My Sister's Stand-In

My Sister's Stand-In

Foreword

This is something different for me, getting away from the fetish stuff for a minute. This is a story about people. People have flaws and weaknesses, and sometimes they make bad choices. Sometimes though, those bad choices lead to saving graces. This is a story about one of those times. If stories about adultery disturb or offend you, you may not want to continue, but you might like the message at the end.

It's a long one, and it takes a while to get to the sex, but I hope you like it anyway. If not, just skip to the sex. Please note: Although the story begins when the characters are minors, absolutely nothing sexual occurs until those characters are over eighteen.

I'm Stefania. My older brother was Vinny, and my big sister was Gina. Mom and Dad did very well and sent us to a fancy private school, which was good for us. We all made good friends and got a good education. After school, we used to wait at the mouth of the west gate for our mom to pick us up. One day, a great big boy sat on the wall and waited for his mom too. He was in Gina's grade.

He did not come from money. He was not a good student. He was kind of a lovable loser, always getting in over his head or getting caught in trouble. He was chubby and wore glasses like Gina and I, but not well because they shrank his beautiful blue eyes. My little girl's heart did not care about some chub or how he wore glasses. He was a big, happy, smiling teddy bear of a boy who would surprise you with his cunning wit, hidden wisdom, and kindness. I was utterly smitten with him. Just one problem - well, aside from him being four grades my senior - and that was the girl

he

was utterly smitten with, my sister Gina.

Mom would drive the Volvo up to the gate and we'd hop off the wall and wave goodbye to the apple of my eye. After years of always being together there after school, we all got to know and like him, even my idiot brother, and especially Mom.

"Hi, Mrs. Bertolli," he'd always smile. He was honest too, not just being nice. He was just the kind of guy who was always happy to say hi.

"Hi, Marc," Mom would always smile back.

One day, at the end of summer, we piled into the car and she lingered her gaze on Marc as we clicked on our seatbelts. She pulled the car away, asking Gina, "Isn't he in your class."

"Yes," she answered. "We have math class together."

"He's a nice boy," Mom said, letting the statement hang there for several excruciating moments while I grit my teeth in the backseat next to Vinny.

Gina looked at my mother, Mom looked back with a grin that spoke volumes.

Gina chuckled, "Mom, no. No way. Not him. He's a nice guy to know, but that's all."

Mom shrugged. "Hey, I'm not saying to marry the guy..."

"Oh my god, Mom. We are not discussing this," Gina protested, raising her voice.

"Fine. Fine," Mom replied, still smirking a bit. "It's just you've got the eighth-grade dance coming up. It might be nice to dance with a nice boy."

Gina shrugged, cavalierly sighing, "Yeah, sure. Maybe."

I didn't speak to anyone for the rest of the evening.

***

When Gina came home from the dance a couple weeks later, she came to our shared bedroom after my bedtime. I, of course, sprang out of bed, asking, "Hey, how was it?"

Gina shrugged like she usually did. "It was nice, I guess. It took three songs before any boys stepped onto the dance floor, but we were having fun dancing with each other. Me, Jen, and Maggie had a good time doing our thing."

"Who got asked to dance?" I inquired.

Gina rolled her eyes, answering, "Well, of course that was Lindsay Covington."

"The one with the big boobs?" I asked, fairly sure I had the right one pegged.

Gina answered, "Boys love boobs. They can't help it, I guess. Annie Scott got next. Then, like, six girls got asked in all." She smiled a little and I got a chill.

"Including me."

I knew the answer before I asked, but my broken little heart had to confirm. "Who?"

"Marc, from the wall after school."

No. Not that. My worst fears were coming true.

Gina stood up on her tiptoes to put her dress away on a high shelf. She was getting taller. She was skinny, but starting to take shape. I always thought she was beautiful. I look a lot like her, and I prayed that wouldn't change. Gina was amazing to me. She was beautiful, smart, and quite nice as far as big sisters go. She turned off the lamp and got into her bed.

"It was sweet," she continued. "Jen left to say something to Sharon, and Maggie was asked to dance, which left me standing alone. I looked up and there he was. He looked so nervous. He was dressed like an idiot. The theme was Miami Nights so everyone was in high fashion couture, like you were going to a club in Miami. Marc misunderstood and showed up in a Hawaiian shirt with khaki shorts and got berated by Mrs. Anghelina for ruining the aesthetic. Typical Marc move, you know."

