Intimacy

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A sibling rivalry escalates.
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'I heard if you drink diet cola after you eat a Mentos your stomach would explode.'

'Not something we want to hear at breakfast, Alissa,' mom said nonchalantly.

'You're an idiot,' I said. 'Mythbusters busted that ages ago.'

'Don't call me an idiot.'

'Jake, don't call your sister an idiot,' dad said, slightly muffled from the few bits of muffin that didn't go down in the first swallow.

'If she wants to say stupid things...'

He glanced over at me this time but didn't say anything more. There was no real anger, as though he didn't really care what I said, but I knew what he meant.Just don't piss her off.

'What classes have you got today, hon?' mom asked me.

'Um... journalism and a few psych ones.'

'And are you going to any of those or are you gonna stay home like a loser and watch sports all day?' Alissa said.

'It looks like it's gonna be sunny today... are you gonna spend all day at the beach or will you actually go to school? Maybe a token appearance in the morning?'

Neither mom nor dad said anything, but we were done. That seemed to be the strategy these days: just let us fizzle out rather than interject or attempt to break us up. They knew that one wrong word and either Alissa or I would be down their throats accusing them of taking a side. Or they could play it perfectly and it would still develop into a shouting match between us trying to get our point into whichever of them was brave enough to speak in the first place. Even I found it frustrating.

Alissa was the first to get up. I watched her leave with the usual half-loathing stare I would give her after any argument, to which she reciprocated until she was into the hallway. I guess she was right, though. The chances of me being bothered to get to class this morning were low at best, while this afternoon's classes enjoying my attendance was highly dependent on whether mom was still home. I think my "the professor is overseas so we watch the lectures online" excuse was probably over-used by now, so I would be forced to go if she was still around.

'Jane was telling me the other day,' mom said, pausing to swallow, 'that she might have a job for you if-'

But I'd stopped listening. I could hear footsteps through the floor right above us. My room.

'Bitch!' I muttered only half to myself; standing up so hard the chair fell over and made an unhealthycrack on the hard-wood floor.

'I keep hoping they'll somehow go back to the way they were when they were young,' I heard mom say through a sigh as I left.

'Are you kidding?' Dad said. 'Remember when he was six and he brained her with his whiffle bat for saying his swing didn't look anything like the guys on TV?'

I do. She was a bit meaner about it in my recollection.

*

Friday nights were family nights. It was possibly our parents' last effort to keep some cohesion in the family, either because Alissa and I were as worse as we had ever been toward each other or because we were getting a little too independent for their liking. Or at least she was. I was more than happy to still live at home and commute to college.

It wasn't so bad, really. We got a movie the majority agreed upon and we watched it together, and no parties or going out afterwards. Alissa hadn't enjoyed getting that news at the inaugural night about two months ago. Losing two hours of time in the party night of the week was bad, although still manageable. Losing the whole night was unacceptable because, after all, she had her vapid reputation to protect.

This Friday night it was my turn to begrudgingly sit in the living room. I was out-voted on the choice of movie, but that alone wasn't killer. My parents' refusal to put cable in my room meant the main TV was the only one to watch the basketball game on, and their accompanying refusal to get Tivo meant I missed it altogether.

Even worse still were the brutal conditions we were sitting in. Due to our dog's annoying habit of using the living room as an extension of the backyard, the carpet was completely stained with piss, which my mother decided to clean today. The cleaning chemicals still hung thick enough in the air to almost taste, helped by the fact the room was also still uncomfortably humid from the amateur effort at steam cleaning afterwards. It was like an ammonia-soaked sauna being fuelled further by the warming spring air. It had given me a headache even before the painful opening sequence of 'Date Movie' was over.

Ironically, Alissa was cheerful. I don't exactly pay attention to her life, but I have to assume something went well that day because she hadn't yet made one badly veiled sarcastic comment like: 'this is sure to be a good use of time'.

At one point in the movie dad had yelled at her to stop shifting herself around every two minutes: just another in her wide repertoire of annoying habits. Surprisingly there was no snappy remark, she got up off the couch and parked herself on the floor, right in between me and the TV. She lay down straight, so that her head was cushioned under her arms up near the TV and her feet down near me. Her moving from the couch had broken what little concentration I'd had in the movie. I watched her move down there but my eyes didn't return to the TV, instead staying on her in a blank, unfocused stare.

