Sister To The Rescue Ch 02

Saturday morning was, as usual, a bit of a crazy rush at the Simons' household. Dad had left early, to get the cheap Tee-time at the County golf course with his buddies, which was always kind of a relief for the rest of us, having his judgmental comments out of the way. I was wolfing down a big bowl of instant oatmeal before heading to the Rec Center, where I had managed to nail a summer job helping with their kids' camps. Mom was standing at the counter with her back to me, dressed in a tighter pair of pants than I recalled seeing her in. I guessed they were from the Cabri party she had gone to the Wednesday afternoon before. It was at her new friend's house, the friend from the book club, and she had got back a little flustered and just in time to make dinner. In fact she had put a finger to her lips to shush me from drawing Dad's attention away from the t.v., and then hustled upstairs with two bags which I assumed were full of clothes. Now she standing at the counter, humming and swaying her hips to her own tune, while finishing her list of errands for the day, and I guess the truth was that I was enjoying the rear view of this new pair of tightly-stretched pants across Mom's curved butt.

Then Mandy walked into the room, yawning and stretching her arms overhead.

My eyes were immediately pinned to her. The events of the previous night - the secret events, the two of us alone in my room, the revelations of intimate feelings torn open between us - came flooding back into my mind. But the truth is they had never really left. Rather, at the sight of her in the bright neon of the kitchen, I could no longer pretend they had been fantasy. Yes, last night with my sister had been real. As real as the teenager unselfconsciously stretching herself in front of me.

Mandy was wearing her old pair of giraffe pajamas. They were threadbare at the knees and elbows, the stitching had come loose at one shoulder, and they were now definitely too small. I knew they had always been a favorite of hers, soft cotton to the touch and patterned all over with bright pink and green prints of her favorite animal. Now, though, as she reached arms lazily overhead, forearms sliding out of the sleeves, the ragged hem of the pajama top rose up past her navel, revealing her ribs as she drew in a big inhale. I couldn't pull my eyes away from how the undersized top continued to rise as her young spine arched into a deep curve, showing the baby-soft skin just below her newly-budded breasts...

"Oh, I'm glad you are up", said Mom, her back turned from her. "I'm going to be gone all day on errands..."

Mandy's arms dropped to her sides. "But you promised we could go clothes shopping today!"

Mom turned around, and I could see her eye my sister up and down, but she said nothing about the skimpy covering. I guessed that, with Dad being out of the house, she didn't feel she needed to.

"I'm sorry. I just don't think it's going to work out. I didn't plan on having that house on 127th, the cape cod ranch, on having their sale fall through last week." Mom's real estate business, while in theory part-time, seemed to often take up more than a full-time part of her attention. But Dad sure appreciated the extra income.

Mandy stood at the threshold, pouting, her eyes on Mom. Which gave me more time to run my own gaze over her. My mind was as conflicted as the night before. Secrets shared had led to sexual-chemistry yawning open between us - a chemistry which had been as suddenly snapped shut by my own attack of conscience. Now, in the morning light, that inner conflict of my mind was parading before me in visual form. On the one hand, I was looking at my same pajama-clad little sister, the familiar pout on her mouth, a pout that I knew could turn at any moment into a radiant smile. She was cute and frustrating and adorable. On the other...I was looking at a girl who, if I allowed myself to see it, might be considered by someone else as compellingly sexy. Mousy hair, disheveled from sleep, cascaded over her shoulders. Her pout accentuated the sweet line of her lips, not full in the way of a movie star, but naturally colored and inviting. Her long neck outshone any of the playful giraffes printed across her comfortable night clothes. Tiny but high breasts lifted upward, her nipples pressing visibly against the thin cotton. The matching pants were now so short that her slender ankles were revealed up to mid-calf. Gone were the ultra-straight lines of childhood. In their place, subtly rounded thighs strained at the cloth, and so tightly around her hips that I could make out the mound of her pubis. More than that. Down the middle of her faded pajama bottoms, was that the shaded line of her slit itself, the threadbare pants drawn inward by my sister's deepening cleft? Or was I imagining this detail? Still intoxicated by the scent of her panties last night? And by the knowledge that she had left them for me to find? Either way, the line of her young but developing sex - slashing through the smile of a green giraffe - teased my eyes mercilessly. She seemed at the same time innocent...and raunchy.

