Chapter 1: Our Family's History
Caution: This Young-Adult Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/ft, Consensual, Romantic, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humor, Incest, Brother, Sister, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Lactation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Tit-Fucking, Nudism, .
Desc: Young-Adult Sex Story: Chapter 1: Our Family's History - Two kids with gobs of money - They couldn't possibly have problems, could they? Well, coming from a family with a history of tragic deaths? Can Jason and Julia make sure that the O'Connell clan survives another generation?
I looked around if anyone had witnessed my frustrated sigh, but the coffee-break talk between Trish and Marlene, that I had involuntarily overheard, had made it abundantly clear that nobody had any interest in socializing with me right now. That's why I was alone in my office. I rubbed my face with the palms of my hands, wondering what in god's name these people were expecting from a twenty-two-year-old orphan in control of a multi-national company. Did they expect me to be happy, even though we lost our parents just four years ago, celebrating this inane "Nude Day" malarkey with them? Well, apparently they did, according to Trish and Marlene.
As ever in the case of 'Julia getting her knickers in a twist' as my little brother Jason would say, I called him, asking if he had time to talk. At this very moment he was preparing his plane to fly back from Toronto to Burbank, having inspected a Canadian aircraft he wants to buy for his little airline project, but he said he'd be home by the evening and invited me to have dinner with him. Even though I need to use them more often than I like, I hate aircraft, because the only thing I associate with these infernal machines is death and grief. Our parents died four years ago when their private jet crashed on approach to Burbank airport.
It was a manufacturing flaw that had made all three engines on Dad's plane flame out, and the manufacturer paid twenty-five million dollars in damages. I'm sure some people think it is a fair price for the life of two loved ones, but first of all, their death left us with more than ten times as much money to begin with and no money in the world would change the fact that Jason and I are now the only survivors of the O'Connell clan. I'm sure we could find a few utterly remote cousins a dozen times removed back in Ireland or Blighty, but the fact was, the continuation of the O'Connell blood-line did now hinge on Janson's and my ability to evade the almost ridiculous bad luck of our family long enough to have or adopt kids should we ever find a partner. We were both single.
Our grand-parents, the first O'Connells to emigrate to America had both died in the late eighties of last century, neither of them even close to retirement age. Grandpa Mick lost the short fight with a vicious case of Leukaemia and his death seemed to have robbed Grandma of any will to live. Three months after his death mom found grandma dead in her bed. In the night her broken heart had simply stopped beating. The most obvious part of their legacy is that even in the third generation, we still have a distinct British accent, despite being born in the US of A. Some American slang mixed in over the years, but we are still mistaken for British ex-pats occasionally.
Long before his cruel death Grandpa Mick had started "O'Connell Business Consulting Inc.", an IT and Business company, founded at a time when computers were still weighing tons. It laid the foundation of our wealth and after his death our father took over Grandpa's business and expanded it into a multi-national company, employing twelve-thousand people in Pasadena, Washington, London and Hanover in Germany. And when that plane-crash killed my parents, I suddenly found myself in charge of it, just eighteen and a half years old, and a freshman at Berkeley. I majored in business administration, as I was always slated to take over from dad, but at the time that should have been ten years in the future. Instead I was then also thrust into the role of ersatz-mum for my then fifteen-year-old brother.
During the time I was attending College, I simply appointed an external expert to lead the company as an authorized representative, but after graduation I took over myself, just twenty-one years old. And in between I also had to nurse Jason back onto his feet. He'd been devastated by our parents' death even more than I. Well, at least in this regard being a rich kid paid off. Every second day I would take a ninety minutes' helicopter flight home, and the next morning back to Berkeley in order to be with my baby brother. My college time cost several million as a result, but money is not the issue for us. The rest of the time he was looked after by our housekeeper Hanna, a Hungarian immigrant who is a graduated art teacher, but had had no luck finding such a job after coming to the States. Thankfully she loved her current job with us, even if it was nominally 'below' a teacher's standards, and she was absolutely doting on Jason.
