Chapter 5: Role Playing and a Very Sexy Challenge

Taylor held onto my left arm as we walked down the concourse after disembarking from the plane. We each had our carry-on over our other shoulder. I thought she was the hottest looking woman in the airport, even with her backpack and carrying her winter coat over her arm. We walked out through security, and there was a crowd of greeters.

Taylor said, “Stay close to me and don’t speak.”

We walked with purpose towards another young woman about Taylor’s age with the same color hair and stature. The closer we got, the more I saw the resemblance. Face, hair, and eyeglasses were like the old Taylor, and it was hard to tell the rest given the heavy winter coat. The fundamental facial features were identical. I did a near double-take.

The woman kept looking past us, trying to scan the exit gate for her party – for us. She wasn’t seeing who she expected and kept straining to look past us.

We stopped right beside her, and she still hadn’t really seen us.

Taylor tapped her on the shoulder. “Charlotte, hello!”

Charlotte turned, looked up and down at her sharply dressed sister, and screamed. ‘OH, MY GOD, IT’S YOU!” About fifty people looked at the three of us. She was turning bright red in embarrassment and started to jump up and down with joy at realizing her sister was right beside her. The pair hugged and didn’t let go. I stood by.

Loudly, she went on, “I ... I didn’t recognize you. What’d you do? You look spectacular. Where are your glasses? And, you look so ... so ... well dressed ... and chic – and even sexy. Your hair is gorgeous, and you have nail polish, and ... you seem so self-assured. Oh, God, sis, you’ve been away so long and obviously done some great things.”

The sisters hugged and kissed, and studied each other.

Taylor finally gestured at me. “Charlotte this is my boyfriend, Josh.” I reached out and took her hand, and then gently pulled her to me for a hug and a kiss on her cheek, the best I could do with a backpack and winter coat over one arm.

“Wow, Taylor, you have really done very well for yourself,” Charlotte exclaimed as I released her. She was staring at me, grinning, and then would flash her sister a brief look. I felt that she approved of me. Little did she know that I was only ‘temporary’. I tried to smile back warmly at Charlotte.

Charlotte seemed to be the ‘before’ version of Taylor, that is, before she asked me to be her temporary boyfriend and to shape her up to be my kind of girlfriend material.

Looking at the two of them, I started to see more and more similarities: eyes, nose, hair color, chin, bust, gestures, word choice and speaking pace and style, and more.

I finally asked, “Charlotte, you’re younger than Taylor, but the similarities are striking.”

She laughed, “I am younger, but only by about five minutes, according to mom. We’re identical twins, not only sisters. Taylor used to lord it over me that she was so much older.” She laughed.

“Ah, that explains so much of what I’m seeing and hearing from you both. She didn’t share the ‘twins’ moniker with me.”

Charlotte led us out the door to the short-term parking area. We stowed out bags in the back of her SUV, and then started driving. I was assigned shotgun because of my long legs.

Taylor asked, “Do you think mom or dad will be angry for the way I’m dressed or my new ‘look’?”

Charlotte shook her head, “Not a bit. They’ll be shocked, yes, but there are women in the city here that look like you do, but they are rare. You’re definitely a big city girl and so sophisticated, and they probably expected as much when you went off to Boston.”

Boston had yet to see snow that season, so I was happy to see the white stuff as we carefully drove towards the Reeve’s home. Charlotte was a slow and cautious driver, which was fine with me.

We arrived just at six o’clock. I carried our two bags and followed the sisters into the house from where Charlotte parked. I heard the squeals of joy from her mother before I got to the open front door. The chants were much like what her sister had said to Taylor about her new ‘look’.

I came in the door and shut it behind me; no sense heating the rest of the city. I stomped off the snow on my shoes in the small vestibule. Taylor was in the arms of an older woman alternately hugging her and then holding her at arms’ length to take a closer look at her. In a far doorway, a man I assumed was Taylor’s father looked on and studied his pretty daughter. We briefly had eye contact and nodded at each other, and at least he smiled slightly. He knew, more or less, who I was. My arrival at their home was expected and not a secret.

After about two minutes, I suddenly found myself in the spotlight. Taylor announced, “Mom and Dad, this is Josh, my boyfriend. We also work together.”

I kind of bowed to the older couple and voiced my gratitude for them including me in their holiday celebration. I tried to exude politeness and kindness. Don threaded his way past the women and shook my hand. He pulled me into their living room, and the next I knew I had a local beer in my hand. The women were all talking at once, with obvious perfect comprehension of each other.

Don and I made small talk about our trip, what the airports had been like, and how lightly we traveled. He then dropped a bomb on me.

“Josh, since you and Taylor are boyfriend and girlfriend, we know what that’s like these days, so we put you two in the same bedroom. If that’s not all right, you let us know.” He was smiling and obviously trying to be accommodating, and he gestured upstairs.

After a few seconds, I simply said, “That’s fine. We don’t want to impose the level of our relationship on anybody else if they’re not comfortable with it.” I thought that was diplomatic and would easily let him suggest otherwise.

