The Sister Dares

I am not much to look at any more. I am twenty years past my prime, when I played college basketball and I could easily persuade any girl I met that an evening playing one-on-one with me would be a game they would want to play again and again. No, now I am in my forties, my taut abs have given way to a paunch that threatens to overlap my belt, my well-defined arms are not quite so defined. The only thing that people says hasn't changed is my blue eyes and my ready smile. I ain't complaining. It's been a good run. I've got a lovely wife and four beautiful daughters and life is good. My oldest will be leaving college in a year and my youngest is a junior in high school. They all take after their mother, long legs, long blonde hair, easy tans, and they are all gifted athletes. They did get their blue eyes from me. Their mother has green eyes.

We all love to go to the beach and hang out. We surf, play volleyball, the girls check out the boys and I check out the boys who are checking out my girls. It's not that I am a prude, but I slept with more than a hundred women before I got married and I know how easily young women can be persuaded to drop their inhibitions and their panties at the same time. When we aren't at the beach, we are out by the pool, grillin' and chillin'. I've been pretty fortunate in my career and I can afford all the creature comforts. When I finished up my college playing days, I knew that the NBA was a no-chance for me. But others on my team did have a good chance and what they didn't have was a clue in how to pick an agent. So I helped them screen agents and for my troubles I got a job as an agent's assistant for one of the biggest talent management firms in the world. It didn't take me long to become an agent myself, building up my own client list and after five years I was made partner. Now I am the managing partner of the West Coast Division for Talent Associates. I make an obscene amount of money and I only work hard a few days a month.

Life is very good.

About a month ago one of my junior agents was having trouble locking down a contract on a very talented wide receiver from a Division II school near the Oregon/California border. If you know college football, you know which school and by association, which athlete I am referring to, but that's not important to this tale. What IS important is that I have family in the town where this stud plays. So I decided to use a little management prerogative and make a trip up there myself to get this young man to sign on the dotted line. His signature would mean that he would like get 3-5 million dollars more in signing bonus and first contract. When TA walks into the room, every general manager in the NFL knows that the price of poker just went up.

I called my sister and her husband to see if they would be interested in dinner after my arrival.

"Hey sis, it's your favorite brother. I am flying up tonight."

"That's great Dave. Maybe we can get together when you are here."

"Funny you should ask, I am hoping to take you both out to dinner tonight."

"Well, tonight might not work."

"Is Matt working late?"

"I guess I should just tell you. Matt left me. He has moved in with his secretary. He's been gone nearly five weeks. I thought it might be just a mid-life fling, but I haven't heard or seen him since he left....." She was crying and I felt terrible about it.

"Listen Beck, I will be there by 4. You get yourself all dolled up and I am going to take you to my favorite restaurant tonight. I have one stop to make, but I should be at your house by 6:30."

"I don't think I am going to be up to it."

"Nonsense. Get yourself dressed and be ready. I won't take NO for an answer."

"Oh, all right." She hung up the phone. I made a couple of extra phone calls, one to my wife saying that something had come up and not to expect my home until the next day, and one to the pilot of my private jet telling him that we were only going to layover at our first stop, our second stop would be Seattle.

On the flight up I thought about my sister Becky and her husband Matt. I never cared for him, but I never told her that. I felt like she had married way beneath her and that he had kept her from reaching her fullest potential. I also thought back to a few special days when we were both horny adolescents and the Truth-or-Dare games we would play, sometime leading us dangerously close to something particularly incestful. But I had supported Becky and Matt throughout their married life, both emotionally and financially. I know Matt never told Becky that two or three times a year he would put the touch on me for money. I never refused his request because money is something I always have plenty of, and because I knew that to refuse him would cause my sister and my godchildren to suffer needlessly. But my loathing of him grew with each request for more.

The flight up from my offices in LA to the sleepy college town was uneventful. We were wheels down by 3:47 and I was on campus by 4:05. By 4:15 I was in the room of a top ten draft pick and by 5:00 I had his name inked to an exclusive rights contract. He had an agent and I had made more than a million dollars for the firm. I gave him my card with all of my personal numbers on it. A handful of my best clients get all of my personal numbers. Numbers that are always answered promptly and requests made by the men calling those numbers were also fulfilled immediately, no questions asked. A good agency might help you move. We are the kind of agency that will help you move bodies.

