This is the third in the series about a young woman's discovery of exhibitionism. In this chapter we have reconciliation with her sister and a new performance. It's a little longer than the previous chapters. Special thanks to Xpoerotica and Devir Ginator for feedback and support.
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After the most miserable Christmas that I can remember. I turned down every invitation to parties with my friends, claiming I was ill, and even rejected the office party. My refusal to get into the holiday spirit, and waste money I didn't have, earned me the nickname the Grinch.
In early January I received the expected phone calls and emails from Hillary asking me to attend her birthday party. I was proud of myself that I rebuffed them all. She brought up the strip club again and hinted about the CCTV footage. However, I should thank whoever had been pilfering around the office, as I discovered our office security cameras overwrote the footage in a matter of weeks. When I told Hillary the footage from the club would be gone by now, it pulled her fangs, and she reluctantly backed off. From her final words that 'she'd not forget about me' I was certain I'd not heard the last of her.
By the time I was paid at the end of January I finally saw the light at the end of this very dark financial tunnel. Which was a big relief as my evenings consisted of going home, climbing into two pairs of long johns and thermal vests. Topped off with an onesie, and climbing into bed, to read my kindle. This monastic and boring existence saved on both heating and electricity.
Valentine's Day was on the coming Friday, and all week the girls at work were talking about their romantic plans. After months with no relief but my vibrator, it was hard not to be jealous and harder not to think about my ex. Or how my sister had split us up, and then started dating him.
This turned out to be somewhat prophetic, as when I got home from work on Friday, I found Emily on my front doorstep.
My first reaction is to be annoyed. I've not seen her in nearly six months, and here she was, to rub it in my face about her and my ex. That impression vanishes as I get closer and see the tear-streaked makeup. She may not be my favourite person, but blood is thicker than water, and she's always going to be my sister.
"Emily?" I ask, and she looks up and I realize she's been drinking.
"Kelly. Oh, thank god. I've been here for ages." Her voice confirms her inebriation.
"What are you doing here?" I ask as I open the door.
"I caught Philip cheating on me, and I couldn't face going home." She staggers through the door, and I pick up the carrier bag she's left behind. It's full of wine bottles, although at least one was empty.
"Where is your bathroom?" She asks, and I direct her and head through to the kitchen, putting the bottles of wine on the draining board. Four of the six were full, with one having about a third left.
If I'm going to be the shoulder for my sister to cry on, I deserve some wine, if only to stop her trying to drink herself senseless, at least that's how I justify it to myself. Grabbing a pair of glasses and a full bottle, then pausing to pour a pint glass of water I return to my tiny lounge. Filling my glass, but leaving hers empty next to the water, as a hint.
When she comes back, she flops down on the settee next to me, grabs the water and downs half of it in a single gulp. It was a surprise to see that, and my mind couldn't stop from thinking about what else she can swallow easily. The image of my ex pops up as the answer. Shaking my head to dismiss it, I ask Emily what happened.
She turns to see me as if she's forgotten where she was. Reaching for the bottle, she pours some wine for herself and tops my glass up to the brim.
"Its Valentine's Day right? So, I've been planning on something special for weeks. Something Philip hasn't done before..."
"I don't need that type of detail," I interject.
"I wanted it to be special, so I secretly took the day off, but left the house as if I was going to work as usual. I had a mani-pedi and my hair done. Shaved everything..." Remembering how my ex was reluctant to go down on me unless I was freshly shaved, I nod.
"So I come home to find the council doing something in the road with pneumatic drills. I could hardly hear a thing as I let myself into the house. I'd bought some fancy ready meal stuff for later, and I was putting it in the fridge when the drilling stopped.
"I heard a sound upstairs, and I instantly thought burglars. Taking the poker from the fireplace, I headed up the stairs..." That was another difference between us. I'd have fled the house and possibly asked the workmen to check it out for me.
"Halfway up the stairs I finally recognised what the sound was. When I pushed the bedroom door open, I saw some fat old cow kneeling on the bed facing me, while Philip was banging away behind her. You should have seen the look of shock on her face at seeing me in the doorway with the poker in hand. Philip had his eyes closed, so when she struggled to get free, he thought it was just part of their fucking. I started shouting, she started screaming. He was standing in only his socks, wet dick going limp as he tried to keep out of range of the poker." He always wore socks when we made love, and it annoyed the hell out of me.
"Well, his iPhone wasn't out of range."
"You didn't?"
"I did, I smashed it. That was enough for the woman. She grabbed her clothes and shouldered past me and down the stairs. I reckon she was off down the street with those big saggy udders flapping about. Christ, she must have been over forty. Why would he want that, when he already had this?" I want to say something catty; after all, she was the one who stole him from me. But she was still my sister, and it looks like she had actually done me a favour, of sorts.
"Who knows how men think. I sometimes think, they never do. What happened next?" I ask.
"After I put the poker through his TV, I walked out." I couldn't help but laugh.