I felt awful for him. "He's poor! He's never been to anywhere fashionable." I still laughed though. What a goof.

"He stood there looking pale and sweaty," she continued, "And put his hand out to escort me to the dance floor like they do in old movies. I felt bad for laughing at him when he did that, so I danced with him. We danced for three songs, actually. He loosened up halfway through the first and starting making jokes about everyone there and about himself dressing wrong and everything. He's funny and I laughed so much my ribs hurt. Anyway, it was nice."

The way she said it:

nice

. It wasn't her usual tone, and I could tell she was smiling widely. I was glad the room was dark so she couldn't see the tears in my eyes.

***

We took a vacation to the Amalfi Coast after school ended. My sister changed a lot that summer. Still flat-chested, but her long, lean frame turned curvier. She got a new haircut: a bouncy, shoulder-length cut that showed off her long curls. She was more beautiful than ever. The Italian boys noticed. She was getting hit on everywhere we went. She flirted back too. I was proud of her; she did it well. She was becoming a woman and it made me feel like a little kid. I cut off my ponytail to try for a new look. My mother lost it on me, but a lady at a salon turned it into a striking, close-cropped style, like a boy's, but more feminine, like something a striking runway model would wear. "It's very sheik," Gina said. It was kind of cool, so I decided to keep it.

That fall, I was going into 5

th

grade, Vinny was going into 7

th

, and Gina was starting high school, but at the end of the school day we were all back on the wall and this new boy walked up. He was tall and kind of built, with broad shoulders and striking blue eyes, and--Oh my god, it was Marc! Gina wasn't the only one who blossomed that summer. His mom got him Lasik as a birthday gift and it changed his entire look. He also got a summer job doing gardening for his cousin's landscaping company. Cupid dropped a bomb on my head standing there, but I always felt comfortable with Marc, so I shouted, "Wow, Marc! You look great!"

"Yo! Lost the glasses finally," Vinny said fist-bumping him. "Looking good, bro."

"Thanks," he said, but his attention was on Gina, and he stared, wide-eyed at my sister.

Gina was a bit stunned too, but hid it better.

"Hey, Marc," she said, trying to hide in plain sight.

"Gina," he replied, "Your hair looks..."

He wasn't looking at her hair goddamnit, he was looking up and down over her entire body.

"...beautiful."

The word came out of him like a breathy, wind of change that turned him inside out to display his beating heart. It was the worst moment of my young life.

"Oh, thanks," Gina replied, not at all as overcome as she should have been, as I would have been. I loved my big sister, but not when it came to Marc.

When Mom picked us up, Marc said something else. "Hey, Steff," I turned to see the big smile was still there, even after he got hunky. "Your hairstyle looks awesome!"

"

Auh-huh-huh-hwaaah...THANKS

!"

Asshole!

I mentally screamed at myself.

Oh, you asshole!

I laughed like a donkey was being kicked to death, then shouted "thanks" in a high-pitched squeal. I ran into the car. Gina didn't notice, but Vinny did and laughed about it the whole ride home. I thought about my Marc all night, hugging my pillow. He liked my hairstyle. Maybe he thought I was beautiful too.

In sophomore year, he and Gina had a study hall together and would hang out. They got much closer, walking to the wall together, laughing about whatever. Gina must have been waiting for him because she always used to arrive with us - at least five minutes before he got there. Not anymore.

Junior year he asked her out for pizza and a movie. She said yes. His mom had to drive him. It was so lame. I was so fucking jealous.

By senior year, they had been boyfriend and girlfriend for a long time with no signs of slowing down. Marc had a car and would come to pick her up for dates. Dad liked him, though he'd never admit it. Marc worked a lot, and Dad liked that. He also used to say, "He looks me in the eye and has a good handshake. That means a lot more than you realize."

When the senior prom came, of course, they went together. That night, Gina got hollered at badly when she tried to sneak in at three-twenty in the morning. Mom and Dad were livid. Gina let them yell it out. She almost got off cleanly until she broke and hollered, "I'm eighteen fucking years old! God, you guys act like I'm a kid!" Gina stormed into the bedroom looking furious muttering, "I fucking hate you both. I'm a goddamned adult, and

blah blah blah

,

teenage drama blah

."

"How was prom?" I asked now fourteen.

"Go to bed," she whispered. "We'll talk in a few hours."

She was odd. She was different. She was smiling right after a huge fight with Mom and Dad. She was giggling to herself. I had never seen her so giddy. And when she took off her dress, I noticed her panties were gone and there was dried blood on her inner thigh.