She'd been smarter than me in choosing what to wear that night. Instead of the comfortable sweats I hadn't quite let go of for the year yet now that summer was close, she wore a tight fitting green tee-shirt that still had a damp V-mark from where her dirty-blonde hair had been allowed to sit after her shower. Below that was a small blue cotton mini-skirt that had been a summer favorite of hers around the house for years now. Ever since she'd grown the ass to pull it off. It had ridden up a little higher from her continued fidgeting to find a comfortable position, enough to see a hint of something red -wait- red panties?

My eyes snapped back into focus. My eyebrows furrowed when I confirmed I'd seen what I thought I had, and I went to look away. But it wasn't soon enough.

The unit the TV was sitting on had two cabinet doors with mirrors taking up the entire space on the front of them. The left hand door was still a little open from when dad had gotten to the DVD player, ajar enough so that I could see myself in its mirror and so could Alissa. And she was looking straight at me.

My eyes locked onto hers for a moment and I couldn't look away. I expected her to look disgusted and to turn around and either yell at me or scream at dad that I was perving on her. But she didn't. Her blue eyes were slightly squinted and her mouth pursed, like she was only curious as to what I was looking at. It finally sunk in that she'd probably caught me looking up her skirt, as innocent as it was, and I guiltily shot my eyes up to the TV, to which she shook her head and sighed. I shifted uncomfortably on the leather couch, causing it to creak loudly - earning me an angry shooting look from dad – and I cleared my throat.

'I need to go to the bathroom,' I announced.

'I bet you do,' Alissa said with a smile.

I pondered for the rest of the night whether that grin was to mock me or from actual amusement. I assumed the former.

*

To say that I was shocked Alissa didn't either rip me a new asshole or mock the hell out of me doesn't really say how surprised I was. She didn't change her demeanor, that is to say we still had pointless arguments and baited each other for the smallest things, but my half-glimpse of her panty-covered pussy never once came up. I was confused, because usually any ammunition she gets she will throw at me like a trigger happy criminal, mostly because she has never been quick enough to make witty comebacks, instead choosing to embarrass and belittle very crudely.

It made me extremely careful. Whenever I talked to her I had to restrain myself from pushing her too far, because I couldn't be sure she wasn't holding it back for an almighty rip at me to get out of something stupid or embarrassing she had done herself.

At breakfast a few mornings later mom had made pancakes. A whole stack of them, coated in maple syrup and smelling a special kind of delicious I haven't ever come across in those made by anyone else. Alissa was showing her lack of sleep from a 'study session' the night before: huge bruise-like bags under her eyes and a distinct lack of co-ordination. When the inevitable happened - her spilling an entire pancake she had been too lazy to cut right down her front along with one huge glob of syrup - I said nothing. The words had rushed to my mouth instantly, like a Pavlovian response, and it was almost painful not to shoot them like tiny daggers at her.Good one, dumb ass. She didn't take her eyes off me as she cleaned up, expecting the cheap shot to come just as much as I wanted to give it.

Night-time that same day we were home alone. Our parents were at dinner, Tuesday nights being another of their weekly themed nights, this one date night. So, obviously, we weren't involved. I watched the closing graphic of Sportscenter and sighed. I was out of excuses to procrastinate on my psych assignment any longer. I got up off the couch very slowly, again causing the leather to creak loudly and my knee joints to crack almost painfully. Not the healthiest sign in barely 20 year old legs.

I took my time going up the stairs as well. Every step of my bare foot on the padded carpet made a thump that reverberated around the enclosed staircase and made the wood underneath creak every so often. At the top of the stairs I had to turn and walk by the banister, my room being the only one that side of the stairs, and the bathroom being along that wall.