My brain was already in high gear meeting my temporary girlfriend’s parents and sister, but now it shifted into overdrive. I was thinking, what the fuck. Then I thought that there might be two twin beds in the room, and that would work to preserve our working relationship and the ‘temporary’ label.

When I got a brief tour of the house a few minutes later, the twin-bed idea nose-dived into oblivion. The room we’d be in, the guest room, held a queen-size bed. We’d be very cozy together. Further, I learned that it had been Taylor’s room growing up, although it had been redecorated about two years earlier after she’d moved to Boston.

The five of us sat down to eat a light supper after another hour. The meal was informal since the emphasis was on the turkey and trimmings the next day. We had some sandwiches and soup. We were slow to eat, and overall, the meal was a thorough interrogation of both Taylor and me.

The topics discussed consisted of Taylor’s new wardrobe and style, and the underlying rationale. She stated that she wanted to be appealing to me and feel better about herself. That also carried over to why she’d gone through the Lasik surgery. I was lucky, I thought, that she didn’t mention that I’d paid for many her items of clothing as well as having her eyes done. I felt really good for having done that for her and didn’t want the associated acclaim.

There was then a focus about our work and the investigative company that we worked for. Since we were not considered detectives or private investigators, we weren’t as glamorous as we might have been or as others in the company. They were fascinated about how we took a name and perhaps a little information and a possible photo, and were able to find out about all there was to know about a person. They were further impressed that companies paid us large amounts of money to do that research.

I told the story about the executive applying for a job under an alias, and how with advanced technology and a sketchy photo, we were able to identify his real identity and then to even tie down the nasty reasons he’d been dismissed from two prior jobs.

The whole time we were chatting I was in turmoil about our impending bedtime. Taylor and I were on the sofa politely holding hands part of the time, but she looked relaxed and unstressed, whereas I felt as though our ‘temporary’ scheme was about to explode apart, and further that I was being put in a position where I would do something that wasn’t in Taylor’s best interests.

After about an hour, Charlotte got up and went into the kitchen with her cellphone in hand. She returned about five minutes later and announced, “I’m staying over. The roads are just too bad to travel tonight. Besides, if I stay, I’ll be here first thing in the morning to help stuff the turkey and get it in the oven.”

Her announcement removed my one slim hope of politely using the third bedroom upstairs, possibly on the excuse that I didn’t want to upset the sensibilities of the house by being with Taylor, in her old bed, and leaving the impression that we were having sex. I wasn’t sure how I would have stated that, but it had become a moot point by Charlotte’s decision.

Faye, Taylor and Charlotte’s mother, stood and spoke. Faye said, “Good. We should go to bed. We’ll have to get up a little early to start the preparations and we should all get a goodnight’s sleep.” She and Don headed off to their bedroom on the first floor.

On the brief tour of the house that I’d been given, Don had pointed out that their master bedroom was on the first floor in a single-story extension off one part of the living room. There was also a small ensuite bath. Don had built the addition himself when the girls were little so that Faye and he could distance themselves from both their upstairs rooms and from the kitchen – both apparently sources of noise and loud music as the girls grew. That isolation at least meant that the two upstairs rooms were relatively isolated in terms of sound from the twins’ parents.

We all stood. I suggested that Charlotte go on ‘up’ so she could use the upstairs shared bathroom first before we came up to bed. That set well with her, and she left Taylor and me alone in the living room.

When we were alone, I said to Taylor in a low voice. “I am concerned about us needing to sleep together. Is there some other option I don’t know about that can avoid that but still keep up the façade of being your boyfriend – and a serious one, at that?”

Taylor leaned over and kissed me on the lips. “Nope. You’re doomed to get into the bed with me, and if I have my way, we might have an interesting time together that will leave both of us breathless.” She gave me a grin reeking in enthusiasm for what was to come. What followed was a very ‘hot’ kiss that I thought might have melted the snow outdoors.

I shook my head. “Taylor, I am no good for you. Look at me. I’m thirty-years-old and I have history of non-commitment. Every relationship that I’ve had has been short-term, and I’ve even gone out of my way to ensure that by long periods of time between dates with the same woman. That alone suggests that I have trust issues with women; make of that what you will.

“You see me as a charming and persuasive individual, but I usually hide my inner-most feelings and emotions. I’m not sure that I’m emotionally available for a serious relationship – the kind of relationship that sex with you would suggest. Boyfriends shouldn’t hold back from their girlfriends. As you can also tell, I hold my independence and personal freedom as a high priority.

“Further, my pattern of dating suggests that I will keep seeing multiple women, almost like I have a need for multiple sex partners. You don’t want to be one of those women – like a notch on my bedpost. I don’t want to lead you on, and I certainly don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations about where our role-playing may lead us.

I stepped back to see whether my remarks had any impact.

Taylor came forward and kissed me again. “I think that I know you better than you know yourself. I also have a few surprises up my sleeve that might reduce or eliminate some of your concerns. In any case, I’m a big girl, and I do know what I’m getting involved in with you. I am a very observant individual, and I have your number.”

“But ... but ... sleeping together...?”

“True, that might be awkward since we’ve never done that before, but there’s no reason this can’t be our first time.” She thought for a second and added, “And, I hope it is.”