I stayed and visited with a couple of underclassmen on the basketball team who I thought had some potential and gave them my other business cards. The telephone numbers on those cards rang into my team of junior agents who were trying to build their own books. They would be good clients, just not uberclients like this wide receiver. I also stopped and talked with his coach, who in the course our conversation mentioned in passing something about budget cuts and not being able to afford some new equipment. I made a couple of quick calls and the needed equipment was available at a discount and one of my clients, another former athlete of this coach, was picking up the tab. The coach never asked me for a favor, didn't imply that he wanted one, didn't hint that he needed one. I did what I did because in the future I might need a favor myself, when a promising young quarterback was having a hard time deciding to go with TA or IMG. This goodwill gesture could come back to pay me a thousand times over or even a million times over. Or it might not. That's the risk I was willing to take. It helped that my reputation as a zealous protector and champion of my clients was without blemish.

By 6:15 I pulled up in front of my sisters comfortable middle class home. My niece and goddaughter Melissa answered the door. At 18 she was a stunning beauty. All curves and sex appeal. If she had been so inclined, I could have had her adorning billboards and checkout counter magazine racks for the last two years. Instead she was a brainiac, studying hard to get into Berkeley to study something I don't understand. She gave me a warm hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Hello Uncle D. Come on in. Mom's upstairs getting ready. Where are you taking her?"

"Carmelo's."

"Carmelo's?" she asked. "Where is that?"

"Up north a ways. We might be late, you and your sisters shouldn't wait up."

I made my way into the house and upstairs to the second floor. I've been there before, dozens of times. I know where Becky's room is. I knock on the door lightly and my sister answered.

"Come in."

I opened the door and stepped in and caught an eyeful of something I hadn't expected. There stood my sister in black lacy bra and French cut black lace panties, not quite a thong but not quite the middle age undergarments I would have expected. She was wearing real silk stockings, sheer and shimmering.

"Wow sis, you look great!" I was being honest. She must have been working out hard to keep that kind of shape. Firm and curved only where curves belonged. Not a bit of cellulite from my vantage, her breasts though not large, were not flat or sagging. She spun around.

"David! I thought you were Melissa or Andrea. I am not dressed. Avert your eyes!"

"Not a chance, sis. You are one hot mama. If you weren't my sister....."

"If I weren't your sister.......what? You'd stare at me?" She laughed and so did I, but I didn't take my eyes off of her. "You'd probably start something you couldn't finish because of the ring on your finger. I know you, you love to talk. But you let one of your assistance do the real work."

"Not in this case," I answered truthfully. "In your case I would spend a good deal of time servicing your needs, as I do for all of my most special clients."

She continued to get dressed, pulling on a black silk camisole and a black silk cocktail dress whose hem barely reached the top of her stockings. Very stunning. She finished off the look with a string of pearls and pearl and diamond earrings. She spritzed herself with Chanel No. 5, the one perfume that always gets my attention.

"I'm ready, let's go."

I guided her out the door, down the stairs and out to my waiting car. The driver already knew our intended destination and headed there immediately. When we arrived at the small local airport, my jet was already waiting, lights blinking and turbines turning.

"Just where are we going?"

"Someplace special. It will take about an hour to get there. We should have some refreshments on board if you are hungry." She didn't protest, she just climbed aboard and took a seat in one of the comfortable leather lounges in the middle of the cabin. I did the same across the aisle from her. I pressed a button on the side of my arm rest and the captain responded by immediately instructing the crew to get underway. Twenty minutes before my sister was partially dressed and now she was airborne, moving along at nearly the twice the speed of sound and enjoying a gin and tonic and the view. So was I. Her view was of the Cascade Mountains, gliding beneath us. My view was somewhat closer and easier to see. My sister Becky was stunning, absolutely stunning. Thoughts crept into my head, memories, fantasies, all leading to the same conclusion, I averted my gaze finally just to break that endless lustful loop playing over and over in my head.