Suddenly I realized that Mom was looking at me. I reddened, and turned back to the tupperware bowl of microwaved oatmeal.

"I said, guess you are working all day John, right?" Mom repeated.

I swallowed, doing my best to avoid more than a glance at the compelling vision of my sister. My mind was whirling. Why the hell not?

"Actually I'm off right after lunch," I responded casually. "Sure, I can take Mandy shopping."

Even in the corner of my vision, I saw my sister instantly transform. A huge smile swept across her face as she leaped up in her best imitation of the character Tigger from watching Winnie The Pooh cartoons.

"Yeah!" she exalted, bouncing across to hug me. I smiled, unable to resist the infectiousness of that grin.

"Really?" Mom said as enthusiastically. "Well, that's great. You can use my car, I can get a ride from Mrs Cliff. She'll do anything to fix this sale. I am glad. You two should spend more time together. Mandy, calm down. I've pulled out $200 from my allowance for you to get clothes for the break. Try not to bore your brother too much, ok?"

***

When I picked Mandy up after lunch, she was bubbly and excited. We had decided to head across town to a larger mall with more clothing stores. It would be a longer drive, but Mandy had been more than eager. She was wearing a rose-patterned summer dress, nice fitting, and it showed off her calves as she had skipped across the driveway to where I had leaned over from the driver's seat and pushed open the car door. I sure didn't mind the idea of extra time with her. I rolled down the windows and she cruised through the pop radio stations, both of us singing out loud.

But as we were driving onto the wide parking lot, Mandy suddenly became more subdued. I switched off the engine, but instead of hopping out, she just sat there, looking ahead through the windscreen, a little crease above her forehead. I paused, waiting for her, a little catch in my chest.

"John. About last night." My chest tightened further. "Did I...did I do something wrong for you? Put you off somehow?"

"Oh Mandy!" I reached out for her hand and she turned to look at me. Her face was quiet but I was relieved to see that her eyes were dry. Words tumbled out of me.

"Oh, no way. You were so, so special. It was special. Really, believe me. I love that you came to my bedroom to check on me." I could see her eyes on me and knew that she wanted more specific reassurance. "That you stayed. That you...cared so much. About Alison."

"And about you," she said softly.

My throat caught, but I managed to squeak out "Yes."

"I just, wasn't sure, John, afterwards. If I had grossed you out in some way, you know, girls and cooties and stuff..."

"Oh my God, no, Mandy. You were so...so beautiful. I...I loved how you touched...yourself."

"How I touched my pussy?"

"Y...yes"

Mandy's face had brightened. She leaned in a little closer and I was caught by a gleam in her eye.

"And you weren't grossed out by my panties?"

"Oh God no. Especially not those."

She freed her fingers from mine and trailed them up my forearm.

"So you still like smelling my used panties, John?" So like my little sister. So direct, so capable of drawing me out.

I was torn. Shouldn't I go slow with my confusing desire for my sister? I was only just beginning to acknowledge it to myself. But I couldn't deny the actual events of last night. And if I tried...I knew how she would whittle away at any secret, not seeming to care about getting anything out of it beyond my openness to her.

Safer to give in, at least on the surface. "Yes, Mandy. I love smelling your panties."

"My used panties," she corrected. "My wet-girl panties." Her eyes were shining now as she drew closer.

I felt trapped. Deliciously trapped. "Yes, Mandy. I love smelling your wet-girl panties."

Mandy's eyes beamed with victory. And a mischievous glint.

"And stroking yourself off in them? I found them in the hamper this morning. Tucked underneath Mommy's bra and slip."

I groaned, biting my lip. Clearly my sister would brook no secrets between us. Her eyes were still on mine.

"Yes Mandy. It was...it was the only relief I wanted after you had left last night."

"And when you came all over them, all over my pink panties, were you thinking about...Alison?"

She was closer than ever. Even though I would only have to whisper, I couldn't get the words out from behind my lips.

No, not Alison. You.

But I'm sure she could see it in my eyes. She leaned over and touched her lips to mine, as if sealing the unspoken words between us.

Suddenly her door was open and she was shaking out her dress in the summer sunshine.

