"So you're not wearing any panties right now?" Tammy said to Sherry, causing the two guys at the high-top next to them to snap their heads in the sisters' direction.
Sherry closed her knees, smiling crookedly at how the music in the bar had dipped at the exact moment her sister had spoken. "Do you want to try that a little louder? I think there are some guys in the back who aren't aware there's nothing under my skirt but little old me."
Tammy and Sherry were four drinks in, and it had taken Sherry the first three to begin to tell the story. She still couldn't believe she'd done it — or the effect it had had on Rob.
Tammy wore a look Sherry knew well, one that said she was bursting to say five different things at once and didn't know where to start. Sherry wondered for the millionth time whether all older sisters were such pain in the asses.
"One," Tammy said, "there's nothing little about you."
"Noted," said Sherry. "And you wish you had my curves, honey." They couldn't have been more different physically. Where Sherry had big breasts, wide hips, a belly, and thick thighs, Tammy was skinny with B cups and had been having guys throw themselves at her as long as Sherry could remember.
In fairness, Sherry thought, Tammy was a really cool chick when she wasn't royally pissing you off.
"I don't," said Tammy, "but more importantly, "I can't believe you did that? I mean, what?"
Sherry pressed her thighs together and had the urge to slide a hand under her skirt and explore the wetness that had been present ever since she'd literally dropped Rob to his knees. "What can I say? Inspiration struck. And it got me out here, didn't it?"
"I can't argue with that," Sherry said and sipped her Long Island ice tea through a straw. "What does he have, like, a panty fetish? A thing for big chicks?"
