Catherine And Thomas

My brother, Thomas, is 10 years older than I am. He’s tall and very handsome – he has thick, wavy black hair and intense brown eyes fringed with long black eyelashes. He’s powerfully built, with wide shoulders, long muscular legs and big strong workingman’s hands that belie his career as a major player in the corporate world. We have no other brothers and sisters and though we spent little time living in the same house (he left home when he was 18 and I was 8) we’ve always been fond of each other.

Thomas was and still is, the dynamic personality in our family. He has a big booming laugh and a forceful, confident, yet charming manner that draws people to him. He is never at a loss for company, especially female company. As a child, I often if he wasn’t a changeling – he was that different to the rest of the family. I am much quieter, almost an introvert. I read obsessively and my social life usually revolves around films, theatre, museums and other solitary pursuits. I have a few friends whose company I enjoy but I am equally (maybe even more) comfortable being on my own.

Our parents are kind enough but they’re not what you would call the most exciting of people. What passion they could muster was all directed at Thomas. He was the perfect son, everything they ever wanted. They always took good care of me and I never lacked for anything, except maybe the kind of parental adoration and concern I sometimes caught glimpses of when visiting friends at their family homes.

When Thomas visited he brought light, laughter and colour into our rather drab home. My parents were roused from their usual complacent state and I could imagine for a time that this is what my family was always like. You would think that my parents’ naked adoration of Thomas would make me jealous of him. On the contrary, I could understand their preference for him and I loved him dearly. He made it easy to love him because he was unfailingly kind and affectionate towards me, always ensuring my inclusion in all family activities and doing his best to coax me out of my introverted ways. He made light of my parents’ fussing and refused to acknowledge his status as the golden boy of the family.

I may not resemble Thomas in personality, but we are quite similar in appearance. I am also tall with long black hair and big brown eyes with the same long sooty eyelashes Thomas has. I do not have the slim boyish figure for which I yearn. I’m not fat - statuesque would be an apt description. Sometimes Thomas teases me and says that I was born in the wrong era. I should have lived in an era when men appreciated a woman who had curves and soft places and padding in all the right places. Then he’d laugh and hug me because I’d be blushing and telling him to be quiet and not talk such rot.

As we got older I saw less of him as his career took off and his life revolved more and more around making deals and getting to the top. I had never been interested in business and even now would rather read Jane Austen than the latest Suze Orman. I was fortunate that my parents never nagged me to be more like Thomas. They allowed me the space to follow my own interests, though I think that was more the result of a lack of interest rather than the desire to nurture their only daughter.

My small circle of friends and shy ways meant that I didn’t have an active social life in high school. I had gone on a few dates, usually with boys who weren’t that popular. They were nice enough, but they wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Sometimes a boy would give me a goodnight kiss and I usually enjoyed that. I knew I wanted more but I didn’t want to be like the girls at school that everyone gossiped about – the ones that gave in too easily. Secretly, I envied them. I wanted to have the confidence to go all the way with a boy and not care what people said but I knew I could never be that kind of girl. It just wasn’t me.

People who knew me equated my shy ways and solitary nature with a lack of interest in sex but in truth, this wasn’t so. I had a very active interest in sex but limited means to express that interest. I discovered masturbation at the age of 10. As I grew older and learned where and how to touch myself, masturbation became my regular and only outlet for the sexual frustration I was experiencing. I usually masturbated at least once a day, two or three times if I could. At first I felt guilty about what I was doing but after reading a few psychology textbooks I concluded that this was a normal part of growing up and that I had nothing to be ashamed of. Consulting my friends or (heaven help me) my parents never occurred to me. My instinct was to go to books because that’s where I seemed to learn all the important lessons.

My life drifted along until I left high school and went to university. I decided to major in English and History. I know, I know – what kind of job did I expect to get with that degree? As I said, I was never business-minded and to me it made perfect sense to study subjects I loved, rather than ones that made practical sense. My goals were modest – I wanted to get my degree, get a job that involved books and move into a small house that I could make into my own home. I knew that some time I would have to consider the possibility of a husband and children but that seemed far in the distant future.