"Well, John, are you gonna take me shopping or what?"

***

A couple of hours later, we had gone through four different stores. She had spent most of Mom's $200, getting tops and skirts. I knew I probably looked a bit out of place following her around with, by the end, three different bags over my arm, but I was having fun seeing a mall through her eyes.

"Hey, let's take a break," I said, pointing toward the food court. "Caramel milkshake still your favorite?"

She smiled, but then looked down quizzically at the remainder of Mom's money in her purse.

"My treat," I clarified. "Big money job over at the Rec Center, you know."

She smiled in that open-hearted way that had always tugged at me when, as a little girl, she had sought big brother's attention. Today, though, I felt that tug more than ever. Was it the relaxed summer's afternoon together? Or that, still pulsing inside me, were the effects of last night? Of her pleasuring herself as she lay in my bed? I shook my head to clear the image even as I followed her toward the dairy counter.

We sat on stools overlooking the lower level of the mall, sucking on our respective choices, caramel for her and vanilla for me. We weren't talking but I felt so good. Just out of playfulness, I turned over the receipt which I had plopped down on the counter, and using the ball-point I keep in my back pocket, scrawled across it so she could see.

Hope you are enjoying your lunch today - J

It was an old thing for us, in fact at that moment I wasn't sure if Mandy would even remember it. When she had first started going to primary school, reading had been a snap, but for some reason writing had been slow. It was like she didn't feel it was important . She had once told me - in her child-pitched yet seriously thoughtful voice - that if all she could do was read, well then...she still had all the stories sitting waiting for her in the library. The teachers just couldn't seem to motivate her. Then one day, when Mom had finished her lunchbox, I had slipped inside it a simple note. I had signed it J, not even sure at the time why I wasn't using my full name. That afternoon after school, Mandy had been so excited. She couldn't wait to show me the note. She had scrawled a big smiley face and a wobbly letter M across my words.

"Look John, I can write too!" she had beamed.

From then on, for quite some time, maybe a year, I had slipped a note into her lunchbox every day. Just something simple, like what the weather was. And that was the year she learned to write, never failing to add her own, increasingly long and thoughtful responses, always signed with the letter M. We never mentioned it to Mom. There didn't seem any particular reason for secrecy, it just seemed our private conversation, and I guess in our kid's brains, the simple J and M became like our code. I'm not even sure when or why it ended. I guess at some point I just moved on to other things.

Now, Mandy looked over my shoulder at the note. I could feel her pause. I looked up at her face, but it was cloudy somehow and she wouldn't meet my eye. It looked like she was struggling with some memory. I felt bad, and made to scrumple up the receipt. Her hand shot out and pulled it out of my grasp.

"Oh, don't worry, I remember," she said, her voice brightening, though her eyes still looked moist. "Lend me your pen."

She took the ball-point and wrote over the top of my script, half covering it with her hand so I could only briefly see it.

Luv u - M

She paused as if about to add more, and then herself suddenly balled up the receipt in her hand, and, returning my pen, gave me her best attempt at a smile. She stood up.

"Ready?"

We cruised the mall some more, window shopping rather than going into stores. Mandy seemed back to her usual self. Then I suddenly realized that she had dropped behind me. We were walking past a high end store and I saw Sis caught short by the display in the window. I turned to check out what she was seeing. A slim-fitting blue cocktail dress with spaghetti straps was centrally displayed on a glamorous manikin. Even I could see that it's tailored lines and silky sheen spoke one word -

chic.

I caught my sister's eye, and she smiled at me. But then made a tiny shrug with her mouth, a little down flick of the eyes. I wasn't sure what she meant until I followed her gaze to see the shop attendant standing just inside the entryway, leaning on one hip and looking straight at us with a bored expression.

Yup. Now I got it. Two teenagers cruising the mall. Not exactly their clientele.

It took the wind out of my sails a bit, I admit. I had been feeling pretty proud - taking Mandy around the stores, acting as if I was some kind of new boyfriend. And since this was the other side of town, no-one would know different. But suddenly, the afternoon felt far from some teenage remake of the Rodeo Drive scene in Pretty Woman.