"I wish I'd had the balls to do something like that." She grins drunkenly at me, but the expression fades quickly as she remembers she was the cause of that break-up.
"So I headed to the nearest bar intent on getting pissed and jumping the first reasonable looking guy I could find. But I didn't have any ID and they wouldn't serve me. So I went from shop to shop until I found one who would sell me wine and bought enough to have a good time by myself. I went to the park but got chased out by some bitchy mother saying I was setting a bad example for the children. Then I realized I was near here and came over."
"Why didn't you go home?"
"You know what dads like. I couldn't face the 'I told you so' speech."
"You're going to have to face him at some time. Unless you're stupid enough to forgive Philip."
"Not a chance, but if I went home this drunk, the lecture would be ten times worse." She had a point, but part of me still wants to pour her into a taxi and let her face our father's wrath.
"But why come here?"
"Because at times like this I really need my big sis. I know I fucked up, and I've not always been a good sister to you."
"Seriously, is that what you think?" I can feel my anger growing.
"What? I've always looked up to you. If I'm honest, I've always been so jealous of you. My big sister, smart, graceful and everything." Suddenly, like a bursting balloon, the anger vanishes. Was that what this was all about?
"Do you remember when I was six, we went to a dance recital, and you were the lead dancer?" I remembered that afternoon. It was the first time I'd had the lead, and I was so proud. I kept on and on about it for weeks beforehand. I nod and she continues her story.
"When I got home, I ran to my room and cried for hours. Eventually, mum found me and tried to figure out what was wrong." That hits me like a ton of bricks. I feel like someone has grabbed hold of my world and spun it around by 180 degrees. Could that be it?
My parent's sudden siding with my sister. Was it that simple? Looking back through all of the incidents with her, if I look at them from this perspective, it fits.
"I think you need something to eat." Jumping up before she can respond, I rush to the kitchen. I need time to think about this.
It seems for most of my life, my attitude towards Emily and my parent's was coloured by their unwavering support of her, over me. Had I been wrong all this time?
When Philip and I first split, I hated her. Only later did I admit the relationship was already on shaky ground, and it seems he was a far bigger douche than I thought. Cheating on my gorgeous sister proves it.
Putting on a pan of pasta, about the only thing in my cupboards, I grab the partial bottle of wine and gulp down a mouthful.
"What's this?" Emily asks, startling me. "I thought you said food?"
"This is food. It's just about all I have. Check the cupboard if you don't believe me. I'm literally living hand to mouth here since I left Philip."
"Shit, really? God! I never guessed. Why didn't you say something?"
"I tried, remember? That afternoon at our parent's place."
"I only remember you going nuclear in front of the folks. I was jealous of you even then. How about we get a pizza? I'll pay." I want to refuse, but the idea of a pizza seemed like ambrosia after all this time.
"Emily, if I'm ever going to get over what happened last year. Between you, me and Philip, I need an answer. But it has to be 100% honest, Ok? Did you set out to steal him from me?"
"No!" She exclaims instantly. Then pauses to think. That was a first for her.
"It's complicated. I was the first in my year to grow tits, and pretty soon they outgrew yours." 'Thanks for rubbing it in!' I thought.
"Finally, I had something you didn't. You had everything else, and I had these..." She grabs her tits and jiggles them.
"What are they now? A 'D'?"
"Double 'D'. Heading towards an 'E'."
"So?" Waiting for her to finish the explanation.
"So, I quickly discovered with these, boys and men were putty in my hands. A smile, a little cleavage and they'd pretty much do whatever I wanted. And I loved it; it became almost an obsession, one I struggle to turn off." I'd heard a few stories while I was at university.
"I heard you once flashed the entire school football team."
"That's nothing. In my last year, I think at least half the guys at school, and a couple of the teachers saw them at least once."
"You're such a slut," I reply, but with some humour.
"Hey, I don't mind that title. It saves a lot of wasted time and I get to have as much fun as I want. Or wanted. What would you know; you were always such a goody, goody prude."
"You don't know me! We've not lived together in over seven years, and when I lived at home, I was pretty much obliged to be the good one. I'm not as straight-laced as you think."
"What did you do? Let some guy get a glimpse of your collar bone?" She asks sarcastically
"You may have let a handful of adolescent boys and a few pervie teachers glimpse your tits, but I've performed a full striptease in a strip club." Her jaw drops open in shock. Which is mirrored internally by me. My competitiveness with Emily has caused me to expose a secret I never intended for my family to know.
"Fuck off." She scoffs dismissively.
"It's true. I took part in a competition and won £250." I left out that I came second.
"I still don't believe you could do that." She replies, but less certainly. I'm racking my brain for any proof. The name of the club or the address I could have found anywhere. Then I have it and rummage through my junk drawer to find the card the owner gave me and hand it to her. She stares open mouthed looking between the card and me. And I feel myself starting to blush.
