It seemed pretty obvious that today was more important to Mom than it was to Dad. It was his fiftieth birthday and as far as he was concerned it was just another day. Despite Mom's insistence that he take the day off from work, he dutifully left the house early that morning, going through his usual work-day. Not to be dismayed Mom had planned a massive surprise party for when he returned that evening, streamers, balloons, huge cake, the works. She even conspired with friend and family to carpool and park a block away so that a suspicious increase in cars parked on our street wouldn't give it away. What can I say? When Mom got into something, she really went all out. Most of our local family was set to arrive later while Mom, my sister and I finished setting things up.
"Nathan, go help your sister with the decorations in the living room, we're running out of time!"
To Mom, three hours was cutting it close for putting up party decorations.
My sister, Rachel, was home from college that summer after things fell apart with a boyfriend she shared an apartment with. I think his name was Rob? He never came around and I heard enough from Dad that college romance never lasted, so I never really kept track of her boyfriends. I had just finished high school in the spring and had just returned from a Senior trip to Washington D.C. I had made it home just in time for the longest heatwave in recent history to sweep through the mid-atlantic. Where D.C was hitting triple digits, we were blessed with only the low-nineties. It's the little things. It only took two days before my sister and I had given up on wearing normal clothes. The less we had on, the better. The central air had never worked all that well, so gym shorts and thin cotton shirts were the way to go. If it wasn't for Dad's party, and an earful from Mom, I wouldn't be wearing a shirt at all. How Mom was wearing her blouse and slacks, I had no idea. Rachel and I didn't share Mom's penchant for modesty, preferring a mantra of comfort over convention. Nudity and wearing next to nothing didn't phase us, though I guess she was right that we should dress, or at least be dressed, for the occasion.
Rachel and I had managed to resist her dress-code somewhat and wore what worked for the heat. Rachel stood up on a dining chair, reaching up to the living room ceiling to tack up one end of an all black streamer. At five foot four she had to perch up on her toes to reach high enough. She had on this pair of neon pink running shorts that seemed way too short to be at all practical. Her dirty-blonde hair was up in a 'good-enough' ponytail and as she stretched she called over shoulder,
"Why again am I doing this? You're the tall one."
"I'm afraid I'm afflicted with a chronic lack of ambition," I quipped as I came over to help her
At six-two I grabbed the streamer from her and easily tacked in place.
"Oh, eat a dick, Nate" Mom was always getting after her for her foul mouth.
I chuckled as I turned away from her and was no more than two steps away before I felt her small frame hanging off my shoulders, she had kicked the chair over as she leapt off onto my back in another one of her only-fun-for-her forced piggy-back rides.
"Knock it off!" Yelled mom from the adjoining kitchen.
"Sorry Mom!" shouted Rachel in response, directly into my right ear.
"Gah! I'd like to keep my hearing past my nineteenth birthday. Shit." I griped at her while I worked an index finger in my ear, trying to relieve the slight ringing. "Your tit's out, by the way."
In climbing down my back her tank top had worked itself around one of her breasts, pulling the ample globe up and out over the strap. Like I said, nudity wasn't a big deal. I didn't blame her for not wearing a bra on a day like today, anyhow. She readjusted herself without any hint of embarrassment and surveyed the decorations.
"I think we're pretty much done here. Balloons, streamers, all the 'over the hill' tableware we could ever want."
"That's good because I think people are already here. Mom's talking to someone in the kitchen."
Mom's sister had arrived and they were chittering over whatever meal Mom had planned for the event that Dad didn't even want. Soon family friends began to stream in and we new everyone had made it when I spotted Dad's brother, Frank, outside finishing his cigarette before coming in.
Mom had planned this party in such great detail that she had made up a diagram of exactly where each and every one of the twenty-something guests were going to hide. The whole operation elicited grins from some, exaggerated eye-rolls from others, and a disgruntled mumble from Uncle Frank. Rach and I knew better than to object when Mom got herself involved in something like this. Mom's OCD dragged the process out over the better part of an hour and when everyone was placed perfectly behind curtains and couches, Mom instructed my sister and I to hide inside the closet. It was getting close to the time that Dad would be home and we needed to hurry up. Only the closet in the living room was barely big enough to hold the piles of boxes and seldom-used jackets that were already in there, so there was no way this was going to work. Mom insisted despite our protest and opened the folding closet door and shoved us inside.
"Just do what you have to do to make room and don't you dare ruin this surprise for your father!" She kept her tone low enough that no one else heard her, but it was clear that this was not the time to test her patience. We forced our way through miscellaneous 'family treasures' until there was enough space for the two of us to exist. I went in first so I was fortunate to have the clear spot against the left-hand wall, Rachel, however, wasn't so lucky. Junk was piled up so that she had to stand with her legs straddling a box that came up to her mid thigh, a situation that was hardly comfortable and far from ideal.
"Hang on, Nate." She said as she awkwardly bent forward to pick up the box, suddenly thrust her butt against my crotch. She apologized with a grunt as she lifted the box onto a pile of boxes directly in front of her. It was cramped, but at least she had room to stand. So what if it was directly in front of me with her butt wedged against me. My sister and I were close, but I'm not sure either of us was entirely comfortable with actively grinding on each other. It was hot in the house, this was an oven. The air was stifling and ninety degrees outside felt like one hundred twenty in here. In moments we were both sweating profusely. I was soaking wet, wedged behind my sister and the only way I could think this could have been any worse is if I did what virile eighteen year old boys do, so naturally, I started getting hard. Knowing what was likely about to happen I had to get myself a little breathing room.
"Rach, can you scoot forward a little bit?"
"Not really, Nate, I'm hugging a tower of boxes and standing on something as it is. Dad'll be home soon, so just deal."
Being the eldest at twenty, she always got the full bront of Mom's wrath when things didn't go her way, so Rachel was committed to make things go smoothly no matter how uncomfortable things were. I was stuck, trying to think the least sexy things possible. Of course the first thing I think of is Alison Fletcher.
