I never had a brother, but if I had, I would have hoped for someone like Danny.
Danny O'Keefe was my best friend since sixth grade. For some reason, while other kids were getting caught up in a myriad of new friends and adventures, we bonded. We played inline hockey together, travel ice hockey on the same team, joked and shared our young life's pleasures.
There was one major reason why I was happy we weren't related....Danny's sister Debbie.
Debbie O'Keefe was two years older than us. We knew her first as a tomboy, but later she became the featured player in many of my masturbatory experiences. When she was a sophomore in high school she would tease us relentlessly, parading around in her bikini or short skirts and tight tops, a girl of 17 going on 25. She'd flirt, joke and cause us much embarrassment when she caught us trying to look up her dress.
Yes, Debbie was a hottie, a first class hottie. But as she progressed into her junior and senior years Danny and I became more an afterthought and finally ignorable as she went around with her older crowd and we with our younger one.
Danny hated it when I teased him about having a hot sister, but over time he began to ignore my barbs and comments. Usually our talk would get around to other girls, but in the back of my mind I would fixate on pretty blonde Debbie. My bubble burst one sweltering summer afternoon when, after joking with her, she told me to cut out the wiseass comments I was making. Throughout the day I felt it was merely innocent flirting, but she took it personally. Her put down, in front of a dozen of my friends, gave them reason to relentlessly tease me.
Oh well, as time went by I realized there were other fish to fry. I began lusting after Jill, a young cheerleader, Carrie, a brunette who sat across from me in several classes, and Mrs. Vance, the young science teacher who had a spectacular set of legs. Danny and I would trade stories about what we would like to do and with whom, secretly wanting to be the first to lose their virginity.
One Sunday afternoon Danny came by the house, looking bummed out and mentally beaten. "She told me I was a little twerp, and then called me a jerk off," Danny said sadly after an unexpected tongue lashing from his now 19-year-old sister. "Debbie has turned out to be such a bitch, and she has my parents wrapped around her fingers."
"What do you mean?" I asked, thinking of Debbie as not only beautiful but perfect in every way.
Danny looked at me, as if deciding whether to go further, then started spilling his guts.
"She gets her way, no matter what," said the dejected boy. "She wants a new outfit, she gets it. She wants to borrow the car, it's hers. But what really drives me nuts is that I end up holding the bag on things. I mean, she doesn't do a bit of work around the house, but when I get home from school I have to first do household chores before I can head out to play. And the other day when Debbie had the car I had to bike all the way over to the drug store to pick up mom's Tylenol. I mean, why couldn't Debbie get it, she had wheels."
I laughed and told him he needed the exercise, but he wasn't laughing.
"Hey, she might be a pain in the ass, but she really has a nice looking ass!" I said, laughing as I described watching her stroll out of the house in a pair of painted on white shorts and a tee top recently. "Any time your parents want her to get out of the house you can have them send her over to mine! Besides, she will be off to college soon and out of your hair."
Danny just shook his head.
"Laugh all you want," he said. "But she is a serious pain at times. She is always mocking me in front of people, she's driving me nuts. I thought as she got older she's be nicer to me, but now that she has turned 18 she's gotten even worse."
We had similar conversations over the next several weeks, and he continued to bitch about her actions while I agreed to some extent but still thought fondly of her building beauty. She was turning into a teenage bombshell, something all but a blind man could see.
Then came the phone call.
"Rob, can you get over here?" asked a subdued Danny.
"Sure Danny, want to shoot some hoops?"
There was silence, then Danny said, "No, I'm grounded, but if you come around the back of the house you can get into my room from the window."
He wouldn't tell me any more, only that he was to stay in his room during his free time for the next two weeks. So after wrapping up a couple chores I headed over to my friend's house. Good thing Danny's room was on the ground floor!
"So what's the big secret?" I quietly asked, once inside his unkept room. Even my room, with clothes thrown all over, didn't have a, well, putrid smell like Danny's.
"This time she has gone too far," said my best friend, pointing toward his sister's room. "This time I got grounded for something she said I did, and I am pissed off about it."
For the next half hour I heard Danny's tale of woe, of how his sister, after being told "no" for the 18th time about the purchase of a slutty red gown for her prom, stole money from her mom's purse and from the milk money in the kitchen to buy the coveted dress. She did it over several weeks, pocketing some away here and there.
"Did you see her take the money?" I quizzed.
"No, but I know she did it. It had to be her."
"So what has that got to do with you?"
"Plenty," he replied. " I needed a couple bucks for a watch, and she told me to go take some of the money out of the milk money bottle. I did, and that night I was confronted by my mother, who demanded I tell her where I got the watch, the money for the watch, and what did I think I was doing? I said I got it out of the bottle, but I didn't mention Debbie, because I didn't want her to get into any trouble. Then my mom blamed me for missing money from her purse, and before you could wink an eye I was grounded, and when dad got home I got the belt. It was 20 smacks and my ass still hurts."
"Why didn't you tell them about Debbie, I mean, she told you to do it," I asked.
"I really didn't want to get her into trouble, but then I realized she was just using me as a foil for her stealing, I mean, I heard her talking to Julie about the dress, how she was going to stop somewhere after leaving here prom night and change into it, and how she fooled my parents into blaming me for the stealing. Right away I knew I had to get her back."
"But how," I asked.
Danny lowered his voice before asking me a question. "That's where you come in. Do you still have your video camera?"