Three Means 1

Guess the Twin

    "I don't think so." Dulce argued, as her voice trembled with determination. She grasped the edges of the table and attempted to stand from her chair but Angelo's hand landed on her shoulder, pressing her back down with strength.

"No, I don't fucking think so."

His right hand remained on her shoulder, while his left wrapped around her neck, possessively. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against her right cheek with warm and intimate breath.

"Come on, princess, it will be fun." He whispered.

Dulce gulped, her mouth dry as bones. She bit her tongue to bring in some moisture. She was fearful but there was also a perverse thrill of excitement.

She looked up at Pierre, whose calm expression seemed almost unreal. He looked back at her and offered a smile, which brought offered some comfort to her.

"I promise you won't regret it, but if you don't wish to partake, that's fine." Pierre said. Then his eyes met Angelo's. "Isn't that right, Angelo?"

Angelo released his grip on Dulce's throat, his fingers tracing softly along her cheek. "Of course. She's the princess of the house; she sets the rules."

Dulce laughed. The rules? It seemed a cruel joke, considering he had just forced her to remain seated.

"What is your decision? Will you play with us?" Angelo asked, his voice now low.

Dulce looked up at him and slowly nodded. A big smile spread across his face as he leaned in close, his lips near her ear. "I like it when you're so obedient." He whispered. It sent shivers down her spine.

Angelo moved to the other side of the dining table, taking a seat next to Pierre.

"Guess the twin." Pierre said, his eyes on Dulce.

"What?"

"We will tell you a story or a fact, and you must guess which one of us it belongs to." Pierre explained.

"How do I win?" Dulce asked.

"If you guess correctly, we strip. If you guess incorrectly, you must strip for us." Angelo replied, quite amused.

"It's hardly fair. I don't know about either of you." She protested.

"And that is precisely the point." Pierre said, a with a smirk curling his lips.

Despite the rational voice in her mind begging for caution, Dulce felt an inexplicable need for compliance. Their magnetic pull was undeniable, and she found herself nodding, even though she knew it was a reckless satisfaction.

"First question: One of us is very skilled at filmmaking, just like our parents. Who is it?" Pierre asked, observing her as she nervously fiddled with her fingers.

Dulce looked from Angelo to Pierre, but both men had identical, unreadable expressions. There was no discernible clue in their faces.

"I have to guess you, Pierre." She finally decided.

    Smirking, Pierre placed his fingers delicately on the buttons of his shirt and began unfastening them, one by onee. With the last button undone, he removed his white, flower printed linen shirt and tossed it aside.m

"How did you know?" Pierre asked.

"Well, Angelo works at the bakery, so I guessed you must have a strong liking for film." Dulce replied with confidence.

"I do have a passion for it." He confirmed.

Before the conversation could derail further, Angelo cut in, "Second question: Which one of us is an introvert?"