So far it seemed to be working, and so far Sam stuck to his part of the plan. He reached out for his sister's hand, knowing instinctively it would be there just like it always would. Their fingers laced together, their hands squeezed, their fingers interlocked, two soft feminine hands only different in the color of their nails, one gold one purple to match their dresses, no matter what else happened, they had each other. No matter what happened with Johnny, he'd still have his sister to cuddle and kiss and fuck in any way they felt, even if they'd both reached the point where just the two of them alone wasn't entirely satisfying (hence the quest for the ideal third...).<br/><br/>So Sam kept the vacant grin on his face as he pulled back, an appreciative "ooooh" as Johnny wrapped a big hand around his slender waist, that slut diet really showing off how tiny his mid-section had become as Johnny's big, rough hand, easily held him by it, tiny waist a sensible spot to grip, wide hips a sensible place for a man to rest his hand, Johnny was sort of doing both at once. Sam giggled and took the hit as he was pulled in, him and his sister moving in unison a quick little step in their very high heels to be even closer to this man. Up close he could smell the whisky, and some sort of vaguely industrial smell to the man. Did he still work outdoors? His skin seemed tanned enough, his appearance rugged enough despite his suit, lord knows his hands were rough enough.<br/><br/>His heart was still racing, still fearing somewhat that any minute now Johnny's head would snap around and he'd say wait a minute, and Sam would find himself tossed over something and hurt. But that was silly, he told himself, even in the roughest bullying Johnny never really hurt him so much as humiliated and embarrassed him. Well, as long as he didn't fight back. Or talk back. Or tell on him. He gulped a little, his fun slutty smile faltering a little, but he repeated his mantra, fun and slutty, fun and slutty, in his head, and squeezed his sister's hand behind the man's back and felt more at ease.<br/><br/>He giggled, not sure what else to say, free hand playing at the end of his thick dark curls, wiggling his hips a little to the beat of the dance, rubbing them at one side against the man's thigh, on the other hand up into his hand inviting it to move up and down his curves.