Hanna, in a way, is the bane and boon of my life. As an art teacher she was a perfect match as a nanny for my little brother, as he's a wannabe Picasso himself, but she never was much of an authoritarian person, deciding instead that Jason would heal better if he had a really good friend, even if she was ten years his senior. Whenever a 'no' needed to be handed out as an answer, that job fell to me. The three and a half years until Jason turned eighteen, fifteen months ago, were an endless game of 'good cop, bad cop'. Guess which one I was. Thankfully that didn't cause any friction between Jason and I. In fact, for all his teenage silliness, I think there's a very smart brain residing between his ears and he knows and accepts that I was only doing what had to be done.
Quite recently I found out that my dear brother and Hanna are really good friends. I've been living in my own house since Jason is old enough to live on his own. The reason for that is simple. Both Hanna and Jason share a particular penchant of our late mother – they have no understanding of the concept of clothing. I think our mother never wore clothes except when she left the house and even then only when she left it through the front door. You could say our estate is California's largest nudist resort and I hate being naked or being around naked people, especially if one of them is my brother. It was fun until I was fourteen, but then puberty hit with full force and nothing creeps you out more than seeing your ten-year old brother ogle his sister skinny-dipping in the pool.
Mind you, Jason isn't a creep. I wasn't really angry with him, because I'm intelligent enough to know that this is what happens with boys when they see a well-shaped body. I'm self-confident enough to admit that I look very good, even if nobody ever gets to see my body in anything but full clothing. He and Hanna also wear full clothing whenever I'm visiting and in return I make sure I never drop by unannounced. We know that we have widely different opinions on the matter, but Jason and I accept our differences and respect each other's life-style.
Actually, it's not entirely true. I did drop by unannounced, once, about two months ago. My phone battery had died and I couldn't call in beforehand. When the doorbell wasn't answered I gathered that Hanna and Jason might be out shopping and used my code to enter, and god almighty, I walked straight into a scene I wouldn't have expected ever, even though perhaps I should have. Jason and Hanna were lying on a large blanket on the lawn behind the house and he was shagging the daylights out of Hanna's bum. By the sound of it, both loved it, considering that the noises they'd made wouldn't have been out of place on a farm. No wonder they hadn't heard the doorbell or even noticed that I was standing right there on the terrace, shocked out of my mind. And I realized something else – Bloody Nora, was my little brother not little. How Hanna had inserted Jason's large rod into her bottom without suffering catastrophic internal bleeding eluded my imagination.
I've never driven over the speed limit, but that day, having run back out Jason's home, I left a contrail. Had any cop crossed my path on the way back home, I would have ended up in a penal colony for the rest of my life. I ran into my house, frantically reaching for the first Vibrator with batteries in it and pounded the raw stuffing out of my pussy for an hour straight until I had climaxed four times and my brain had turned to goo.
At least after the experience I was stupefied long enough to almost forget about the fact that I had just wildly masturbated over the image of my little brother shagging the housemaid.
I had been living like a nun for four years, but that had had different reasons. Everyone thinks I'm a prude, but in reality I've done things that would make Jason and Hanna look tame. The problem is, I don't remember when, where and with whom, because I was sodding drunk every time.
A few days later I had worked up the gumption to take Hanna aside for a talk about her intentions towards my brother. In hindsight I must admit that I had subconsciously hoped they might have fallen in love with each other, because both Jason and I do not have much luck dating. Hanna was very contrite about having been inattentive enough to prevent me from walking into it, but I assured her that it was my fault for not having called in beforehand. I actually assured her that I was not angry about what had happened as long as it was consensual.
Hanna admitted that she'd been having sex regularly with Jason since his eighteenth birthday. She'd fancied him since he was sixteen, and Jason would have been more than willing to indulge her, but her green card was too precious to her to endanger it by having sex with a minor. But the moment he turned old enough, well, apparently my little brother had a very entertaining eighteenth birthday. I got the impression that Hanna's feelings might run a bit deeper than just 'fancying' him, but she told me – swearing me to secrecy – that she thought Jason was secretly in love with someone, but apparently she had never tried to probe for more details. She called it her female intuition.