"Is that Portland?" she asked, seeing the lights of a large city sliding by.

"Probably," I answered, craning to see past her. I left my seat and placed my hand on her armrest to see better out of her side of the plane. When I looked down, I could see that nest of cleavage that I wanted to make a bed in. I felt my cock starting to stiffen and I quickly sat back down. We made small talk the few remaining minutes in the air before landing on the private jet runway at SeaTac airport. We rolled to a stop in the transient hangars and a limousine pulled up to then gangway. We stepped out of the G5 and into the black limo, pausing only to note that it was chilly in Seattle. When isn't it chilly in Seattle?

The car made its way to Carmelo's, a family owned Italian restaurant owned by another client and run by his parents. We arrived at the front door and the valet held the limo door open for us as we were ushered right inside, past the scores of waiting patrons, and to our waiting table. At the table was an open bottle of local red wine of exceedingly superior quality. Antipasti, salad, fish, pasta, veal, and brandied apricots followed. During the meal she told me all about Matt and how he had been having an affair with his secretary for years, finally leaving Becky to move in with the other woman. I just nodded and tried to be supportive, though inside I was seething. With a couple of calls I might be able for him to have a fatal "accident". I just couldn't do that to my goddaughters. From time to time I would lay my hand on top of hers, trying to appear like I was just the caring big brother, but in reality I was just trying to touch her, each time my skin brushed hers I could feel a jolt of electricity surge through me.

"I know you've been supporting us David," she finally blurted out. "I know Matt has been putting his hand out and you've been covering it for him."

"It was the least I could do. He never needed much, just a little extra now and then to do something special for you and the girls."

"There's no need to lie for him. I know it was more than a 'little extra'. I'll pay it back just as soon as I can. As soon as I figure out how."

"Pay it back? Never! I won't hear of it. In fact, I am putting you on an allowance. The girls too. There is no way I am going to let my favorite sister or my goddaughters want for anything. College, weddings, cars, clothes, vacations, you name it, you'll have it."

She started to cry. "I knew you'd say that. I feel so ashamed."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. You married a loser but he gave you three bright and beautiful daughters. It was a steep price, but I think you came out all right. Besides, I have plenty of money and you are my favorite sister."

"Oh David!" She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and hugged me tight. I could feel her breasts pressed into my chest and deeply inhaled her perfume. Even if I wasn't rich, I would have found a way to support her.

We finished up dinner and dessert and my cell phone vibrated. I looked at the caller and immediately picked up.

"Hello Janet, what's wrong?" My top assistant would only call if it was an emergency, she knew the protocol during my family time.

"Your pilot just picked up the weather report for your return destination. Fog has moved in and is not expected to lift until after noon tomorrow. They are VFR only and that means you can't fly back tonight. I've arranged for a suite at the Crowne for tonight. Your driver already has been notified of the change in plans and the concierge has arranged for suitable travel apparel for your sister for tomorrow. Your suits will be delivered from the jet to the hotel in the next ten minutes. Will there be anything else?"

"What movies are playing in our hotel suite?"

"Jerry Maguire of course." We both laughed.

"Thank you Janet, do something nice for yourself as well."

"Already have. Jonathan will be cutting my hair tomorrow at three." Now it was my turn to laugh. So what it was a fifteen hundred dollar haircut, Janet was the best there ever was. I'd pay ten times that to keep her happy and she knew it, but she never took advantage of it. That's a loyalty that I would never forget. I hung up the phone.

"Fog at your house means we are stuck here overnight. I guess we can have one more bottle of wine and then its off to the Motel 6 for two rounds of Magic Fingers in the vibrating beds and the late, late show."

