Chapter 2

I said at the end of the last chapter that everything was back to normal again between my sister and me, but this is the part which, if it were in a movie, there would be tense music playing and you’d know that everything was not back to normal. You wouldn’t know what was coming, but you’d know something was going to happen that was going to scare the shit out of you.

Me? I was fat, dumb, and happy, clueless in every sense of the word. Just like the character in that movie, who blithely goes forward to his doom while you out there in audience land yell at the screen, telling him not to open that door, or turn that corner or whatever. Well ... your girlfriend yells like that. Not you. Us guys are too cool to talk to TV and movie screens.

And it was exactly like that scene in the Hitchcock thriller where the woman is in the shower and the guy whips the curtain back and sticks a knife in her. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly like that. I mean there was a glass door, not a shower curtain, and nobody had a knife. Nobody even ripped the door open. But it felt like somebody had stuck a knife in me.

That’s because while I was taking my shower, Jennifer walked in, put the lid to the toilet down, and sat on it, facing me. She just sat there, waiting.

And I could see her clear as day.

It turns out that water running down the glass of a frosted shower door does something to the optical quality of the glass that turns it clear. At least from the inside out. And that meant from the first time I snuck in to take a leak, to the last time I masturbated while staring at the same door she was staring at ... my sister had seen everything I did as if there were no door there at all.

She didn’t do anything. She just sat there, looking at me through the door. I didn’t know what to do. I’d had the beginnings of a boner when I got in, anticipating maybe jerking off while I took my shower, but there was no bone in the boner now. No, sir. Not a splinter of a bone. In fact, my dick shrank and got like maybe an inch and a half long. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it with the hands I’d put over it when I realized how busted I was.

It was a long shower, but it couldn’t go on endlessly. Eventually the hot water ran out and it got really cold, so I had to turn the water off. Still, she just sat there.

Even in a situation like that you can’t just stay in there forever. The towels were all on racks outside the shower. You couldn’t reach over the door to get one. You had to at least open the door and reach through that opening. So that’s what I did.

I found out she’d removed all the towels and that they were on the floor next to her feet. I hadn’t noticed that, before.

“Need a towel?” she asked, her voice full of false innocence.

“What if Mom caught you in here?” I asked, gruffly, playing the big brother card.

Yeah, you can imagine how effective that was.

She tossed her head and her lip curled into an almost sneer as I remembered that our mother was forty miles away enjoying the day with our father.

I looked down at the neatly stacked towels on the floor by her right foot. I wanted to get one, but to do that I’d have to come out where my one-inch-long penis would be on full display. Even my balls were sucking up into my body at the moment.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Now I’ll tell you I was prepared to be blackmailed. Well, not exactly prepared, but you know that I mean. I probably should have said I expected her to blackmail me. I anticipated all sorts of dire threats to tell not only our parents, but all my friends, and all her friends and maybe even people at church all about how I was a pervert and a wanker who got off on watching his sister in the shower. She could ruin me pretty much forever if she wanted to. So the sky was the limit, in terms of what she could demand. I didn’t have a lot of money. In our little town the only jobs I could get were temporary odd jobs. I did, in theory, have a part time job at MacDuff’s Hardware Emporium, but I only worked five or six hours a week, usually sorting through the nuts and bolts that customers had mixed up, or restocking bags of feed for various animals, both farm and domesticated, stuff like that. I envisioned, briefly, having to do all her chores until I was in my thirties.

What I was not prepared for - and I now use that word in a more appropriate fashion - was for what she said.

“I figured if you get to watch me, then it’s only fair that I get to watch you,” she said.

My brilliant rejoinder was, “Uh ... what?” My voice sounded like I was maybe twelve.

“What part of ‘I get to watch you’ didn’t you understand?” she asked. There was an edge to her voice. I found out later her expectations were for me to dance for joy. You know ... go all pervy happy on her.

“Why?” I asked. I was truly mystified.

“Oh come on, Bobby,” she snorted. “You know why.”

“No I don’t,” I insisted, quite honestly.

“Why do you like watching me?” she asked.

I was rattled, which is probably why the first thing that popped into my head was what I said.