Get a grip John, you're no Richard Gere,

I thought now, ruefully. Sure, I guess I do stand tall. But I was dressed exactly who I was - the jeans and t-shirt of a Freshman home for the summer. And in my pocket were a handful of crumpled $10 bills and an uncashed check from the Rec Center.

And then I glanced at Mandy, and guessed that she had some of that same deflation. Or maybe she had simply wanted to try on the dress. And as I glanced at her through the corner of my eye, I thought, damn it! Sure, she's no Julia Roberts either. No big teeth and super-wide features. And too much the figure of a girl-becoming-woman to pull off the hollywood sex symbol. But I was beginning to realize that, when it comes to the girl-next-door look, she's as good as it gets. Genuine smile. Long slender legs that makes it hard to say where her hips start and supple torso begins. And a sparkle in the eye that can play every tune from mischievous to melt-your-heart.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I damn well wanted to see her in that dress.

I reached out, took her by the hand, and walked into that store like I owned it.

"Good afternoon," I told the surprised assistant. "I'm interested in evening wear for my girl." I squeezed Mandy's hand and felt a tremulous firming in response.

She was still hesitant, though. Once the attendant's back was turned, she flipped over the tag of the dress and again made a face. I was undeterred.

"Please, just try it," I said quietly. "For me," I added.

That drew out her most dazzling smile, and she let the still bored attendant pick out a size

petite

and head over toward the dressing rooms. That gave me enough time to stand around and feel awkward, interspersed by some wandering around that led me uncannily to the lingerie rack and feeling even more awkward. Although I confess something caught my eye. But pretty soon I had turned around and had my hands determinedly in my pockets and my eyes kind of unfocused in the middle distance.

Which lasted until my sister stepped out of the dressing room, the attendant standing behind her, apparently now more hopeful of a sale. If the first thing that caught my attention was Sis's huge smile, it was quickly drawn instead to the tailored blue cloth clinging to her slender body. Wow. More than wow. Mandy looked at me with - if possible - an even bigger smile, and I realized what it meant...and closed my own mouth. I swallowed.

"So," she said, a mix of coquettish and uncertain. "Does it fit?"

I groaned inside. It was possibly the lamest line ever, given that every detail of her small breasts and slim hips were somehow both revealed and yet at the same time smoothed into a luscious curve. Even I knew the dress was not just expensive, but classy.

And she? She was the classiest part of it.

It was my little sister all right. Equal parts perky and vulnerable. And yet I felt like I was seeing her for the first time. Or perhaps it was just that I was really admitting to myself what the male part of my brain had been seeing ever since I had gotten home for summer break. Her gangly limbs had become slender thighs and calves. Her bony shoulders were revealed by the spaghetti straps as a delicate yet toned upper body. Her neck was the same gracious curve as ever. And her tight young breasts lifted the front of that dress in a way that made me physically ache. Suddenly my mouth was filled with the taste from the previous night - the taste of my little sister's juice-laced nipple thrust between my lips. Involuntarily, I felt my whole body spasm.

Mandy did a slow twirl for me, her eyes on my face the whole time. If I could have stopped time then I would have - I had never felt like this with a girl before. Both struck dumb, and yet somehow still confidently standing in her gaze.

But time doesn't stop of course, and she slipped back into the dressing room with a parting - what was it? Almost like a little kiss. I shook my head. And when she emerged she took my hand but whispered quickly, "ok, John, let's get out of here before she gets too snotty with us for not buying anything."

But instead, still holding her hand, I walked her over to the lingerie rack, where there was prominently displayed a pair of black silk panties with a purple trim. Not a stripper-looking thong like you see in the display of Victoria Secret (yes, I've looked) but with a sheer, full-panelled rear that was tailored in two halves to fit snug over a girl's cheeks. And in front a tasteful vee of shimmering silk. The first thing it had made me think of, when I had spotted it earlier, was a plushly-lined jewel box, the kind used to present something precious like diamond earrings. And the second thing was marveling how that darkly-toned fabric was perfectly suited to display the pearls of cream, the juice from the most intimate part of my sister's body, her unseen-by-me but often fantasized cleft.

Mandy reached for the tag, but for once I was ahead of her and put my thumb over it. I had done the math while she had been in the dressing room, and, keeping my hand in my jeans pocket, had carefully counted out all but one of my $10 bills.