I would definitely need to keep an eye on that. For people as wealthy as us, it was easy to get caught up with people who loved our money much more than us. It's no coincidence that the only sex I had had for the last four years had been with various vibrators.
But for now I had my own conundrum to sort out.
Aw, the joys of watching the Shores Of Americay from thirty-two thousand feet above...
That day when I turned eighteen had opened the flood gates big time in more than one regard. I wasn't even out of bed yet when Hanna started to introduce me to the fact that there is more to sex than putting part A into slot B, waking me up with a very gentle blow-job. Let's just say the day went on quite interestingly and I was a changed man by the time I fell into bed that night with my nuggets emptied properly and repeatedly. I've never been that exhausted in my life.
But I also started getting my driving license and my pilot license and I'm happy to report that I am now a commercially rated pilot, as of two weeks ago. As I flew back from Toronto I used the view below to take my mind off worrying about Julia's call. She had sounded really upset. I knew she hated aeroplanes, but she'd assured me that my first solo-flight in command of a Cessna Citation was not the reason for her upset. I hadn't been much better than her after the plane crash that claimed our parents' lives. But I was reasoning that even with our family's almost legendary bad luck the chances that two generations of O'Connells would be wiped out by air disasters were too low, so the best way to ensure I would make it past thirty years of age, would be flying.
It started when I was sixteen. In his will dad had bequeathed his beloved De Havilland Beaver and his Cessna Caravan to me. Even though I still needed Julia's consent as she had custody of me, and it was hard to get considering the accident, I registered an airline with the FAA and the two planes started doing cargo flights for DHL and FedEx. I couldn't help but think that dad had bequeathed the planes on me for a reason. Julia was always headed towards a managerial career and Dad's favourite candidate to take over from him one day, but most likely he wanted to instil some business sense into me as well. I certainly had none at the time, being an idealistic artist.
I certainly caught the bug. After being taken on a sight-seeing flight with a local company, I was hooked and ran off to get my PPL and then the instrument rating, everything I could get without having to be eighteen already. I'm not one for large-scale thousands-of-employees' economics like Julia can juggle every day, but something like ten or twelve planes one day is something I'm shooting for.
Everybody was questioning my sanity when the first large plane I bought to join the Caravan and the Beaver was a Russian three-engined Tupolev TU-154M, a plane that seats 158 people in a two-class layout. It guzzles more fuel than an alcoholic during a piss-up in a brewery, but it was one of the last examples built in 2007. It was practically new and designed to be able to operate from barely developed strips in Siberia. There is nothing better suited to fly into Alaskan airports in winter. No western plane provides more bang for the buck and my little company won a ridiculously lucrative charter contract from a well-known oil company to fly workers from all over America to various places in Alaska. Even specialists like Bering Air shake their heads in disbelief about some of the places we can safely fly into with 158 people in the back of a plane the size of a Boeing 737. Too bad I still had to wait until I was 21 to become an ATP rated pilot.
That day, when Julia called, I was on my way back from Toronto where I had signed a memorandum of understanding to buy two relatively new 737-800s from WestJet. I wanted to send one of them to Fairbanks in Alaska for scheduled flights to Magadan, Markovo and Anadyr in Russia – all places well developed enough to warrant using something more refined than the Russian plane and the second one was meant for charters to the Caribbean out of Burbank. The Citation I was currently sitting in was a recent addition and would be permanently chartered by Julia's company, so she and her upper management would have something proper to travel in when it was necessary to visit their other offices. I actually looked forward to being her pilot for some of the trips to Washington, London or Hanover. I felt like we barely spent any time with each other any more.
You see, I love my sister, as much as a brother is allowed to love his sister. Well frankly, I love her much more than that, but you can't admit that without people thinking you are a creep. Without her I would probably never have gotten over the death of our parents. It must have taken a lot for her to overcome the inherent weirdness of allowing her fifteen-year-old brother to sleep in her bed in those first few weeks, just holding me in her arms as we often cried ourselves to sleep together.