“Because you’re a frickin’ babe,” I said.

Now I know I said in the beginning of all this that Jennifer was very normal looking and all that. But my perception of her had morphed as my desires concerning her had morphed. She hadn’t gotten any better looking or anything. I just perceived her differently. That’s not odd. It doesn’t matter if you’re a guy or a girl, as you look around there are some people of the opposite sex who you are attracted to, and others you aren’t. But the ones you aren’t attracted to are attractive to somebody else, so it all works out in the end. No matter what you look like, somebody out there thinks you’re hot.

I don’t know whether that’s what happened to me, or whether she just grew on me. Well, mostly she grew on me in the area of my groin. But how I thought about her had changed in my brain, too. I don’t know. All I know is that’s what popped into my mind, so that’s what I said. I met a professor since then who told me that when you are asked a question, the very first thing that pops into your mind is the truth. It might not be what you say, but it’s probably the truth.

This announcement was met with surprise. That’s probably no surprise to you, but it was to her. Her mouth opened and then closed again. I saw the blush that came from inside her T shirt and came up her neck to her cheeks.

“Really?” Her voice kind of squeaked.

I was beginning to realize that my life might not be over and that feeling made me so giddy that I had a hard time thinking rationally. I sort of nodded and I’m quite sure I had a goofy smile on my face.

“I just thought it was because the girls you went out with shut you down all the time,” she said.

That cut through my giddiness like a hot knife and the typical teenage male in me popped out.

“What?” I was injured! “I don’t get shut down!”

“Yes you do,” she snorted. “I talk to most of them. You have a reputation, Bobby.”

“Reputation?”

“Yes. Believe it or not, all the girls around here think you’re a really nice guy.”

“What?” My voice rose. I was confused again. I wasn’t nice! I was manly! I was in shape, and had a twinkle in my eye. My mother said I reminded her of Tony Curtis. I didn’t know who he was, but I could tell by the way she said it that it meant I was good looking.

But the fact of it was that I did get shut down on dates pretty regularly. The farthest I had ever gotten was when Rhonda Tompkins let me feel her breasts through her shirt (and bra) but that was about it. I got lots of kisses, had made out for hours, in fact, but when my hands roamed, they got pushed away.

“And that you don’t have a future,” added Jennifer.

You know that sound they use in the movies of a phonograph needle being scraped across the grooves of one of those old-timey records? I actually heard that in my head.

“What? What do you mean I don’t have a future? What kind of shit is that?”

My sister frowned. She didn’t like curse words and made no bones about expressing her distaste - with anybody! Including complete strangers.

“You haven’t applied to any colleges,” she said. “You don’t have any plans. To all the girls around here that means you’re going to stay here and work at MacDuff’s for the rest of your life. They, on the other hand, have lots of plans, all of which involve getting them out of this town forever.”

I had no defense for that. I did not, in fact, have any idea what I was going to do when I graduated. The thought of four more years of books and tests and studying just didn’t have a lot of appeal to me. I had given some vague thought to the military, but even that hadn’t boiled down to which of the services I thought I might like. There was plenty of time for that. I had a whole year of high school left, after all.

“Let’s get back to this ‘nice’ business,” I said.

“Oh, that?” She shrugged. “All that means is that most of the girls who go out with you are afraid they’ll like you too much.”

“What?” Now I was beyond mystified. I was astonished! “What the heck does that mean?” I was so agitated that I actually stepped out of the shower. Jennifer’s eyes shot straight to my less than impressive (at the moment) equipment. Then, to my surprise ... and maybe just a little disappointment ... her eyes came back up to my face.

“If a girl likes a boy... really likes him ... she’s tempted to do things that aren’t wise. And if she does those things, then she usually falls in love with him. So if you don’t want to fall in love with a boy, you just don’t do those things. It’s simple, really. It’s actually kind of like what Mom says about saving yourself for that special person. You don’t want to lose control and do something stupid, like falling in love with somebody who has no future. That’s why you never get very far on your dates.”

“I have a future,” I said, defensively.

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

There we were, back to an area I didn’t really want to discuss. Well... couldn’t discuss, actually.

