The Missing Piece
Copyright© 2025 by Arcadia
Chapter 2
I spent the next day brooding over how I had acted like such a pussy.
So what? You had a hard-on. Who cares, right? Not like she was freaking out over it, so why were you?
“Join the army.” Jesus. Get a hold of yourself. Why did I always turn into a tepid little puddle of water around girls? Even my sister?
That night, I resolved to play it cool. Just shrug it off.
Yeah, psh, totes did have a hard-on cuz I was thinkin’ ‘bout Melissa. You know, about bangin’ her. And stuff. Riiiiiight in her pussy. No biggie.
Yeah, and then we’d just both laugh it off and that’d be that! And if I got an erection again, well, no big deal, right? What’s a little erection between friends? Or brother and sister? Not like I was hard because of her.
Well, okay, I guess I’m not honest with myself all the time. But at least I know when I’m lying.
Those thoughts were in my head while I mowed down unsuspecting 35-year-olds online, cheerfully and casually ruining the one night a week they play online with the skills I’d honed by being a teenage boy with nothing else to do.
When I heard a car door slam shut outside, I pulled my headphones down and checked the clock — 12:30. Peering through the blinds, I saw some sedan parked right in front of our house, starting to drive off, and a woman walking toward our front door. She was a little far from the streetlight now for me to see, but she was wearing a dress, I was sure, and — it was Charlie.
Well, who else would it be coming to our house after midnight in a dress and high heels — Mom?? If those are the two options, it’d better be Charlie!
Hmm, what’s Charlie doing out?
I must not have heard her leave earlier. I did hear the front door close, though, and for some reason held my breath.
Was she on a date? With some guy? Is that who dropped her off?
Footsteps started up the stairs — then stopped.
Went to her room, I guess.
A date in a dress? Did she go to some fancy restaurant? A nightclub maybe?
Nope, don’t like that, I thought, frowning at the image of her grinding to a sweaty beat up against some asshole with frosted tips.
Well, some parts of the thought I liked more than others.
Getting up from my computer, I tiptoed to the door, even though there was no reason I had to sneak around in my own room. I put my ear to the door, listening intently over my heartbeat.
...
Nothing.
I turned off the lights in my room, as if somehow that would help me hear better.
It didn’t.
After a solid minute of just standing there, wondering what exactly I was doing, finally I carefully turned the door handle and, as silently as I could, opened my door.
A sliver of light was spilling into the dark hallway at the other end, but it was coming from the bathroom, not Charlie’s room.
Without giving it any thought, I held my breath again and crept along the far wall until I was to the corner. I could hear her shuffling around in there. Occasionally a drawer would open, or I’d hear something on the counter. If I just inched my head a little to the left, I’d be able to peek into the bathroom and...
And what, exactly? See my sister peeing?
Or maybe... showering. After a long night of sweatily dancing with a bunch of guys who, hopefully, she later found out were gay and kind enough to drop her off at home. Yes! That’s the most likely outcome here!
Steeling myself with that incentive, I slowly moved my head until my eyes were barely poking out beyond the corner of the wall. The door was open quite a bit, about halfway, so Charlie clearly wasn’t concerned about someone seeing her.
I didn’t see anything interesting at first, just the counter and drawers on the left wall and the mirror above them that ran nearly the length of the bathroom. Then she came into view from stage right.
And my God, what a view.
She was still wearing the dress I’d seen her in outside, but barefoot. I had never seen a woman wearing a dress like that in real life. It was a dark, dark, smokey green with some kind of faintly glittery fabric — nearly the same color as her eyes, but not as vibrant. It clung tightly to her, scrunched up in all the right places. It was short, too, maybe halfway down her thigh, accentuated by a slit that went up even further along her left leg, exposed to me as she bent toward the mirror, doing something to her face.
If I hadn’t already been holding my breath, I would’ve stopped breathing then.
My eyes moved up her figure, taking in the way her shoulders seemed to blend so beautifully into her smooth, toned arms.
How do dresses like that even stay up?
There were no visible straps, only a fold of fabric over the top part of the dress that looped around her right shoulder, but it didn’t look to be nearly enough to keep the thing from falling down.
Another womanly mystery I’m unlikely to ever get an answer to.
She leaned closer to the mirror, performing yet another inscrutably feminine ritual with her eyebrows. Her shoulder blades rippled, and I tried to take a silent gulp of air as I wondered what massaging her back would feel like.
Then her eyes flitted and locked onto mine in the mirror.
FUCK.