I could hear the splash of running water stop in the bathroom, with the accompanying groan from the pipes in the wall at the loss in water pressure. Alissa's nightly shower had obviously just finished. I have no idea why, but at that moment I had an overpowering urge to look in at her. I'd never once thought about her sexually. Even when her tits and ass had developed I saw them as just factual parts of her body rather than desiring female attractions. At that moment it still wasn't about some perverted desire to see her naked, just a slight and innocent curiosity as to what her naked body really looked like.

The keyhole in the door wasn't the best viewing option. It was difficult to line her up properly, and even when I managed to do so I only saw parts of her before she moved again and I had to re- adjust. She did look nice. Like I said, I'd never thought of her as hot, or even made the choice as to whether she was or not, but at that point I would have to begrudgingly admit that she was. There was still light coming in from the north-facing window, which, as warm and golden as it was that afternoon, gave a silhouette effect that meant I still couldn't see her front too well. She was faced towards me, her head turned as she watched herself in the full-length mirror while slowly rubbing her hair with the beige towel in her right hand. Every time she turned in a new direction the light would catch in the droplets of water still on her front and bounce around artistically. It would make a good photo.

Her front now in partial light I could better make out her features. Her stomach was flat and tanned, dotted with a few larger freckles that I shared with her as a family trait. Her tits were just as evenly tanned - does she go topless at the beach every day?- the 18 year old beauties sitting perfectly on her chest, jiggling hypnotically as she dried her hair. From my very limited knowledge they looked like a B-cup, but the partially obscured angle of the key-hole and the distance made me unsure. I would need to check that later.

She stopped drying and put the towel down. Her hands on her hips and weight shifted to her right side gave her curves added definition. Shit, they never looked like that before. She had a half smirk as she looked at her self. Admiring the work, I guess, because she certainly didn't waste the money our parents spent on her gym membership.

She moved to the vanity, out of my view, so I shifted a little on the plush carpet to try and re-focus on her. The keyhole angle wouldn't allow me to follow, so I stopped trying and got up. The floor creaked under me as I moved away, which, seeing as it did that all the time, I was only half aware of and didn't give it a conscious thought.

*

'Did you like what you saw?' Alissa said.

I looked up from my desk to her standing in my doorway, one hand leaning on the frame. Her tone was hard to pick. She sounded casual, as if calmly asking what time to expect the parents back, and looked it as she was still drying her hair absent-mindedly with the towel. She had the same green shirt on from the other night, which, along with thin, gray sweatpants, accentuated her curves and tits to a point that made them blindingly obvious and hard not to look at.

'Yeah... I'm up here,' she said through a smirk.

I hadn't really processed her question. What did I see? Oh. How did she know?

'I know you were spying on me,' she said, now crossing her arms but remaining strangely casual.

'I was just... passing by. I have to to get in here, remember?'

That sounded so bad. I pride myself on being quick on my feet and knowing the right thing to say back at her in an argument, but even I thought that sounded weak.

'Are you really gonna try that excuse? I could see your shadow under the door, and it really didn't look like you were just passing. Looked a lot more like you were spying. You weren't real quiet about it, either.'

I blanked. I couldn't think of a plausible excuse, and the longer I sat there, my face betraying how horrified I was at being caught, the guiltier I looked. I was at the linen closet? No, she'd ask me why. Shit! I had nothing.

Just like the up-skirt incident, Alissa didn't seem to be getting mad. She was smiling, almost the same kind of smile she had always flashed when I did something stupid, but slightly different. More playful?

'I'm sorry, OK? I was only there for a second and I didn't even see anything.'

The smile grew wider. No doubt she was enjoying the reversal of roles to the way these confronting situations had normally gone.

'I think you saw a whole lot. It's really kinda unfair.'

Of course. Here came the blackmail. I wondered if it would be money, or maybe some of her chores. Whatever it was, I was likely to just blurt out an 'OK, fine' and shoo her away to avoid any further embarrassment.

'What do you want?' I asked with a sigh, leaning back in my computer chair.

'You saw me. I wanna see you.'

'OK, f-' I started. 'Wait... what?'

Her smile curved a little. She knew that I knew exactly what I meant.

'What are you, some kind of per-'

No, that line would end in disaster.

'It's fine,' she said. 'Dad'll probably get a laugh out of it, you think?'

