"I have a delivery here for Dr. Harrison Jones," the man in the dark brown uniform said as he stood on the steps of the modest suburban home.
"I'll take it," the tall, slim eighteen-year-old who had answered the door said.
"Are you Doctor Jones? the overweight deliveryman, with the name Bob on his shirt, said with a smirk.
At five eight and a hundred and twelve pounds, the light brown haired women could hardly have been mistaken for a Harrison Jones. Especially when the small bikini she was wearing barely contained her 34C-24-34 inch body.
"No, I'm his daughter, Lara," she said, unimpressed with his attempt at humor. "I'll sign for it."
"Are you eighteen or older, young lady," the now annoying, middle aged man asked, sticking to his company's rules to the letter.
"Yes I am, do you need to see my driver's license?" Lara said, thinking it was too hot a day to put up with a jerk that thought for some reason that he should be on the next Comic Relief. "Cause if you do, then you are going to have to come back later. As you can obviously see, I don't have it on me."
"No, that won't be necessary," the man responded, deciding he had gotten as good a look at her breasts as he was going to get. If he stayed at this stop much longer, Bob thought, he was going to have a hard on by the time he made his next delivery. "Please sign here, number twenty-three."
Lara practically grabbed the clipboard out of his hands and scribbled her name on the last empty line. In the mood she was in right now, he would've gotten the clipboard back between his legs if she could've read his mind.
"Well you have a good day, Ma'am," the deliveryman said as he waited on the steps long enough to get a good a look at Lara's ass when she turned around to open the door. "You stay cool."
"Asshole!" Lara said softly as she carried the small package into the air conditioned house, closing the door behind her.
"God, what an ass on that one," Bob thought as he climbed back into his truck, "even better than her tits."
As he pulled away from the curb, he realized that he was going to be sporting an erection on his next stop, like it or not.
"Who was at the door?" the young man asked as he stepped in from the back yard. Like Lara, he was wearing only a swimsuit.
Only an inch taller, the darker haired teen bore enough of a resemblance to Lara for them to be twins. Which was exactly what they were. Douglas Jones shared his sister's deep brown eyes and had a body that was just as well developed.
"A package for Dad," Lara said as she read the label on the small parcel. It's from Professor Lyons in Cairo."
"Let's see what it is," Doug eagerly suggested, taking the package from his sister's hand and shaking it.
"No way, Doug," Lara said as she pulled the package back. "The last time you opened one of Dad's packages it would up in a hundred pieces. That bowl had survived five hundred years in a tomb, but not five minutes with you. Whatever this is, it can wait until the end of the month when Mom and Dad get back from Central America."
"Come on, one little accident, it could've happened to anyone," Doug said, trying to maintain a look of innocence about him. "It probably wouldn't happen again in ..."
"Five hundred years?" Lara chimed in.
"Exactly," he smiled.
"Well that's how long you'd have to wait before I trust you with another of Dad's artifacts," Lara said as she put the small package in the china closet and locked it. "And I mean that!" she warned.
"Probably just some ancient good luck charm," Doug laughed as he held on to the towel around his neck with both hands and walked away, thinking that his sister could be such a bitch at times.
The sibling's father, Dr. Harrison Jones, was a world renowned leader in the field of Archaeology. For the last month, he and his wife were away on a dig in Central America, leaving his children to enjoy, as they put it, the comforts of civilizations rather than roughing it along the equator.
In years past, Doctor and Mrs. Illyana Jones had made arrangements for Housekeepers and Nanny's when they were away. Once their children came of age, however, they trusted them to handle things in their absence. What they really should've arranged for, as anyone who knew Lara and Doug Jones could have told them, was an armed referee.
To say that Doug and Lara didn't get along would be to say that the Titanic was a minor boating accident. The two had been at each other's throats since before the onset of puberty. An event that, according to Lara, was still an ongoing process in her brother's case. Doug, on the other hand, believed his sister had been born an old lady, never wanting to have any real fun.
Lara Jones had been the valedictorian of her high school, and come the Fall was going to be entering the Pre-Med program at Harvard University. That much sought after combination of beauty and brains, she was as committed to maintaining a sound body as she was a sound mind.
Douglas Arthur Jones on the other hand, was almost the archetypical jock and party animal. Tall, dark and handsome as the old saying went, the former high school baseball and football star considered himself the Fates gift to women. It was a belief that had been steadily endorsed by a stream of young and in a few cases, not so young, women who found their way to his bed.
Both of them stood to inherit a quite considerable trust fund from their Grandfather on their twenty-first birthday. In Doug's case, he saw no reason to pass his time until then as anything more than one non-stop party.
"Hey, Doug my man, come on back to the party," a similarly garbed blond teen called from the patio door.
"Hey, wherever I am, that's were the party is, Harry" Doug said in reply.
"Well you may be the party, but the girls are still out by the pool," Harry shot back.
"Okay, I'll be right out," Doug finally relented.
"How bout you, Lara baby?" he asked, turning his attention to the brunette. "I'm saving you a lawn chair next to mine."
Harry Willis was Doug's best friend and Lara's worst nightmare. With a personality she considered almost as obnoxious as her brother's, it had been Harry's stated goal in life to share Lara's bed. In Lara's mind, he had a better chance of sharing Julia Roberts'.
It wasn't that Harry was a bad looking guy. In fact, quite the opposite was true. It was just that, like her brother, the former Swim Team Captain was more interested in girls who did their thinking with open legs or mouths than those who might be able to express an intelligent opinion.
"I'll pass, Harry," Lara said, suppressing her anger at already having her quiet day by the pool ruined by the arrival of Doug's friends. It was that anger that had been vented at the deliveryman. "I'm going up to change, then I have a few errands to run."
"I'd be glad to help," Harry quickly offered.
"No thanks," Lara declined just as quick.
Moving up the stairs to her room on the second floor, Lara was all too aware of Harry's eyes following her. As far as his eyes were concerned, she might as well have been walking around naked.
Intent on avoiding Harry's eyes, Lara totally ignored her brother's. If she had taken note of his gaze, she would've seen that it was centered on the package she had just locked away.
The errands took Lara the rest of the afternoon. None of them were particularly urgent, but she couldn't deal with all of Doug's moronic friends. Thankfully, by the time she came home, they had gone off in search of other amusements.
"A few more months and I'm out of here," Lara thought as she exited the air-conditioned comfort of her mother's car and headed for the house. "Then I'm never coming back except to visit Mom and Dad."
Despite her academic success, Lara had only a few good memories of her years at Robert Kennedy High School. Moderately popular, she'd had a few boyfriends and despite her brother's belief, hadn't been a virgin since her last birthday. Not seeing anyone now, she really wasn't planning any brief summer romances.