I whipped behind the wall, gasping and holding my breath desperately. Should I make a run for it? Or just hope she didn’t see me?
No, she definitely saw me.
Maybe I should just act like I was ... walking by.
No. If I was just walking by, then why did I hide?
Maybe I thought it was a burglar!
Well, when you saw it was your sister, then why?
Because ... I was trying to catch the burglar naked! So ... I ... just stood in the hallway instead of going back to my room once I knew it was my sister...?
Shit. Now I’d just been standing here for 30 seconds without doing anything. That was probably worse.
But, if she hadn’t said anything, then ... maybe she really hadn’t seen me?
I waited for another 10-count, listening intently, but heard nothing except the ticking clock and the faint snoring that meant my parents were still asleep in their room.
Then the shower came on.
My mind processed the situation quickly, working in adrenaline-induced overdrive. The shower was on ... but I hadn’t heard the door close. People don’t generally get in the shower with clothes on, leading to one inescapable conclusion...
My sister is probably naked.
Fuck.
I couldn’t not risk everything, now. The suddenly significant bulge in my shorts agreed. Well, really I was agreeing with the bulge in my pants, not the other way around — he was calling the shots now, and we both knew it.
Slowly, I inched my eyes around the corner again.
Nothing.
Charlie was nowhere in sight, but I couldn’t quite see in front of the shower, where she’d step into it.
With more courage than I’d ever had in anything else I’d ever done in life, I forced myself around the corner entirely, stepping just a little bit closer, and craning my neck just a little bit farther around the door.
Still nothing.
Another step, another few inches of craning. If I extended my arm all the way out, I’d be just out of reach of the bathroom door. Definite danger zone.
I lifted my foot for another step—
“BOO!” Charlie’s delighted, impish grin suddenly appeared from behind the door before my foot came down. Instead, I lurched back and let out a yelp, nearly falling backward.
I tried to stammer out a preemptive excuse as Charlie stepped completely into view, still fully clothed in her incredible dress. Doubled over, she was laughing hysterically to herself in a quiet rasp so that she wouldn’t risk waking up our parents, if I hadn’t already.
“I ... I just ... was...”
The remains of a smile still on her face, she moved back toward the shower and turned it off, managing to only get her hand a little wet, and motioned for me to join her in the bathroom.
Nervously, I shuffled in, my head down, trying to look at anything but what I wanted to look at most.
She went back to her reflection, dabbing some makeup off, apparently, though it looked like most of it was still on.
Silently, I just watched her face in the mirror, trying to will myself into invisibility while my sister quietly went about her business. Competing for my attention was her butt, pointed out only a few feet away from me now and ever-so-close to being exposed as the short dress rode up the backs of her thighs.
But it was her eyes I couldn’t keep mine from. They looked even sharper than usual, her subtle dark eyeshadow and eyeliner enhancing the feeling that they might cut through the mirror if she looked in one place too long. Her hair was down, but done in a way I hadn’t seen before so that it seemed to be both silky smooth and stay in place on one side of her head, like a cascade down her shoulder that knew better than to flow any other way.
“So?” she said, putting away one tool, then looking back up to the mirror while she primped something else off her face. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Her reflection winked at me playfully.
I felt my face flush red again. At least my boner was gone, I guess.
“I ... just ... Charlie...” I took a deep breath and looked her up and down again. At that, she turned to look at me directly and cocked her eyebrow in what I hoped was mock anger.
“Youjustlooksofuckingamazing.” The words tumbled out of me, a little louder than they should have, although they shouldn’t have at all. It was like they were pushed out by the very act of breathing — impossible not to blurt.
Charlie didn’t burst out laughing, like I thought she would. Instead, her expression of mock offense melted into one of amusement.
I guess that’s better?
She chuckled a little and sighed.
“Close the door,” she said quietly, sporting a weary grin. “Don’t want Mom and Dad to hear their golden boy perving out on his big sister late at night.”
Does she mean ... with me on this side of it?
Hesitantly but hopefully, I reached out and closed the door, looking back to see if I had misinterpreted her directions. Apparently not, because she was back to wiping off more makeup in front of the mirror, and didn’t seem surprised when she looked my direction again and saw I was still there. She only nodded to the toilet a few steps behind her.
“Take a seat,” she said.
I obeyed, head still cowed, no idea what was happening here.
We sat in silence while she finished up whatever she was doing, and I occupied myself by trying to look contrite while drinking in the shine from the back of her long legs. After a few moments, she turned around and leaned back against the counter, arms folded.
“So, I’ve got a little perv for a brother,” she tsk’d, with a tone that said she was not actually angry or surprised by this.
