.

“Princessa!” TJ called suddenly.

Taj's hands on her face, Simone's head was turned to the other, deeper colored tip, extended to her, TJ's arm flapping wildly, her tongue again outstretched.

“Here it comes! Here it comes! Yes! Yes! Yes!--”

In several splashes instead of one full blast, TJ ejaculated into the awaiting orifice and with legs reduced to jelly, he collapsed to the bed.

“My God,” He gasped, hurriedly kissing her. “That was fantastic! Oh God, you're damn good, Simone!”

“She's perfect...” Taj bent her head back for another smoldering smooch.

“She is perfect...” TJ agreed, pulling her back to him for another peck.

Pinching the cheeks of both men—but not on their faces—Simone rounded out the schmooze-fest,

“You two are perfect, too!”

Snuggling together, all three chuckled, reclining on the pillows and eventually dozing off, the cameras still running.

Two Days Later

In the far corner of the small bistro, with snowflakes kissing the window that looked out over the whitened lane, Simone sat, lingering over a steaming latte, her mind racing.

As it was nearly noon, the spot was full and bustling with people, but she paid them no mind, her eyes on only two across the room, at the counter.

TJ and Taj, still bundled in heavy down coats and scarves, a New York Knicks cap on Taj's head, the pair were collecting their own drinks and artisan-made sandwiches on trays, and starting to make their way back to her.

In a room full of leering eyes, the trio were inconspicuous, both greeting her with soft pecks on either cheek, seating themselves at the small, intimate table.

“Turkey with bacon and guacamole...on white.” TJ announced sliding the sandwich in front of her but it remained untouched.

In fact, it went unseen, as the blue eyes stayed fixated on Taj's round face, as he lifted his egg salad on wheat to his mouth a yellowish blob falling out the back end of his sandwich as he chewed.

Picking tomatoes off his ham and cheddar, TJ alerted him,

“She's waiting, man.”

“Oh!” Taj chuckled almost as an after thought, putting his food down and reaching into his jacket, coming up with a slim, square hard plastic case.

In his careful script, all that was written on the front of it as with the dvd inside was,

“35MM?” Simone read, a brow going up. “Why did you title it that?”

straight brows raised as Taj helped himself to another bite, with him chortling,

“That's the type of film I used to tape the whole thing. I couldn't very well call it Jackson Brothers Bone Dekalb Girl, now could I?”

Snatching it, Simone winked,

“You could have!”

TJ's mouth was on her ear,

“We can call it that....next time.”

Simone smiled first at him, TJ beaming widely, then over at Taj, staring, the teeniest of curls to his pouty lips.

Yes, they would call it that.

Next time.