Some of this is actually true. Enjoy.
****
I was standing in the door of the refrigerator, looking for something to eat when a small voice surprised me.
"Oh, there you are. I was wondering when I was going to see you."
Standing in the door of the kitchen was my step-sister. We had both come home for the Christmas holidays and she must have arrived late the night before. Our breaks were typically long, so our parents were both at work, their holidays not yet started.
"Hi. Just trying to find something to eat."
"Let me know if you find anything good. I'm starved."
I closed the door and stood up to take a look at her and once again, I felt deeply conflicted. There was no doubt about it. Amber was a beautiful young woman. She had been a dancer all her life, ever since she was old enough to stand. She worked hard at it and loved it, and of course her body reflected the years of hard work. She was petite and moved with grace and sensuality no matter what she was doing.
Amber hopped up on the counter, very relaxed in her own skin.
"Isn't that my shirt?" I asked.
"Yeah. I saw it laying around and decided I shouldn't be walking around the house with nothing on. Plus, I like wearing your clothes. They're nice."
I looked at her a moment longer, the bottom hem of my button-up shirt coming to the middle of her thighs. She had only buttoned the bottom two or three buttons, and I could see her firm belly and the cleavage between her small, perky breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. I silently cursed myself for even checking.
My dad had married her mom a few years back, but I was living with my mom at the time, so I didn't see Amber much except the few times a year I would visit my dad.
She was a couple of years behind me in school, and though we were good friends when we were together, we hadn't really spent a lot of time together. I was finishing my undergraduate work, and she had enrolled at a local university just this past fall, studying Fine Arts and Dance, of course.
"I can't find anything to eat."
"You'll just have to get creative." There was a playful, suggestive tone in her voice.
I looked at her for a moment and thought I caught her looking me over. I realized that I was also not well-covered. I was wearing only sweatpants. I had a good body and knew it. I often walked around the dorm without my shirt on and got plenty of appreciative looks.
"I'm good at creative. And I'm hungry. Have any ideas?" Where was this going?
"I'm getting some. You look good, Sean. Have you been working out?" I really wasn't imagining it; she was checking me out.
"Yeah, some. I just like being slender and strong, I guess."
"This shirt must look nice on you. I'd like to see you in it sometime."
"How about now?" I decided to play along.