Air Traffic Control contacted me with instructions to start my descent and in about an hour I'd be back on terra firma. I fired off a message to Hanna asking her to be properly clothed and prepare for Julia's visit when I returned home. There'd be no 'welcome shag' upon my return. But if my big sister was in trouble, having fun with Hanna was the last thing on my mind anyway.
When I arrived at our family estate, now Jason's property, I could see he was home already. There is only one Ferrari 612 Scaglietti in town with 'O'Connell Airlines' painted on its sides. It's a good thing we live in America where all acts of tastelessness are considered normal. In Europe they would have drawn and quartered him for the sheer blasphemy of desecrating a Ferrari like that. But that's just my little brother. He doesn't care much about the opinion of other people.
But I cared about his opinion, especially now. With my employees secretly disenchanted about something as silly as the demise of the 'Nude Day' that dad had apparently celebrated every year, I needed the opinion of someone for whom going naked was the rule rather than the exception. That's a description that fits my brother quite accurately.
Since I had announced my visit properly beforehand, Hanna was decently clothed and met me with a smile. Like Jason she was simply accepting of the fact that I did not share their propensity for nudism and casual sex. It was a matter of mutual respect. I did not comment on their choices and they never tried to talk me into joining their liberal ways. Sometimes I wish more people would be like that. My office crew was obviously not quite as understanding of my decision not to celebrate that silly Nude Day.
The dinner was excellent, as always. Even though Hanna had quite an appetite for my brother's body, she was first and foremost a maid, and a very good one at that. The house was always in perfect condition and her cooking was making me envious. I'm sure she could have found a job as a teacher by now, but the fact that she was still around after six years meant that she obviously liked working for Jason. The generous pay and my brother's willingness, well eagerness really, to indulge her certainly played a part in that decision too.
Jason told her that she could call it a day after she had cleaned the dishes and served us wine. With a grateful kiss on his cheek she left.
"What happened, sis? It takes quite a bit to unsettle you like that."
Jason was sipping his wine and he patiently waited for me to come up with a response. He was the only person I could openly talk to.
"Did you know that Dad celebrated a 'Nude Day' every year in his office?"
Jason smiled. "Well not in his office, but yeah, I knew. He took the whole crew to an island in the bay on June 14th every year. That island still belongs to us, but I guess it could use a bit more work than just mowing the lawn by now. Nobody's been there since dad's last Nude Day with the crew, that means five years by now."
"He took you there?" I asked, quite surprised about this wealth of new information. That at least explained why there was more property listed in the company books than we had offices.
"He took me once," my brother confirmed. "I was still a kid and with the adults minding their own business I was bored stiff. Too bad I was only eight and too young to appreciate the abundance of young female bodies on display. Your staff isn't exactly old, being that barely anyone stays in that job until thirty before moving on to even more lucrative offers."
"What business did they ... mind," I asked, not sure if I was keen on an answer or if I should dread it.
"Well, normal outdoor stuff. A barbecue, lots of beer and wine. I remember they did karaoke, which was quite funny with some of the, let's say bustier ladies, trying to perform with their Bristols getting in the way constantly. There was limbo too, where aforementioned ladies didn't do too well either, and a number of cabins as well. Dad had forbidden that I go anywhere near them, but when he didn't look I sneaked up to one. It should take me a few more years to realize that the sounds I'd heard did not mean the lady had hurt herself."
Jason was grinning as he recalled that particular memory, but suddenly his amusement vanished and he looked at me.
"Are you concerned about that day? I'd thought you didn't continue that particular tradition."
"I didn't, but it appears that this greatly aggrieves my staff. Today I overheard two of our consultants and they said how much better things were when dad was still around and how I was a spoiled princess who is way too much above such things as spending 'Nude Day' with her subjects."
I actually started to sniffle slightly, remembering the reference to dad and in an instant Jason was sitting next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders to comfort me.
"What your two consultants did was very unprofessional," he said. "Which is too bad, because they had a good point, but ruined it with the sniping remark about dad."