Oh my God, they...

! Of course they did. What did I expect? And yet, the idea broke my heart once and for all. I cried quiet, bitter tears into my pillow until daybreak.

***

They broke up after graduation. Gina was going to Boston for college; he was going to the Midwest. It sucked. I finally felt bad for all the times I cursed their love to myself.

Gina cried on and off for days. I bet he did too. They didn't want to break up, but they did anyway for practical reasons. Dad didn't like it, but Mom did.

"She's going to

college

," Mom explained. "It's a whole other ballgame and she needs to be open to new experiences without worrying about her boyfriend back home."

"Do you hear what you're saying?" Dad thundered.

Sure enough, when she came home I heard tales of other boys, other men. When we flew out to her graduation she was kissing some guy. It bothered me, oddly enough. I wondered how Marc was, wherever he was. Did he find someone else, or was he still hung up on my sister?

I didn't date in high school. I looked just like Gina until Dad's nose grew in whereas Gina got Mom's. I looked awkward, and I felt awkward. I turned inward, concentrated on my studies and being a nerdy goofball. I joined the school band and the drama club, which was fun, but I didn't do much else. I didn't go to prom. Vinny and I would wait on the wall for Mom to pick us up. The next year, I was waiting alone. The year after, I left the wall for the last time and went to Julliard.

***

"We're getting married," Gina exclaimed.

I sat there in stunned silence. Jesus, what had I missed while away at school?

Gina ran into Marc at some event in the city and they instantly rekindled their romance. My brilliant sister was a lawyer for a major bank. Marc worked for a historical society and was the Assistant Editor for a journal that published academic papers for the

blah blah blah whatever

. It was as if they picked up where they left off, so they only dated six months before getting an apartment together. A few months later, on Christmas, he popped the question, and there we were.

"I want you to be my maid of honor."

I had an apartment in the city with four other girls. Between that, school, and performing off-Broadway, I lost touch with my family a bit. I wasn't aware of Gina and Marc's whirlwind romance. I was glad though. Gina deserved a good guy, and he deserved to have the beauty he always loved, even before she was a beauty.

When he and I met again, I threw my arms around him. He hadn't changed a bit. He was still a big, smiley teddy bear, except bearded and a little dad-bod-ish. He was so cute. I knew right away I still loved him, but now as a grown woman that desire was different. I named a vibrator after him.

Marc and I had become particularly close. We had the same sense of humor and often teamed up to play pranks on the others, especially Vinny. I lived for his big, strong hugs. Sometimes he'd give me a big, wet smooch on my cheek or forehead. I loved it. I had my lovers during those years, but never boyfriends, never love. I didn't need it, I guess. I had my brother-in-law to fill that role with his kind words and gestures, my would-be husband married to my big sister.

They were married five years when Gina dropped a bomb on me.

"I need your help," she said to me. "It's delicate."

She sat across from me in a restaurant I could never afford. She wore her business suit like an archtype, her long curls in a tight bun. Me? I was completely underdressed in my bohemian blouse with colorful stitching around the wide neck and a floral skirt. I kept that short hairstyle from when I cut off my ponytail. It came in handy in a profession where I wore different wigs. Besides, it kind of became my signature. Upon that hairstyle, I wore a fuchsia headband with a large tulle flower. I looked like the paid entertainment in a sea of suits, but no one looked twice. Besides, I was a bit bolder by then than I used to be. Acting on stage or playing my saxophone in a crowded club does that to you. I was a seasoned performer by then.

"What in the world could I possibly do for you, big shot? I thought you had it all."

Bluntly, she said, "I met someone." After a pause, she added, "Please don't glare at me like that. I know."

My expression must have matched my heart. How could she? Poor Marc. I was furious.

"Look...I'm closing in on thirty. Marc and I rushed into marriage a little fast. He's talking about kids now and it's freaking me out a little. I work a lot, and I work hard. Before I sacrifice my success, I want to be sure he's who I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Who is he?" I hissed. My brow furrowed.

She looked down at her empty plate and sighed. "He's a former coworker. Jack. He left the company but kept in touch with me for networking, or so I thought. He's been shamelessly flirting with me for months and I love it. I think about him all the time. He's exciting, he's bold, and he's sexy as fuck. Marc was always charming but never sexy like Jack. Anyway, I want to sleep with him one time. If I can do that, I can know whether Marc was a mistake or Jack is. I know I sound crazy and it's fucking awful of me, but we get one life. I don't want to go through it feeling like I settled for Marc, or I won't be able to love him the way he deserves. I don't want to resent him. I have to know

I

chose

him

too."