My first year at university wasn’t quite what I expected. I had entertained thoughts of breaking out of my shell and becoming more involved in campus social life but instead university seemed more like an extension of high school in that regard. I was still part of the crowd that no one seemed to notice. What was different was that I had access to more books and information than was at high school. There were also more people here who wanted to learn than there was at high school. I made a few new friends, mostly people like me who had a genuinely love of learning and books. I soon settled in and began to enjoy my time there.

During those years I saw little of Thomas. He visited his family remarkably often for a man as ambitious and driven as he was but even so, sometimes months would go by between visits. Many of those visits coincided with my exams so I was usually at the library or in my room immersed in my books or on the Internet doing research when he arrived. When he caught me studying at home he would pop his head into my room and give a cheerful greeting, usually followed by a hug and five minutes of brother/sister chat (“How’s school? Ok. How’s work? Ok”) before leaving me to my studies.

On one of those visits, in my last year, I noticed he looked tired and not his usual sparkling self. When I asked him if he was ok he replied that he was working on a complicated business deal and was having more problems than he thought he would. I felt a stab of guilt for not taking more of an interest in his life and ventured to ask him what kind of problems. He hesitated and I was about to tell him he didn’t have to say anything when he started talking. I have to admit, I didn’t understand most of what he said but I understood enough to get the general idea. In any case, I doubt he wanted my advice. What he needed was a sounding board and I was it. He was sitting on my bed and I was at my desk. For the half an hour or so that he spoke it felt like we were the only two people in the world. I even managed to ask a few questions that didn’t make me sound like a complete idiot. I was sorry when my mother called up that dinner was ready and we should come down to eat. For the first time in a very long time Thomas and I were actually having a meaningful conversation, even if it was one where I understood maybe a tenth of what he was saying!

We didn’t see each other for about a month after that. He was immersed in getting that deal and when he succeeded, he was busier than ever before. I was preparing for finals and my life revolved around classes, library and studying. My intermittent social life died out almost completely, though I was sometimes persuaded to take in a film with friends or go out for a drink. When we did see each other we’d make time to talk properly, even if it was only for 15 minutes or half an hour. It wasn’t always easy to do that because my parents usually monopolized his time. I felt that I was starting to get to know my brother on an adult level.

All the hard work I’d put in over the previous four years finally paid off when I graduated summa cum laude. Thomas couldn’t attend my graduation because he was out of the country on business but he called to congratulate me and followed up his phone call with a surprisingly large transfer into my bank account. I was astonished and very appreciative. He laughed and brushed aside my stuttering thank you when we next spoke.

“You deserve it Cat. You worked hard enough and I want you to go out and have some fun.”

My name is Catherine and that’s what everyone calls me, not Cathy or Cath but Catherine. Thomas, however, has always called me Cat. My mother said that when I was born they told him my name and he didn’t like it so he decided to call me Cat and no one could persuade him otherwise. That’s the way he is – once his mind is set on something there is nothing that can be said or done to sway him.

Now two months of idle time lay ahead of me. Thomas’s gift, combined with my substantial savings meant that I wasn’t hurting financially. I started the holiday by going on a little shopping spree. I seldom bought clothes because most of the clothes I liked didn’t fit me well – too short in the leg and too tight around the hips and buttocks. All too often I gave up in frustration and spent my money on books instead. Consequently I did not possess the most stylish wardrobe.

That day was to be my lucky day though. I was wandering through the mall trying to decide which shop to venture into when I spotted a small shop, boutique really, that had two beautiful dresses in the window. One was a long slinky dress in a deep, almost purple, shade of red. The other dress was short and formfitting and toffee-coloured. Impulsively, I walked in and found myself asking to fit on the dresses in the window. Minutes later I was ushered into a small dressing room. I fitted on the red dress first and when I looked in the mirror I was stunned to see a stranger looking back at me. I had never given much thought to my looks and was astonished to see an attractive young woman in the mirror.

