Yoko lay shivering in the bed, curled loosely into a ball. At some point she had kicked all the covers onto the floor and wormed out of her T-shirt. Darkly amused at first to discover her hand still lounging in her thong and a familiar wetness slicking her fingertips, she soon came fully awake to find herself still without Julian. Had Jacqueline found another bed for the night? The thought itself slapped her so hard that she blinked. Was she really that revolting to the other female? Depressing thought, that. Hearing the shower, she desperately hoped it was Julian. Perhaps he had only risen before her. Hurrying out of bed and into back into her shirt, she knocked on the door.
"Julian?"
Norihiko smiled hearing her voice, but regretted the responsibility of breaking the news.
"No, Sweetie. It's just me."
Sagging against the door, Yoko sighed softly and twisted the handle, spilling herself into the room. As she had expected it, she easily caught herself and closed the door behind her. After turning the lock, she slid out of her clothes and into the shower with Nori.
Not giving it a second thought, the boy offered her the soap and pulled down a fresh washcloth to drop on top of it.
The twins showered in silence, stepping around each other to share the spray as necessary, sometimes helping reach this spot or that. Comfortable with each other, they also brushed their teeth while standing nude, shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink. Mouths were rinsed in unison and they stood looking at each other, comparing similarities and differences. The obvious differences were the ones that spoke for what sex each was. Yoko's small breasts where quite prominent when placed beside her brother's tight chest and their genitalia, especially as each was shaven, could leave no doubt as to who was who. Without clothing they were as different as night and day, but with Yoko's new pixi-'do and Norihiko's matching one, they would be a dead ringer for the same person when dressed in the same clothing. Breasts were easy enough to hide and their father had trained them to carefully remain the same weight as they were already the same height. How Jack Maxwell adored his two little "China Dolls".
Often, they even moved the same way, wore the same expressions at the same time, and Nori had no problem making his voice as soft as Yoko's. Though Yoko had gotten a bit gaunter, they decided that they'd still do for a match on one another.
At this point, Norihiko gathered her close in a hug and muttered through kissing her shoulder "Let's get dressed." Letting her go slowly, so she'd feel his warmth leaving her, he turned back into his rooms and went to open his trunks.
Yoko didn't allow herself a smile, though she felt it. There would be precious few of them from now on. Emotional outbursts like that wouldn't do for the life they had ahead of them. Popping back into the rooms she was sharing with J&J to gather up her frowsy cotton clothing, she dumped the lot into the bathroom trash after gathering her things from the pockets to stick in her steamer trunk. The same was done with Nori's, then she went to stand with him over their trunks and debate about what to wear.
After some deliberation and a little aid from each other, they were dressed and groomed. By habit as much as preference, the twins chose clothing that would compliment the other's ensemble and suit their collective mood. Both of them had used a minimal amount of gel to make their hair sleeker and pull it into soft points that framed their faces. Each had outlined their eyes in a style closely equated with that of ancient Egyptian pharaohs and had their longish fingernails painted black, but that's where the direct similarities ended.
Yoko was outfitted in startling green PVC combat boots that rose all the way up her leg to mid thigh with buckles at one inch intervals to cinch them skin-tight around her pale flesh. The dress she wore was black and seemed to be nothing more than a tube of PVC that covered her from just above the nipple to just below the danger zone of being able to see all that God gave her. So tight that her nipples were forced into startlingly erect prominence, the dip of her navel was visible, and the line of her spine down to the cleft of her tight rump could be traced with the eye, the dress would definately give away more than a quick peek of flesh if she bent over and the lack of a panty line proved she had nothing on beneath it. The cross that bound her to Julian was again looped around her too-slender waist by its chain and bumped comfortingly against her thigh when she walked. While Norihiko finished dressing, she
dabbed on some gorgeously red lipstick and brushed some mascara over her lashes. Great skin and the interesting eye shape of Japanese-Americans required little else. For the first time in awhile, she could take heart in that little vanity of hers.
Norihiko was wearing black combat boots and baggy black leather bondage pants with hot green straps criss-crossing in strategic places to remind one of Yoko's boots. Judging by the placement of the many rings, buckles, zippers, etc. on his pants, these were the "real deal, not just some wannabe gear bought at a cheap fetish shop. The fishnet top he wore "covered" him from hips to throat to fingertips where small loops in the cuffs brought the sleeves to a point over his middle fingers. The top was that same bright green and so was the patent leather kitten collar around his neck (complete with a little silver bell). While he wore this clothing with the ease that any other teenage boy would slip on his jeans, sneakers, and T-shirt, Nori found it amusing that he and his sister either dressed for sex or business, but never for comfort.
Ready for the world and wearing identical aloof expressions, the twins made their way downstairs for breakfast just after 9am with ice in their violet eyes and fire in the sway of their bodies. |