I was silent for several moments, sipping my Chardonnay. Finally, I said, "Okay. I guess I get that. I don't agree, I abso-fucking-lutely hate it, but I get it. What do you need me for, and by asking I am not agreeing to help you yet."

She was fidgety and shaking her leg. It was rare to see in her.

"I need you to play a role, Ms. Off-Broadway."

"What role?"

"Me."

She explained her awful plan, and it gave me shivers.

Lately, she had been coming to bed after Marc fell asleep. This was to avoid sex or conversation while her mind was spinning with Jack. She was going to meet him at a hotel and fuck his brains out and see how it makes her feel. All I had to do was be Gina's stand-in.

"You want me to sleep in your marriage bed, beside your husband, and pretend to be you? You want me to be your stand-in while you fuck some guy."

"We have the same body shape, we're the same height..."

"My boobs are bigger," I pointed out nastily, guzzling the rest of my glass and quickly refilling it. "And,

oh yeah

, he knows me. Like, for a long time. It won't work, Gina."

"You'll wear my perfume," she persisted. "You'll wear my silk nightie. He'll be asleep when you get there, so all you have to do is walk in quietly, turn off the lamp, and slide in next to him.

"And what if he decides to fuck me thinking I'm you?"

"I wonder what you would do?" she asked accusingly. I parlayed.

"It wouldn't matter. The minute he figures out what's going on, your marriage is fucked."

She sighed. "It hasn't been a problem lately. He's gotten used to me dodging him. But just to be safe I'll slip a sedative in his dessert. If you wake him, at most, he might mumble a half-coherent 'goodnight' before rolling over. Then enjoy a snooze and I'll be home by 2 am and we'll switch places."

"Sounds like a fucking sitcom," I scoffed. "If he wakes up, he'll know everything. You'll be divorced no matter how you feel, and I'll go through the rest of my life knowing I was complicit in breaking the heart of the man I..."

I caught myself. Fuck. The wine must've gotten to me.

Gina leaned in with a look that blended accusation with loving sympathy. "...The man you love? The man you've loved since he sat next to us on the wall at school pick-up? I know you, Stefania. I've always known you've adored him. Mom thought it was adorable. Christ, even Vinny saw it. Only Marc never saw it for what it was. He still doesn't, but I do."

I felt sick and sheepish. Now, I was the one staring at my plate and shaking.

"It bothers me, honestly," Gina continued. "I always felt like I was taking something from you, even if you had no real claim to him. It hurt my heart to hurt you. I know we never spoke of it, but I want you to know that."

Tears began to run down my red cheeks, threatening to explode into the ugly cry to end all ugly cries.

Gina smiled lovingly. "I know you can't help it and I was never angry about it. He's tough

not

to love."

Choking back, I spat, "That's an odd thing to say, considering your plans with this Jack guy."

"Yes, it is," she muttered, pensively. "But I've given this a lot of thought, and mentally I can't go back now. Look, you don't have to help me. If you say no, I'll just tell him I have to pull my first all-nighter, but it may make him suspicious. You love Marc too, so--" She cut herself off and sighed. "Look at it this way: if I sleep with Jack and realize Marc isn't who I want to spend the rest of my life with, I'll let him go to be properly loved the way he deserves. If I decide I made a huge mistake, I'll be his dream wife forever after, knowing once and for all that he is my one and only. Either way, he wins and I win. All you have to do is sleep beside your favorite guy for a few hours."

"Has it occurred to you," I asked Gina, "That maybe you're just going through a quarter-life crisis? That you could torpedo a perfect marriage with the love of your life over an infatuation? Over fear of putting your career aside for a family?"

Her hand trembled as she drank her wine. "I'm twenty-eight years old, and I stopped making love to my husband almost two months ago. I'm already sabotaging my marriage because I'm scared to put it first while men like Jack are out there, treating me like the sexy girl I didn't get to be in college. Will the marriage get better if I carry on haunted by doubt, giving in to temptation whenever a sexy guy whispers in my ear that I have the most gorgeous ass he's ever seen? It won't work. I cannot go through life resenting my marriage. I can't do that to Marc, and I can't do that to myself." She sighed and finished her wine.