The red dress picked up the warm tones in my mocha-coloured skin and made a lovely contrast against my black hair and dark eyes. I spent a few minutes turning around and admiring myself from different angles, marveling at the image I saw in front of me. I reluctantly took off the red dress and tried on the toffee-coloured dress. It didn’t make as dramatic an impact as the red one but it clung to my body, showing off my long legs and small waist. When I stepped out of the dressing room to take a look in the big mirror outside I caught the eye of a man walking past and stifled an embarrassed laugh when he gave a double-take and then grinned his appreciation of my figure. I surprised myself by returning his smile before ducking back into the dressing room to change back into my normal clothes.

The saleswoman, who at first seemed aloof and intimidating, smiled warmly at me when I took both dresses and then followed up with two pairs of sexy high-heeled sandals and a third more sensible pair, as well as beautiful red chiffon and lace wrap that was threaded through with strands of gold. That saleswoman had reason to smile – I couldn’t stifle a dismayed gulp when I saw the total price - I was probably single-handedly responsible for her annual bonus. Still, once I got over the shock, I walked around the mall a bit and discovered that there were a few other (cheaper) shops that had fashionable clothes that actually fit me well. All in all, it was a good day and I arrived home feeling happy with my purchases and myself.

My beautiful clothes spent their first two weeks in my possession, hanging in the closet. In my excitement I had forgotten that I had nowhere to actually wear those lovely garments. That was soon to change because my 22nd birthday was in a week’s time and I felt sure I could wear one of my new dresses then. I was expecting the usual birthday tradition – dinner at a nice restaurant with my parents and Thomas (if he was available). Instead, this year I was in for a surprise. Thomas called about two days before my birthday and said that he had a special treat planned. He would come over early to our house so everyone could wish me and I could open my presents but afterwards he was taking me to the most fashionable restaurant in town, followed by dancing at an exclusive members only nightclub and the best part was that our parents weren’t invited. I was speechless with pleasure as Thomas brushed aside my parents’ protests with a comment that I was no longer a child and it was about time I celebrated my birthday without their supervision.

The big day arrived and I was like a child at Christmas. I woke at dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. I went for a long run and worked off some of my nervous energy. One would swear I had a date with my knight in shining armour, rather than my big brother. Still, it was good of him to be making such a big effort for his baby sister. I couldn’t think of many brothers who would go to so much trouble for their sisters.

I wasn’t much good with makeup and hairstyles so I asked one of my friends, Claire, to help. We decided to blow-dry my hair but leave it hanging loose around my shoulders. Claire knew how to apply makeup and we had a grand time trying out all the lipsticks, eye shadows, etc. in her bag of tricks. Eventually we had to get serious when we realised there wasn’t much time left before Thomas was expected. We decided that I would wear the red dress because it was more sophisticated. Claire did her magic and refused to let me look at myself until I had on the dress and the matching slinky, sexy high-heeled sandals that showed off my long slim feet to perfection.

“You look gorgeous Catherine!” Claire exclaimed.

I turned around and gaped at the sophisticated woman in the mirror. That was me?

“I take it back.” Claire laughed. “You don’t look that beautiful with your mouth hanging open!”

I pretended anger and threw a pillow at her. She squealed in mock-terror and we ended up giggling like the little girls we no longer were. We had to stop when my mother told me to com downstairs as Thomas had arrived and I didn’t want to be late for my date, now did I? Claire and I pulled faces at each other and sniggered at my mother’s tone of voice. She was jealous that I would have her precious boy all to myself for an evening.

I walked into the living room and found Thomas chatting to our father. He looked up when I entered and stopped mid-sentence. He didn’t say anything for a second and I panicked. What if I looked like an idiot? I must look like a silly little girl playing at being a woman.

“God Cat! You look stunning!” Thomas said.

