Chapter 5

Meg knew my birthday was coming up, and started making plans for a big night out.

“We’ll go out to dinner, then to a club for dancing, and come home at 3 AM and sleep until Noon! Sound like fun, Jack?”

It really didn’t, but there was no way I’d squash her excitement at a chance to dress-up, have a nice dinner and go dancing.

“Sure, Sis! Sounds like fun!”

When the big night came I dressed in my only good suit, a bespoke number that I’d bought for occasions like book signings, where I couldn’t get away with my uniform of cargo shorts and tee. I refused to wear a tie, however. Meg would just have to put up with an open collar white shirt. I also spit-shined my shoes, because Marine. My publisher would have had me in dress blues and all the fruit salad if she’d had her way. I finally convinced here that it was illegal, but it was a hard fight.

The Pocket Rocket spent about two hours in her room, refusing to come out or let me peek in the door. I was in the den, looking at some emails, when she called, “Close your eyes, Big Brother! No peeking!”

Dutifully following orders I could hear high heels clicking down the hallway.

“Okay, Jackie Boy ... read it and weep, you lucky fella!”

I opened my eyes and almost fell off the chair. Somehow she’d managed to tame her curls into an up swept “do” that left her ears bare, showing off emerald studs that set off her deep green eyes. Her cheekbones, enhanced by artful makeup (How do they learn to do that?) looked sharp enough to cut paper. Bright red lipstick set her eyes off brilliantly.

Meghan’s elegant neck led down ... and down ... and down to her belly button, also adorned with an emerald. Her “modesty” was protected, sort of, by two tiny toggles that held together the plunging neckline of her green minidress. The clingy fabric of the pale green mini, apparently some kind of microfiber, outlined every detail of her petite body, hugging her barely-there breasts lovingly. Her little tits were covered – mostly – but all the more provocative because the gauzy material molded like paint to the contours of her erect nipples and caused an enhanced 3D effect beneath the shiny material. The mini ended about two inches below paradise, from where her long legs led my gaze down to delicate feet in “fuck me” pumps with 4-inch heels ... green, of course. A tiny clutch, covered in emerald green crystals, finished off the perfection. Her perfect skin needed no stockings.

My little sister was without question the hottest woman I’d ever seen ... a total knockout who exuded pure estrogen!

“Close your mouth, Jack! You see me naked all the time; it can’t be that much of a shock!”

“Good God, Sis! What are you wearing for panties? I can’t see a thing!”

Meg slowly reached down and pulled the mini up the three inches needed to show me that there was no panty line because she wasn’t wearing any. Somehow that peek at her waxed mound and vulva, although I’d seen them many times over the past weeks, was the single most erotic thing I’d ever experienced. I was beginning to find the concept of “pure” brotherly love more difficult to hang onto by the second.

“C’mon, Jack, let’s party!”

To make a long story shorter, we had a wonderful dinner at Cucina in Palm Beach, then hit Clematis Street for dancing and club-hopping. Meghan literally stopped traffic when we crossed the street from one club to another. She kept her little hand tucked under my arm most of the evening. (He’s my date bitch, and don’t you wish he was yours?) I was incredibly proud, and did a bit of strutting and posturing myself. Meg loves to dance, and I was glad I’d learned a bit from watching her prance around the house. I was able to watch carefully and mimic some of her moves on the floor. Silly as it seemed, dancing with my teenage sister was pure fun!

It’s been a long time since anyone looked at me and acted “as if,” but several guys that night looked at my petite date, then looked at me with pure hatred. I couldn’t blame them a bit. As the evening went on I was happy to be as big as I am, because a couple of the drunks made passes at my sis regardless, but backed off when she rebuffed them gently and nodded her head at my 6-feet-3 and 220 pounds.

“He’s my big brother, and it’s his birthday, and I’m his date ... and sure you can have my phone number!” She handed them all a cute little printed card. Lord knows who they ended up calling, because she told me it was a totally bogus number.

“Feminine wiles, Jack. Feminine wiles.”

At about 0100, Meg announced that her feet were killing her and she was tired of dancing. We finished our Cokes, I paid, and we limped out to the valet parker to pick up her little Audi. On the way home she announced she wanted to get a cup of coffee, so we stopped at a 7-11 and I picked up two cups of mocha that we enjoyed on the way home. All-in-all, a delightful evening.

I thanked my tiny date for the best birthday ever and gave her a hug and kiss. Then I showered and climbed into bed wearing the first thing I came to, which happened to be a clean pair of running shorts.

“Night, Sis!”

No answer. Must be asleep already.

I turned off the light and had just dozed off when Meg slipped under the covers with me. Sleepily, I turned to see what was up and slim arms slipped around my neck, followed by soft lips on mine, her little body plastered against me. Half asleep, I responded to the kiss without thinking, opening my lips to admit the softly probing tongue. As I came fully awake I realized that I was not only immersed in a passionate kiss with my sister, but I was cupping her perfect, naked ass in my hand and pulling her against a rapidly-building erection.