"What do you mean, they had a point?"
Jason looked at me. "Look, your people have to work to a myriad of rules, dress codes and there's a strict hierarchy. You can't even afford casual Fridays because there's always clients around. Nude Day isn't an invention of dad. It started in 2003 in New Zealand I think. But he adopted it, because for one day it allowed his people to let their hair down. When all are naked there is no way to tell the boss from the janitor. For that one single day dad wasn't Mr. O'Connell, but Paddy to everyone."
"So you say I should take them to that Island and go naked with them so they can all me Julia for one day?"
I actually started shivering in fear as I said it, and Jason tightened his embrace.
"Let them have their one day of freedom," he said. "Nobody says you have to take part. Dad never made participation obligatory. Those who didn't want to take part simply stayed home and had a normal day off."
That sounded like a good idea, except that it would still reinforce my employees' opinion about me being an aloof princess. Why did dad have to be so damn gregarious? My brother seemed to have the same thought.
"On the other hand it could do you some good if you started unwinding a bit, maybe challenge yourself. You've done a great job since mum and dad have passed. You've raised me, you graduated from college and took control of the family business at an age when other girls still go clubbing all the time. But now, you also need to look after yourself or one day you'll be burnt out."
"And you think going naked is the way to go?" I asked back. The thought of ditching my clothes in front of other people stressed me out, but I couldn't help a bit of amusement seeping into my voice.
"You're too hung up on your fear of being naked, sis," he said. "Sure, you used to like skinny-dipping back in the day and for some reason you don't any more, but that's not the point. Using a sporting analogy, peeling off your business suit with your people on that island would be the 1.500 meters in a decathlon, the supreme and final discipline. There's nine other disciplines beforehand."
"I think you've lost me there," I admitted. "I know what a decathlon is and it starts with a 100 meters sprint, but what does that have to do with me and my situation."
"The whole decathlon is called is called 'looking out for yourself'. Dad introduced the Nude Day as the ultimate opportunity for the folks, and himself, to relax. But of course you cannot understand, much less appreciate the possibilities of that day, if you haven't done the other disciplines yet. When have you done something the last time purely for the fun of it? In the last four years, have you ever gone out, done something goofy or something as silly as getting sloshed?"
"I can hardly afford to get drunk, Jason. I have the responsibility for twelve-thousand people and their livelihoods. I must be at my best every day."
It was exactly as I had thought. My sister was so caught up in her obsession to do everything right, she had convinced herself that every sort of fun would just take the focus away from doing the best possible job she could. But while she did a stellar job as the CEO, her people skills were lacking and that was in no small part caused by the fact that Julia had effectively removed herself from any sort of social life.
I refilled our wine glasses, earning a questioning look from her. Well, it was time she started her decathlon. I severely doubted that my dear prudish sister would ever make it to the start of the final discipline, but that wasn't the purpose of the exercise anyway. She needed to start relaxing some way or the other, else the next O'Connell would be claimed by a heart-attack or burnout syndrome.
"Julia," I addressed her as I put the now half-empty bottle back on the table. "I only have thirty-five employees, but nonetheless mine is a business that involves a lot of money, too. It has never suffered just because I got pissed the night before when I've been out with one of the few friends I have. Hanna will just let me sleep a little longer, fix me a proper breakfast and I go into the office at lunch time. The company won't implode just because I arrive three hours later. I didn't recruit my office manager to be useless when I'm not around."
She looked at me as if I had just admitted to a penchant for stabbing cute furry animals.
"Today, dear sister of mine, you'll get hogwashly bladdered, just so can you see it won't kill your business if you have a bit of fun." With that I handed my flabbergasted sibling her glass and we drank our wine.
"And what purpose should that serve other than giving me a splitting headache in the morning?"
Her stern voice told me everything I needed to know. Julia was still stuck at being my Ersatz-mum, forgetting that she'd successfully completed that job when I'd turned eighteen.