“Never mind that. Why are you here?”

“To watch you take a shower,” she said, simply.

“I know that part,” I groaned. “But why do you want to watch me take a shower?”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” she asked. “Why did you want to watch me?”

I was distracted by her use of “conversation” in the sentence. That’s because I realized I was actually having an extended conversation with my sister! And it seemed completely normal. Well, other than the fact that I was standing there naked and dripping. Actually, I wasn’t dripping all that much anymore. I looked down and saw the bath mat was pretty damp. I took a step and leaned down to get a towel. It covered my groin when I stood up, which I admit was intentional, but that didn’t last because I needed to dry my hair. But this situation was strange enough that I felt okay doing that. When I pulled the towel off my head, Jennifer’s eyes were on my dick again.

“It looks really small,” she observed. She looked up and must have seen something in my face (what would be on your face if some girl said that to you?) and she amended her comment. “Compared to what it’s like when you watch me in the shower,” she added. Then she went on some more. “From what I could see, anyway. It’s harder to see through the glass from the outside than I expected. It was easy to see it from the inside, but I thought you could see me that well, too, so I had to pretend I wasn’t looking at you. It definitely looks smaller now, though.”

I couldn’t very well tell her it was smaller because I was scared to death, so I went with something else. “This is weirding me out,” I said.

“Why? I’d think you were used to it after watching me all those times.”

“I didn’t know you could see me,” I said. “The glass is different from the outside. All I could see was a kind of blurry outline.”

“I know,” she said. “I figured that out when I came in here to watch you.”

“Yeah,” I said.

Neither of us said anything and it started to get uncomfortable. She broke the silence.

“So you got all excited over just my blurry outline?”

I still wasn’t home free on the blackmail front. And even though there had been nothing said about perverts or anything like that, I suddenly didn’t want my sister to think I was one.

“I didn’t actually mean for that to happen,” I said. “Not at first, anyway. It was sort of an accident. I had to pee really bad and I didn’t think you’d notice if I slipped in and did that and then left.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That was the first time. I saw you right away, but you did your business and left. I was mortified of course. I almost told Mom about it. But I thought about it and decided you were just being a jerk instead of a douche bag.”

The distinction was lost on me, but I didn’t particularly care for her to expound on that, so I moved on.

“The problem was that I did see your outline that time, and it was ... sexy?”

I got the blush again.

“And it excited me,” I admitted.

“Who did you think about?” she asked.

“What?”

“What girl did you think about when you saw my form and got excited?”

“Nobody,” I said. “I thought about you.”

“No you didn’t. Guys don’t think about their sisters like that.”

“Well I did,” I admitted. “I thought, ‘That’s Jennifer in there, and she looks pretty good.’”

“Oh,” she said, going pink for a third time.

“But I felt bad about it,” I said. “When I got back to my bedroom I thought of other things.”

“You mean you looked at your dirty pictures,” she said.

The only way she could know about those was if she’d been snooping. I got mad but she held up a hand, facing me like a stop sign.

“I’m sorry. I found them last year. I haven’t violated your privacy since then.”

And that brought us up to the present.

“I’m sorry I violated yours,” I said. I meant it, too.

“I felt violated at first,” she admitted. “But not anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Something strange happened,” she said.

“You can say that again,” I said. “This whole thing has been strange. What was the strangest part to you?”

I was being sarcastic, but she didn’t take it that way. In fact, she just answered the question.

“I realized I ... um ... kind of liked it,” she said, softly.

She’d knocked me for another loop. Instead of thinking about that, though, I decided that the setting was getting on my nerves. I suggested that she let me dry off and that I’d get dressed, and then we could keep talking.

You don’t understand how groundbreaking this was in our relationship. Prior to this we were strangers who lived in the same house. Roommates who had separate rooms, and who lived with the landlord. When she said, “I kind of liked it,” and I thought, “I did too,” our relationship underwent a seminal change. We weren’t the same people we had been.

Oh sure, we were probably closer than I characterize it. You have to be when you’re family. But that closeness wasn’t intentional. It was more closeness by osmosis. This was the first time we were really interested in talking about something.

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Showering With Sister

Lubrican

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