Christine comes to London
I have two sisters. Just a year and a half younger than me was Marie, married to an Italian architect and living in Italy with her husband and their two children. I only saw her on the occasional visit back home.
One day a letter arrived for me from Christine, my youngest sister. She wanted to come down to London to see me and spend her eighteenth birthday here. I wrote back straight away and told her she was welcome to visit but not to expect too much. I knew my friend Sophie would be away that weekend, so there would be just the two of us in the flat that we now shared.
When I met Christine off the train, the girl looked a bit gawky. Her shoulders were hunched; her head was down with her long blonde hair tucked into a brown beret. She seemed to shamble along as if lost. She occasionally peered round, trying to catch sight of me through her round steel Health Service spectacles.
When she finally saw me, Christine's face lit up with a great ear to ear grin. I marvelled at the difference a smile could make on a young girl's face.
We greeted each other warmly. We took a taxi to the flat. During the ride, I asked her why she had wanted to come down for her birthday. Christine was reluctant to say why at first but I got it out of her eventually. Apparently, Christine's boyfriend of the moment had ditched her because she was too frigid and didn't seem to like sex.
"Do you experience orgasms, Christine?" I asked in a confidential tone.
"No. I never have done so far. I just end up feeling frustrated and used. I don't really know if I like sex all that much. I keep saying 'Never again' to myself afterwards. Then when the opportunity comes round again, I think it might be better this time," Christine replied, "but it never is."
She looked ruefully at me. I thought it sounded all too familiar, just like my own early experiences.
But surely, I thought, Christine is too young to have had sex experiences with many boys.
"Just how many boys have you actually been with?" I asked and was astonished when the answer came back, "Er...about twenty. I guess most of our class and the one ahead."
"So how old were you the first time?" was the next question.
"Er..um...I must have been nearly fifteen," Christine replied.
"If you were with boys around your own age," Helen observed Christine's nod, "then I'm not surprised you stayed unsatisfied. Boys of that age don't know anything much about sex, except a load of smutty tales picked up from their peers or porn magazines. The secret of good sex is something I only learned just before I was twenty-one."
"What was that then?" Christine enquired eagerly, pleased to be having this conversation with her elder sister.
I recalled the good advice Sophie had given me last year and rehashed it; "It's simple. It's the same as for life in general. You get out of sex in proportion to what you put in. You have to concentrate on giving pleasure in order to get it. You have to stop thinking about your own needs, let go, and give yourself completely, with no reservations, to your man. Clear your mind of everything except the desire to give him the best shag he's ever had. Make love like that, and you will be surprised at the difference it will make for you."
"Helen darling, you do astonish me! I'd never have guessed you would ever talk to me about sex like that. I always thought of you as being a bit stuffy. A bit like a younger version of a maiden aunt!" Christine burst out laughing, "but you're really nothing like that at all!"
"Just try and bear in mind what I've told you, little sister," I said smiling.
I got Christine into a scented bubble bath, then made a couple of phone calls before joining her in the bathroom, chatting and laughing as we shampooed Christine's hair. I gave her a large warmed bath towel to dry herself.
When she reached for her navy blue school knickers and boyish vest, I beat her to it and dumped them in the bin!
"Try these", I told my sister as I gave her a pair of my own white satin and lace panties.
"Golly! I've never had anything like these on me," said Christine as I handed her a matching petticoat. That proved too small at the top, as Christine's breasts were a bit larger than mine. I had an inspiration. I went into Sophie's room and emerged with a plain primrose satin camisole. When Christine pulled it on it fitted at the bust but she was six inches taller than Sophie's five feet. The camisole, which reached an inch or so below Sophie's knees, ended up five inches above hers. However it fitted Christine's body perfectly, the smooth satin outlining her breasts, hips and her bottom in a sexy way that many film stars would envy.
"I can't wear anything this short," cried Christine, "or so revealing!"
"Perhaps you shouldn't wear it outside," I agreed, "but you won't be leaving the flat tonight anyway."
I combed Christine's hair and fashioned it into a curling topknot with a white clasp. Then I powdered her face, administered a little eyeliner and a pink lipstick. I gave Christine a pair of white open toed high-heeled shoes. Then I stood back to admire my work.
"Stand up, Chris," I commanded.
"Now stand with your shoulders back. Throw your tits out and keep your tummy flat. Lean slightly back from the waist. That will keep your bum in too," after which I produced a small flash camera and took my sister's picture.
"When you're old and grey you can look at this and see just how absolutely beautiful you were at the age of eighteen," I told my young sister, "You really are breathtakingly lovely, you know."
Christine blushed. She wasn't used to such praise from anybody, let alone her oldest sister who she used to think of as a bit stuffy. She was, I thought, just about the most gorgeous example of English maidenhood I had ever met. She reached for her glasses but once again I got there first.
"I need them," Christine pleaded, "I can't read anything without them."
"You're not going to be doing any reading tonight, young lady!" I said firmly.