"I have nefarious motives," I admitted. "Frankly, you are so caught up in your quest for perfection, you completely seclude yourself from everyone. You never drop by just to see me. There's always a reason, else you don't show up. I know more about your business than I know about you any more. For tonight I want to spend an evening with my big sister, because she needs to get her mind off that damned business of hers. And the only way to do that is to get you drunk."
"I can't drink too much, Jason. It would lead to problems you can't even begin to imagine."
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it wasn't hard to guess that there was a story in it.
"You are an aggressive drunk?" I stabbed in the dark. I knew a few people who were perfectly pleasant to be around, but once they had a few drinks they turned into truly obnoxious idiots.
I started wondering at what temperature human skin would spontaneously catch fire as my poor sister was surely approaching that point. Her face was flushed in all shades of crimson.
"I'm a drunk slut, Jason," she said so quickly as if she hoped I wouldn't understand her words. And despite her admission, she hastily downed the rest of her wine in one go. "You might think I've never had sex, but that's not true. I've had loads of it, just not very good one. It can't have been good, else I would remember it. I don't even remember losing my virginity because I was too pissed to remember whom I had seduced that night in a drunken stupor. I only realized it had happened, when I woke up on bedsheets that looked like the Japanese flag."
It was a massive confession, especially coming from Julia, who barely spoke about her private life.
"First of all, sis, you are not a slut," I told her emphatically. "A slut would get herself drunk every night just so she could have more sex. You are simply out of control when drunk and it's a good thing you told me. Now I know to look out for you at any social functions where alcohol is served. And perhaps you should tell some of your most trusted employees too, so someone can look out for you."
"I can't tell them that. I'm already embarrassed enough having told you."
"You don't have to give them the exact details," I said with a chuckle. "Just let them know that you're difficult after a drink too many. That way other people can protect you. Let's say you are at a reception with an important client and one of them offers small-talk over a glass of wine and you already had some. You could drink it to avoid offending and risk embarrassment, or you have an employee or me nearby to intercept him."
She nodded, but still looked down. "Please don't make me drunk, Jason?"
"Of course not, sis," I assured her and rubbed her arm slightly. "It's a good thing you told me beforehand. It's not something to admit lightly, but it's stuff we need to know. For instance, Hanna can select a lighter wine in the future or serve something non-alcoholic."
"It's okay," she said, with a small smile returning to her features. "I'm not going crazy after two glasses, but give me five or more and all bets are off."
"Means more for me," I quipped and pulled the half-empty bottle closer to me.
She smiled back. "Well, dear brother, since you obviously decided to have a heart-to-heart with your sister, I have you know that I'm not kidding. If you think shagging the stuffing out of Hanna's bum is kinky. Trust me, I've done more than that when I was drunk out of my mind."
This time it was my turn to blush. Just like Julia had done, for want of a better idea, I hastily downed my wine to buy myself a couple of seconds.
"You know?" I asked, my voice breaking as I was too shocked.
Julia nodded with a wicked smile.
"Two months ago, I needed a flight to Washington on short notice and thought I'd work out the charter contract directly with you, but my phone's battery had died, so I couldn't call in beforehand. I'd been prepared to encounter both of you naked, but I walked in and you were shagging Hanna's rear-end. You both seemed to like it quite a lot."
Seeing the mischievous smirk on her face made me blush even more, but at least she was wearing a smile and was loosening up a bit.
"You're not mad?"
"No," my sister said, chuckling a bit. "You're nineteen and Hanna assured me that everything is consensual. In fact, she asked me if I didn't know any secret to make you a little ... um ... more willing. But of course I didn't tell you that."
This time I couldn't help myself and chuckled with her. It was true that I was the one who occasionally said no. If Hanna would get her way, I'd probably never get to work on time.
"Maybe we should hire an equally inspired pool boy for you," I quipped and Julia immediately blushed a ridiculous shade of crimson.
"My house doesn't have a pool."
"Your house doesn't have much of anything, Julia," I told her and became serious again. "Why didn't you buy an estate with at least a few creature comforts? We live in a region where you can use the pool almost year round. Our parents didn't build this house to show off. Dad needed the space and luxury to relax after yet another fourteen-hour day. And so do you."
