Kimberley had it easy. She had been totally comfortable with herself and the life she led ever since junior high, when everyone's hormones were going crazy and she just couldn't figure out what the big deal was about getting into fights over girls (or guys) and spreading rumors about sexual escapades with whoever (or whatever). She kinda felt sorry for all of em – every once in a while, she'd see one of her more adventurous friends descend into the waking coma of 'I still feel like a little kid' and 'no one really respects me' – and she just tried to reassure them (and herself) that it was natural, it was hormones, it would pass, and look at me, I've got it under control.
Kim sure did have it under control. And it was true what everyone, behind her back, said about her: she was stuck-up. She didn't admit it to herself, and she sure as fuck knew she didn't want to be another pigtailed sneer in half-calf boots, but she felt just as superior as them. She just knew better than to flaunt it directly – no, the most powerful, soul-crushing, psychopath-producing brand of superiority is passive-aggressive. Just ask her one-year-younger sister, Katie.
Katie had fun. She had been caught watching her cousin masturbate in the basement of the church during their mom's second wedding, when she was 14 – and he was 12. At least, 'watching' is what the woman who caught them called it, and Katie did briefly consider correcting her: 'actually, you cunt, I was teaching him. He's fucking twelve.'
Kimberley has done her best to raise the poor abused boy right over the past 4 years and cope with the unspeakable damage that Katie did to him. It started with 'stay away from Katie,' and, now that he's 16 and he's gotten into soccer, it's 'stay away from girls like Katie.' You're a true hero, sis.
But Kim's had her own sexual experiences! She played spin the bottle, for like, 7 spins, and it landed on her, but, y'know, it was getting late and stuff. Oh, and that time she played truth or dare. She didn't get dared, but someone actually asked her what her cup size was, and she told them! Everyone heard it! Her heart was racing.
And now she's got this mild-mannered yet teeth-grittingly gorgeous boyfriend, named Jerry of all things, and now they're engaged, and Kim won't shut the fuck up about how he's more than a man for her to even handle, much less even think about another man, and Katie still feels like she might as well be teaching all her half-drunk hookups how to masturbate. The best orgasms she's ever had have still been on top of a vibrator – thinking about that one time she caught Jerry staring at her over Kim's shoulder while he hugged her.
See, it's not so hard to imagine that Jerry would go for Katie if he's so gaga over Kim – they're almost the same from the neck down. Katie thinks Kim's C-cups are a little perkier, and Kim thinks Katie's ass and legs are a little fuller, but they're pretty much just making up reasons to resent each other. They could share every article of clothing they wore (though they only actually did as a goof, since their two fashion senses were like Yin and Yang), and there were a few pictures in the photo album where you couldn't see their face or hairstyle very well and literally no one could tell who it was. They called them photos of Katerley.
Katie had a small butterfly tattoo just above and to the left of her little patch, and a barbell through the nipple of her left breast, but of course such things never got brought up while perusing the family photo album.
So yeah, both of them have gotten into college, and Kim's going to Princeton, so they'll probably never see each other again, like, hardly ever. And, Kim being the mature one after all, she decided she wanted to bond with her sister a little, or at least make her feel a little more accepted by her. It might help her gain some real self-respect before she's tossed out there to make something of herself. And, of course, it might get her to listen to her when she kept telling her to grow up and stop having so much fun.
Katie came down the stairs wearing what she'd slept in, a short lavender babydoll and a pink pair of those ridiculous designer panties that are just one strip of lace in a V shape. Kimberley, of course, had been awake for an hour now, and was looking professional in slacks, a white button-down with wide, flat collar wings across her collarbones, and a gray blazer.
"You couldn't be more desperate to look old, could you," Katie muttered groggily as she made a bowl of cereal. "You should be holding up the Business section and wearing your morning reading glasses." She sat down next to her and threw her feet up on another chair, proudly stretching out her long, tan, and allegedly better-toned legs.
"Well how are you planning to dress today, then, Katie?" Kim would never catch on that her habit of repeating Katie's name every other sentence was perhaps the single most infuriating thing she did.
Katie put her bowl down and decided to retaliate with her tried-and-true sexual competitiveness – it if didn't make Kim flat-out jealous, at least it proudly defied her conservative sensibilities. "Well, I just got this wicked pair of black boots, and of course what else is there to wear with boots but fishnets?" She drew her nails luxuriously up her legs, leaving goosebumps. "My stockings will eventually disappear underneath a criminally tight miniskirt, and as for what to frame these luscious babies with," – she cradled her breasts together under the lace – "I was thinking, maybe, just that itsy-bitsy little leather vest I love. Over a blood-red camisole. For modesty." She picked up her bowl. "Oh, and a choker."
