Sexy Shorts

1 - Breaking Rules

Okay, so this started out as a one-shot and it kept going. I hope that the other R-Rated shorts I write for this collection don't turn out so long, so I apologize in advance. 

2 – Breaking Rules

          To say that Bale scared me was a bit of an understatement. He was the kind of guy that just intimidated you—whether he meant to or not. Bale had a hard exterior; a life of alcohol, drugs, sex, and rock n roll. He wore a leather jacket and drove a Harley. He was the bad guy.

          Coincidentally, he was my older brother’s best friend. They shared an apartment together, both twenty-one and out of the house. It was a seedy apartment complex in a bad part of the city. I spent more time there than I would have liked, but home wasn’t very welcoming.

          I’d been tossed from home to home since my parents died when I was six. At first, the foster care system tried to place my older brother, Cameron, and I together, but then they gave up at that.

          Cameron aged out of the foster care system and got an apartment with Bale. However, me being only seventeen, I was stuck with living with strangers; strangers with evil intents and sly, deceitful ways, so when I could I would hang out at Cameron’s.

          However, not everyone at the apartment was so welcoming of my presence. Bale was a little rude sometimes. He called me “princess” and “kid” all the time, even though he isn’t that much older than me.

          I had left bright and early to go to Cameron’s. It was Saturday, a day best spent away from home. Every day was a day best spent away from home. Even the word “home” was a disgrace to the shelter that I resided in with the world’s worst foster family.

          Of course Cameron was still in bed, and I let myself in. I sat in the living room on their ragged old couch and turned on the TV. I watched the news, minus the sound. I wasn’t dumb enough to wake Bale or Cameron up.

          I snooped in their cupboards and stole a chocolate fudge Pop Tart, Bale’s favorite. He made sure he always had a box on hand, and I was eating the last one. Hopefully I could pass it off on Cameron.

          “You have no life, kid,” Bale grumbled as he left his bedroom. His hair was a disheveled mess, he had bags under his eyes and he was nursing a hangover, “And you’re eating my fucking Pop-Tarts.” He grabbed my leftovers and ate them.

          “Sorry?” I said, not really all that apologetic.

          “You sit here and watch TV, sometimes eat our food, or read a book. I mean seriously, who reads a fucking book?”

          “I like books,” I said, trying to defend myself.

          “I’m just saying you’re not living. You need to be wild for once. It seriously can’t be fun to sit here at your brothers and watch the big kids have fun,” he said.

          I took his advice. I’d been invited to Stevie Wilkes party, and his parties were legendary. I’m talking straight out of Project X kind of parties. So I went, how bad could it be?

          Needless to say, it was terrible. Everyone was drunk. I’d drank a beer, trying to choke it down because let’s face the facts; beer tastes disgusting. Some people were doing drugs that I’m pretty sure Bale would deem dangerous, and he did it all. Then there was my foster brother, Kyle.

          “Come on, Sloane, you know you want to,” my foster brother, Kyle smirked. He grabbed at my shirt, drunk as a fish. His hands were rough and grabby on my boobs.