I felt a hot wave of relief wash over me and gave him a broad smile. For that brief moment, I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

We went through the ritual of toasting my birthday and I opened my presents. My parents gave me what they usually gave me – a book voucher and cash. Thomas gave me something special though – an exquisite, delicate gold chain with a blood-red ruby pendant. I put it on immediately and it matched my outfit perfectly. Our parents fussed over Thomas and peppered him with questions. I noticed he adroitly avoided our mother’s probing questions about his love life. Though it was my birthday, all their attention was focused on my brother. It was starting to get embarrassing the way they fussed over him and ignored me. Thomas mercifully cut the evening short by telling them we had to leave immediately or we’d be late for dinner. As soon as we got into the car we looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Christ Cat! How do you stand them? They’re getting stuffier by the day!” Thomas crowed. “I love them but all that fussing just gets to me after a while.”

When I could talk again I replied. “They’re not like that with me Thomas, only with you.” I said as I caught my breath and rearranged my hair. “I suppose I’m fortunate they don’t pay much attention to me – I can do pretty much what I like.”

Thomas twisted in his seat to look at me and asked, “Does it bother you Cat? That they favour me, I mean.”

“No, it doesn’t, not really. It’s just the way things are. I’m used to it.” I replied.

“It’s a pity because you really deserve more attention than they give you. You’re a special person Cat. I always thought so.” He said.

I gaped at him. I’d never heard him talk that way. I blushed but fortunately it was dark in the car and he couldn’t see. I didn’t know what to say and managed to mumble a thank you. He smiled at me and to my astonishment brushed my cheek lightly with his finger. I felt another hot wave wash over me but this time it wasn’t one of relief it was one of pure desire. A feeling that was immediately followed by one of shame. What kind of girl was I to react that way to my brother’s touch?

Thomas must have sensed my confusion and embarrassment because he started the car and we made our way to the restaurant. As we walked into the restaurant he took my arm and looped it through his. I felt so proud walking into that place on the arm of my handsome brother. My delight came to an abrupt end when I realised that Thomas was well known in this restaurant, so there was a constant stream of people coming over to our table to talk to him. I noticed that most of these people were beautiful women who gushed all over him. They barely gave me a glance once they realised I was just his sister. I was obviously no competition for them. I started the evening feeling beautiful and happy but by dessert I was back to feeling like the drab colourless girl I really was. To my relief, Thomas refused the numerous invitations he received to go out for drinks after the meal. All I wanted was to go home and get out of those ridiculous clothes and wash off my makeup. But I still had the nightclub to endure and I was sure it would be just like the restaurant.

In the end it was much better than I expected. There were many people who knew Thomas but because we were dancing it wasn’t that easy for them to interrupt us. I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d persevered with dance lessons so I was completely comfortable on the dance floor. After a while other men came up to ask me to dance and I was soon being twirled around, laughing and flirting with several good-looking young men. I noticed that Thomas never strayed too far from me and I thought it was sweet of him to keep an eye on me.

As the evening wore on I danced less and less with Thomas and the other men and more with one particular man. His name was Kyle and he was 27, tall, with dark hair and eyes and the cutest dimple in one cheek. He flirted outrageously with me and paid me extravagant compliments. I had never before been the target of such a concentrated charm offensive and he was sweeping me off my feet. I probably drank more than I was used to because I was flirting right back and acting completely unlike my usual shy self. We found an unoccupied table and he ordered more drinks. As we talked, Kyle was tracing small circles on my knee and moving his hand slowly higher up my thigh. Normally I would have recoiled but tonight I was enjoying the attention and I made no move to stop him.

Suddenly Thomas was at my side telling me we had to leave immediately. I stuttered that I was having a good time and couldn’t we please stay a little longer but he was adamant that we had to leave now. He was completely unlike his normal smiling, charming self. Looking at his grim hard face I had a glimpse of what he must be like to deal with in the business world. This was not a man to cross and I had obviously displeased him.