We did get another bottle of very good chardonnay and sat with the proprietors of the establishment to share it. When it was finally time for us to leave, they wouldn't let me pay the bill. I insisted on leaving a generous tip and to this they finally acquiesced. We got back into our waiting limo and were taken directly to the Crowne hotel, Seattle's most posh. I slid a few hundreds at the driver and thanked him for the service and he promised to be available whenever we needed him in the morning, beginning bright and early. I told him no sooner than eight. The concierge was waiting for us at the glass and brass doors and walked us to the bank of elevators himself. He handed a gold card to an attendant the materialized from somewhere. This attendant inserted the gold card into our private elevator and we were soundlessly lifted into the night sky of Seattle. I tried to tip the attendant but I was rebuffed.

"My name is Wade, I am the butler for this suite. Press any gold button in any room and I will answer. Your suits are in the closet in the master suite sir, and your dresses are in the walk in closet in the master bath Madame."

"My dresses?" Becky asked. "I didn't bring any extra clothing...."

"It's all been arranged Mrs. Paul." He gave us a brief tour of the suite and then soundlessly disappeared. I had a feeling Wade could give Janet a run for his money.

"Did you hear that? He thought I was your wife." Becky laughed and I was glad to hear it. She had done far too little laughing throughout the evening. "Let's go look at my wardrobe."

Instead of a few changes in clothing, the entire walk-in closet was completely filled with all sorts of apparel from casual to formal and sporty to sexy. She pulled out a silk teddy and held it out for my inspection.

"I don't like it," I stated. "It doesn't look good on a hangar."

"Where do you think it WOULD look good?"

"On you," I replied boldly. "For a minute. Then it would look great flung over the lamp across the room."

"David," she scolded me. "You are so bad!"

"Don't mind me. It's just the wine talking. And the twenty-something years I've had the hots for you."

She blushed. "Do you remember that game we played as kids, 'Truth-or-Dare?'" I acted like I was having a hard time remembering then I replied.

"Vaguely."

"Let's play again."

"OK, but let's get a drink first." I went to the bar and made a pitcher of Tom Collins's and grabbed two tall glasses filled with ice and headed to the gigantic leather couch that faced the Seattle skyline, now somewhat below us and spread out like a blanket of lights. "Do you want to go first?"

"Sure," she replied. "Truth-or-Dare?"

"Truth."

"Just how many women have you slept with?"

"I honestly don't know. Maybe a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty." She seemed shocked by the number.

"My turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"How many men have YOU slept with?"

"One."

"Just Matt? I'm so sorry sis. Was he any good?"

"I don't think so. I never had an orgasm with him."

"You've never had an orgasm?"

"I didn't say that. Just not with him. My girlfriend bought me a little helper and that has kept my sex life somewhat tolerable. But that's too many questions. My turn: Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever had sexual thoughts about a member of your family?"

"Sure. I am having some right now, thank you for the reminder." I laughed and took a moment to pour us each another Tom Collins. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about.....me?" There was a long pause. She looked away, sighed, and turned to face me. She raised her eyes to meet mine.

"Yes." She bit her lower lip as she said it, wondering if she might have gone too far. "Truth or dare?" she finally asked.

"Dare." I was eager to move the subject to something else before my fantasy collided with reality.

"I dare you to kiss me." The combination of alcohol and altitude must be affecting her, I thought. But I kissed her anyway. She didn't kiss like my sister. She kissed like my lover, passionate and fiery. It was a full thirty seconds before we broke apart.

"Truth or dare?" I asked.

"Dare," she challenged me.

"I dare you to let me strip you." She turned bright crimson and shook her head, earring sparkling as she did so.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

I moved closer to her and undid the single catch that was holding her dress in place. It slid off of her shoulders and around her waist. "Stand," I commanded and she did, allowing the dress to puddle up at her feet. I lifted the silk camisole over her head and was left with the red bra and panties as well as the garters and silk stockings. I pulled her closer and kissed her stomach and the V between her breasts. I kissed and nibbled the bare skin between her stockings and her panties. I unclipped the stockings and gently rolled them down her legs, she took a seat on the couch and I knelt before her to remove them all the way. I nuzzled her feet, which was a surprising turn-on for her. I reached up and deftly undid the single clasp on the front of her lacy brassiere. It parted, revealing two perfectly shaped breasts of a young woman, including the pert and erect nipples. I licked each breast in turn, carefully avoiding any contact with her aereolas.