I swallowed loudly and looked to the floor. I stole a quick glance at her - still that ambiguous smile - and stood up. I felt naked before I'd even started to undress, so awkward and clumsy. I fiddled on my belt for a second, my now-sweating hands struggling to get a grip on the cool metal buckle. My eyes stayed fixed on the carpet as I let the jeans drop to the floor and step out of them. I almost fell over when my right foot got caught in the folds. She scoffed.

My probably-too-hairy legs were naked from my boxers to my plain white socks now, but I don't know how she felt about them because I still couldn't look at her. I tried to smoothly take off my white shirt but it got caught coming over my head. I ripped it over in frustration, messing up my brown hair and forcing it inside-out. She scoffed again, and I still couldn't tell if she was mocking me or not.

My chest was bare now. All those times I looked in the mirror and told myself 'I better start working out or else the first time I have sex is going to be embarrassing' caught up to me. I could have at least cut the embarrassing hair around my nipples.

When my eyes came back into focus after the shirt was finally out from in front of them I saw Alissa's face. She was looking at my chest, and she was, surprisingly, not trying to contain any laughter. She pursed her lips and nodded softly. Approval? Enjoyment? I guess I mustn't have been so unfit after all.

I shrugged my shoulders as if to say well, what now?

'I don't think I was wearing underwear when I got outta the shower...'

I pleaded with her using only my expression. She nodded in the direction of the floor.

I should have sat down to take my socks off. I overbalanced on the first one and shot my hand out to my side for support, finding only a cup of water on the desk. It tipped violently, spewing all over my books and only narrowly missing my laptop. This time she did have to hold back a giggle, but this time I could see her face and I could see it wouldn't have been mocking. Was she legitimately enjoying this?

I took the other sock off using the desk as a brace and moved on to my boxers. I paused with my hands on them, feeling the soft yet course cotton on my fingers. Alissa had her arms folded and was leaning fully on the doorframe now. She cocked her head to one side, waiting.

I looked down as I started to slide the boxer shorts down my legs. I did not want to see her face for this. I stepped out of them, thankfully without incident, and stood still, keeping my eyes fixed on the carpet as though I was genuinely interested in the pattern. She didn't say anything.

I just stood there. My shoulders were slouched forward and my fingers drumming nervously on my thigh. After ten seconds I had to look at her, she was forcing me to make the next move. She was looking straight into my eyes, a contented smile stretched across her lips.

'OK, you've seen me,' I said hoarsely.

'Yeah, but showing is different from spying.'

It's worse, I wanted to say.

'You need to do something else.'

'Come on,' I said weakly. I just wanted it to be over.

She looked out the window. The sun was behind the trees on the horizon now, but there was still plenty of golden afternoon light outside.

'Down to the end of the street and back up the other side.' There's no way she said that, I thought. There would be people outside still. I could hear a lawnmower going from a few houses down.

She raised her eyebrows, as if expecting a challenge. I didn't make one. It wouldn't do any good. I walked briskly past her without a word and down the stairs. She watched me from my doorway, keeping that annoying contented grin on her face the entire time.

I opened the front door very slowly, just a little bit, and stuck my head out to scope out my surroundings. Three girls my age had just turned the corner into our street, jogging happily, and lawnmower-guy was three houses down in the same direction. The other way was about three times as long, with plenty more people in their front yards. The short direction it would have to be.

I shouldered the door open hard, cupping my junk in my hands and bolting for all I was worth down the street. My feet started to sting on the hard concrete only a few steps away from our yard, and the spring air wasn't quite warm enough that night to be comfortable in naked. My hairs were sticking up and I had gooseflesh over my entire body. I couldn't be sure where Alissa was watching this, but I didn't dare turn around to check.

Lawnmower-guy shook his head in disapproval as I sprinted past.

'Sorry,' I mumbled to him.

The girls noticed me almost instantly, slowing down to laugh and point. Great.

I reached the end of the street and quickly scanned for cars before crossing the even-more- painful-on-my-feet road. The girls had stopped completely and were staring straight at me. I ran past them with my eyes firmly pointed down, taking jeers and wolf whistles as I did.