"You know Saturday's my birthday," Morrigan said on the phone to her little brother.
"Of course I know that," replied Ian. "That's why I'm coming home for the weekend."
"I know that. And I know I'll see you at mom and dad's for lunch. But I'm having a party at my house on Saturday night, and I'd like you to come to that."
"Yeah, I appreciate that," Ian said. And he really did. My God, seven years ago when he was in junior high, what he wouldn't have given to be invited to one of his big sister's parties. "But I'm bringing my roommate home for the weekend with me to see the big city."
"So bring him."
Morrigan adored her little brother, despite -- or maybe because of -- the few years of difference in their ages. And he worshipped her. She had been his first baby-sitter, his protector, and his idol. Now that he was in college and she was in her late 20s, he still idolized her. There had never been anything weird about their relationship. Even though these days, she represented to him the ideal of an adult woman. Of course, all of her friends were now adult women, too, and he certainly had no problem with that.
As he thought about it, he realized, his roommate Ron would probably feel the same way. Even though he was almost sure Ron was still a virgin. Probably, in fact, especially since Ron was still a virgin. "All right," he agreed. "I'll tell Ron that's what we're doing on Saturday night."
"Good," Morrigan chuckled. "And remember, this is a grown-up party. So look the part. I don't want you two showing up in Pokemon t-shirts."
Ian and Ron showed up at the door of Morrigan's downtown apartment at 8 PM, appropriately dressed in slacks, open-necked dress shirts, and untailored but acceptable sports coats. Morrigan greeted them with an approving wink, and gave her brother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then she embraced Ron, too, as if their family lunch together a few hours earlier had made them lifelong friends.
Ron was mesmerized. The apartment, though not large, just seemed to be the epitome of urban sophistication, especially the sliding glass doors onto the balcony overlooking the city skyline. The music in the background was bluesy-jazzy piano (Dr. John, Ian informed him). A dozen or more classy-looking young adults mingled throughout the open living space. An array of classy-looking bottles of liquor sat on the bar.
And then there was Morrigan. He had been attracted to her at lunch at Ian's parents' house, when she was attired in jeans and a sweater. Now, she was dressed in a form-fitting silky black dress that accentuated her sleek womanly curves in a way that no college co-ed could match, and a pair of heeled boots that took his breath away.
Morrigan took them through the small crowd, making introductions; and both young men found themselves relieved that no one seemed condescending. The women were all attired in flattering cocktail dresses, some of them with their hair gathered up in stylish coifs, showing off their jewelry and their necks and collarbones. But Ron couldn't take his eyes off of Morrigan.
The men were casually but elegantly dressed as well -- all of them with the expensive haircuts and the toned, gym-enhanced physiques that their young professional statuses would have suggested. Ian, for his part, knew that almost all of them were admirers of his sister, even if half of them were there with dates. Morrigan had always attracted male attention, although she received it in an odd, aloof way that Ian had never quite understood.
Morrigan took Ron by the elbow and guided him toward the bar, with Ian following along. "So, can I get you gentlemen a drink?"
Ian asked for a Grey Goose on the rocks, and Morrigan gestured "help yourself." Then she cocked her head as she made eye contact with Ron. "And you?"
"Umm... Rum and Coke?" Ron suggested.
Morrigan smiled but avoided laughing at the request. Easy enough. She made a point of pouring the drink. Then, just before handing it to him, she dipped one index finger into it to stir it. Then she placed her manicured finger between her lips and sucked it clean, watching his pupils dilate.
"I need to mingle," she informed them. "I'll leave you young men to your own devices."
Ian and Ron continued to hover near the bar, chatting with each other, people-watching. Or, at least, Ian was people-watching. Ron's eyes continued to follow Morrigan around the room, watching her eyes sparkle and her cleavage jiggle as she joked with her guests, and her irresistible backside sway as she moved to the next group. At one point, one of the male guests placed his hand on the small of Morrigan's back, and Ron found himself feeling irrationally jealous.
After twenty minutes or so, she returned to them. "You boys have barely moved!" she chided. "Come on, let me show you around," she said, once again placing her hand on Ron's elbow to guide him.
There wasn't that much to see in the small apartment. The view from the balcony was magnificent. One of the pieces of art on the wall, Morrigan pointed out, was an actual painting and not just a framed print. At one end of the main room was a short hallway,