I could see Julia grow pensive. She asked me for another glass of wine, assuring me she wasn't yet near the limit that would turn her into Dolly Buster.
"Can I use your pool from time to time?" she asked, her voice lowered. "I sort of miss this place."
"You can ask questions, silly," I chuckled. "Of course. Just tell us you're coming and Hanna and I will even wear swimsuits. Your room is still as it was and she still changes the bed sheets regularly, even though you haven't stayed here for almost two years. You can stay here whenever and as long as you like."
For the first time in years my sister hugged me. As she did so, her breasts pushed into my chest and I noticed I wasn't the only one who'd grown substantially since I had seen Julia skinny-dipping the last time. That was at least eight years ago.
"Are you still singing in the bathroom?" I asked her, deciding that this time was as good as any to get some things out in the open. Who knew when Julia would ever loosen up that much again.
"You know?" she asked, parroting my earlier question and the blush was quite similar in intensity as well.
"I have to make a confession," I said. "Back when you, um... , stopped skinny dipping at fourteen, I tried to peek a few times when you were in the bathtub."
By the time I finished my stammering confession, we were both blushing and seeing each other's badly discoloured faces we just started laughing at the same time. I must admit, it was worth it. I hadn't heard Julia's silvery laughter since long before our parents' death.
"You had mum and later Hanna too running around naked all day and you spied on me?" she asked more amused than shocked or angry. "I was what, fifteen? My boobs weren't even a handful back then."
Despite the merriment, my blush persisted.
"What can I say," I admitted. "Mom's knockers were huge, but gravity hadn't been exactly kind to them. Yours were much more beautiful, and believe it or not, I actually liked hearing you sing. Granted, I could have left the door closed for that."
"You rascal!" Julia said and I almost jumped in surprise when she planted a small peck on my cheek. "Normally I should be mad with you, you know."
I just shrugged apologetically and tried to fight this damn blush down. Then I had an idea.
"Um, Julia, would you mind singing for me?" I blurted out before I could catch myself and she looked at me, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.
"You weren't kidding, were you?" she asked.
I shook my head, feeling abashed about my question.
"I wouldn't even know what to sing," Julia said, quite abashed herself. "I used to like ABBA, I doubt you even know them."
"Come," I said and took her hand. Completely taken by surprise, my sister followed me to my 'hobby' room.
In there I had a Karaoke box among many other things that can lighten up a party and Julia was too surprised to offer any resistance when I fixed the Bluetooth headset to her head.
"God this is embarrassing," Julia said with a nervous giggle. "I've never sung for anyone, well at least not knowingly."
I blushed when she referred to my earlier confession. I handed her the remote and Julia's eyes went wide when she saw that I had just about every ABBA song on it. Well, what can I say? The music was way before my time, but once I had found out what it was that Julia had been singing alone in the bathtub, I got hooked, always imagining it was my beautiful sister singing it when listening to old ABBA songs.
She fidgeted nervously, but finally Julia selected the first song on the play-list and launched into a rendition of 'Chiquitita' that nearly made me cry instantly.
My jaw dropped and bashed a dent in the floor. I remembered that she had a beautiful voice, but the spectacle I was witnessing put the original to shame, and I noticed something else. Merely a few lines into the song there was no sign of nervousness any more. Julia was loving it and sang to me with a beaming smile the likes of which I hadn't seen on her face since the death of our parents.
She was perhaps halfway into the song when I couldn't help it any longer. A tear of emotion ran down my cheek as I grabbed my sister's hands and we started to dance. She was startled and lost the rhythm for a moment but soon she synchronized to the music again and we drifted off into a different world.
Julia worked her way through at least ten songs, 'Waterloo', 'The Winner Takes It All', 'When All Is Said and Done' and other classics, while we danced, completely oblivious to the world around us. By the time the short play-list ended, we were standing in a close embrace, hugging and kissing each other breathlessly after almost an hour of non-stop dancing.