Chapter 2

Saturday morning, I knocked on her bedroom door.

“Come in?”

I let myself in. Why was I being so formal, but I was, and she came out of the bathroom.

“Damn!”

“Is something wrong, Johnny?”

I stopped and she looked down to see what was going on. “Why are you looking at me like that!”

Dare I say anything out loud?

“I had no idea exactly how pretty you were. You look all grown up, Sis.”

“Mom let me borrow this dress of hers. I think it’s too tight, don’t you?”

What caught my attention was that it showed a fair amount of top bosom, and it being tight magnified it a lot.

“Are you checking me out, Big Brother?”

Oops, she caught me.

“Sorry, Nan, it’s just that ... well I ... you are beautiful, and I never noticed until this very moment.”

“It’s OK, boys tell me I’m pretty all the time, it’s no big deal ... really?”

I leaned over to her, took her by her upper arms and gave her a different kind of kiss. She responded and it progressed into an open mouth kiss between a brother and sister.

I finally let go of her arms and her mouth, hearing her say, “Wow!”

“Don’t you look pretty?” Carol said walking into her sister’s room, uninvited.

“I told her the very same thing, Carol!” I was quick to say, turning to wipe my face off.

Dad didn’t get to see her, he had an early house showing. He and Mom sell real estate, specializing in Commercial Property and Raw Land.

I put her into my Pontiac, that she will be getting as a hand me down. That’s how it works in our house ... from Mom, to Dad, Randall, me, Nancy and inevitably, Carol.

Randall goes to Santa Fe University, an hour’s drive to the north five days a week, sometimes six!

We drove off, and she moved over to talk, “If Carol hadn’t come in, what would you have done?”

I dismissed her question, concentrating on the drive.

“Johnny, stop the car, please?”

I pulled over and did as she asked.

“OK, I did, what’s wrong?”

I heard nothing, except the sounds of her crying ... oh dear god, I’ve made my sister cry.

“Come here and sit beside me for a moment, please?” I asked.

She undid her seat belt, and slipped over next to me, taking me by the arm. “I’m confused, John.”

“About what, specifically?”

“First you look at me, like you’ve never seen me before, then you say that I’m pretty. Next, I see you looking at me like some of the boys at school do, then you take me by my arms and kiss me. What’s going on?”

She was right, I was being...

“Johnny, the reason I wear baggy style outfits, is because of the way boys were looking at me. It scared me. As soon as I looked ... frumpy, they backed off. I get a chance to maybe model, so I dress up and you start acting really weird, just like the other boys.”

“I’m sorry. What I have been doing is called ‘sending mixed signals.’ I will try my best to be more specific and focused when we are around each other. Can I ask you something, personal?”

“Sure!”

“If they like you and want you to be a model, have you thought of the kinds of clothes they are likely to have you wear while they are taking your pictures?”

“I don’t know, maybe bathing suits, you know bikinis?”

“I’ve never seen you in a bikini, do you have a picture, maybe on your phone?”

“U-huh,” she said, opening her phone and after selecting one, showed it to me.

“Wow, you are very pretty. Here, let me show you a picture of the kinds of bikinis they might ask you to wear, OK?”

I took my phone out of my shirt pocket and found and showed her a picture of Kaley Cuoco from THE BIG BANG.

“Oh, my goodness, that isn’t a bikini, it’s a hanky with a rope!”

“How long since you’ve been shopping for a new swimsuit, kiddo?”

“I never have, Mom always took me shopping. Kaley only has half of her boobies covered. I will not let anybody take that kind of picture of me. Take me shopping, please? I’ll pay you back!”

“Right now?” I said.

“Please?”

I thought about that, then I thought of the best place to take her, causing me to turn around and got on the road to Santa Fe.

“Where are you taking me, Johnny?”

“Where pretty girls ... no, where beautiful girls go to get their clothes, Nancy.”

“Gollee, where is that?”

“Santa Fe, Victoria’s Secret to be specific ... that’s where. Buckle up, cutie pie!”

She giggled, put on her seat belt, and took hold of my arm.