Kim chuckled, but with a sarcastic manner and a shake of the head. "Anyone can dress like that and get the reactions you do, y'know. It's not like it makes you special or powerful, Katie."
"Sure it does," she shot back without looking up from her bowl, "cuz I got balls. Just cuz anyone can kill someone doesn't mean a murderer isn't special," she looked at her pointedly, "or powerful." She looked back down. "Seriously, what makes you so fuckin sure that you could be me if you tried? That you'd actually be able to sit through a whole class, barely dressed, surrounded by smoldering gazes?"
"Well, Katie, you're just desensitized. You've-"
"Fuck you, 'desensitized'," Katie laughed venomously. "You don't know the first fucking thing about sensation. I'm the one here who's explored sensation. And lemme tell you, I don't regret a single thing I've ever done, or felt. Not one goddamn thing, even things that hurt. So no, I'm not desensitized or traumatized or scared of true love or whatever the fuck." She seemed as closed up as a blast door at that point, and Kim felt that sinking ball inside that visits you when you've totally taken a conversation in the exact opposite direction you meant to.
Not the end of the world, though... just use it. You've joked around amicably plenty of times – hell, insulting each other is the only way you guys communicate for real anyway. Just keep coming at her.
"Y'know, you might have no problem defending your lifestyle sittin' here around the breakfast table talking about how you feel, but I'd like to actually see you at one of your crazy parties one night and see just how much fun you actually have. I really would. I'll bet all the guys are losers and then when you spot one that's hot you can't even say 'hey, you're hot!' cuz the music is stupid loud, and then you get drunk and pass out alone in a guestroom."
Katie just grinned and shook her head, scraping up the last spoonful of cereal. "If that's really what you think, I feel genuinely sorry for you... and it prolly is, cuz if you had any idea, you'd flat-out leave Mr. Clean-Cut that you got wrapped so tight around your lil' finger there."
Kim started to feel where she wanted to go. "Oh I don't think Jerry would be against a decent party. Notice I said DECENT. You wouldn't know where to find one of those."
Katie snorted. "Y'know, he's got the goods, don't get me wrong, but for the life of me I can't imagine him doing anything in bed but lying there moaning at you. Same goes for you, for that matter – do you guys just hold hands and moan at each other all night?"
Kate's corrosiveness aside, Kim had to admit, both her and Jerry were trying and failing to spice things up. They'd been together for years and they'd made enough love to turn the sky pink, but they wanted to FUCK! And every time one of em would try to talk dirty or get rough, they'd both just burst into laughter – it was just so absurdly awkward. And yet, when the chuckles died down, there was this horrible emptiness, and frustration.
What the hell... Maybe Katie could help.
"Ok, Katie, so what would you do with Jerry, then?" The mood had obviously taken a 90-degree turn. "Maybe you're right, maybe Jerry's as inexperienced as I am and he needs a girl to really, y'know, take him out there and back. What do you think I can actually do?"
Katie's whole body was tensed, like a cat that had just landed from a fall. She stared at her empty bowl, racing to decide how much to reveal. She decided to buy time. "Alright sis, if you really wanna go there, why don't you tell me what you HAVEN'T done."
Kim was uncomfortable already, but determined to hide it. "What do you mean? I do everything he asks me to..."
"Okay, so you blow him. Do you swallow?"
Kim was afraid a question like that was coming up, but she was already steeled. "No."
"Lemme guess: 'he hasn't asked me to'," she declared snappily. Kim felt like a mouse in a maze, and Katie was the doctor. "What else don't you do?"
"Well..." Kim finally decided to open up. How could she not and still expect Katie to? "I have been kinda thinkin about that... I don't, like, kiss his neck, maybe, and, y'know when you're on top? Well, I was thinking maybe he'd like it if I, y'know, like, touched myself, like, play with my breasts."
"What's your favorite position?"
"Missionary."
"I fuckin' knew it," she said with a rock of her chair and the Smirk of the Year. "Alright, 'Dissatisfied in Denver', have you done him reverse-cowgirl?"
"Yes."
"Spooning?"
"Yes, of course."
"Standing?"
"Yeah... once. It was pretty-"
"Doggystyle." There was a finality to that one.
"No. But he's never..." Kim trailed off, feeling stupid. Katie couldn't have looked more full of herself.
"Well holy shit, we've made a breakthrough," she mocked. Kim just continued feeling stupid.