I didn’t know how to react, so I just sort of shrugged, gave a half smile that I hoped looked conciliatory and embarrassed, and tried to look anywhere but at her.
“Hey, look at me,” she said softly.
Reflexively, I did as she said, locking onto her eyes, which seemed more pitying than piercing to me now.
Ugh. That’s definitely worse.
“So ... seriously, why’d you sneak out of your room and spy on your sister in the bathroom like you’re some sorta shitty cat burglar? What were you expecting to see?”
I fidgeted with the sides of the toilet lid I was sitting on, searching around for some explanation that somehow didn’t sound stupid.
“I ... well ... like I said...” I stammered. I looked up at her again. Charlie was in the same pose, but her face had softened a little bit more. “I just ... I heard you get out of the car outside and saw you in that dress,” I waved my hands at her figure as if that were explanation enough, “and ... I don’t know, I just...”
I shrugged and hoped she wouldn’t make me go on.
She didn’t, but she did let the awkward silence stretch for a few beats.
“You like the dress?” she asked in a different tone, standing up straight and doing a half-twirl.
I nodded. Liking the dress would’ve been an understatement of massive proportions.
“What do you like about it?”
I shifted uncomfortably again.
“Hey,” she said in that same soft-but-firm voice, “look at me, Danny. It’s not like I’m naked or something. I’m wearing a dress for God’s sake, there’s nothing to be ashamed of for either of us here.”
She took a step closer.
“Now,” my sister continued, never breaking eye contact, “what do you like. About. The dress?”
“I ... I don’t know, I guess I just ... I’ve never seen someone wearing something like that in real life,” I admitted.
That hung in the air for a few seconds, and I felt petrified, afraid to move, like I had just accidentally insulted a T-Rex’s mother and was waiting to see if it thought I was worth the trouble to eat — or if it was just going to call all its T-Rex friends to come laugh at me.
“Danny, have you ever had a girlfriend?”
She was asking in a way that was clearly meant to sound non-judgmental, but I couldn’t help but feel judged anyway.
I hemmed and hawed. “Well...”
Charlie let me extend my haws for a bit, then took another step toward me, which is all it took to get within reach.
“You want to feel the dress?”
I locked eyes with her again. She ... didn’t look like she was making a joke.
Duh I want to touch the dress!
But ... where? Was there an etiquette to this? It was pretty tight to her body. How much of an invitation was this?
I reached out straight across, which was about at her midsection, figuring that was the safest zone to aim for. The silky fabric flowed between my fingers, interrupted by the glittery stuff that was intermittently encrusted on it.
As I felt my body lean forward, drawn unconsciously like a magnet, I could smell her perfume — that scent I could never name but was just... Charlie, and all that came with it.
Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers traced up, and my palm went almost flat against her.
She laughed and took a step back to the counter.
“Watch it there, tiger,” she said with a grin.
I laughed too, and somehow it seemed like the tension that had felt so thick had broken. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but ... it didn’t seem like it was going to be something bad.
“So,” she said, cocking her head again, “have you ever kissed someone?”
“Yes!” I said, entirely too defensively.
“Who?”
“Francine Carmichael; she’s a grade ahead of me.”
Charlie snorted and started to laugh.
“There’s someone at your school named Francine?” she said, laughing more. “Is she an undercover 75-year-old woman??”
“No! She’s pretty good looking,” I retorted. And she is! Really!
Charlie didn’t seem to notice anything I was saying at that point.
“When you fantasize about fucking her, do you yell out, ‘YES! OH, FUCK ME, FRANK, DRAIN ME DRY!’”
She acted it out with some exaggerated thrusting, which she thought was uproarious, although was careful to keep her hooting down so she didn’t risk waking our parents. I glared at her for a few moments until she’d completed her self-congratulatory laughing fit.
“Are you done?” I asked, trying to pretend I was only mock-miffed and not legitimately annoyed that I could now never masturbate to the thought of Francine again.
Charlie gave me a wide smile. “Sorry, bro.”
Then she shifted from one foot to the other, keeping her eyes on me and looking like she was weighing something in her mind, clearly about to switch topics. Which was fine by me.
“Look, Danny, you can’t go around spying on people,” she said in a wise-big-sister voice. “I mean, this wasn’t a big deal because I left the door open, after all. It’s not like I forgot about it; you weren’t gonna see anything anyway.”
She took a step toward me and knelt down — an extremely enticing pose in her very short dress — staring me in the face, dead serious.
“Danny, please, tell me something.”
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