See Your Sister

Lucy may not be the nicest sister, but she’s still your sister- and anyway, she’s right next door. You take one last glance in the mirror, noticing for the first time how your shoulder-length curls bounce as you move, then take a deep breath, turn your doorknob, and walk out. You quickly swivel to Lucy’s door, inhale again, then knock. No response. You knock again. Nothing.

“Lucy,” you begin, then stop, face flushing. Your voice is high, soft, feminine, and the needy pleading tone sends shivers down your spine and an unfamiliar warmth throbbing deep within. Jesus, I’m turning myself on. What kind of perv am I?

“What!?”

As if to answer your question, the door suddenly swings open, and for the second time that day you’re met with a man undeniably sexy funhouse reflection. Lucy’s shorter than you, 5’3’’- fun size, Wally liked to joke, seconds before you punched his shoulder. But you had to admit there was no better word for it. She was curvy, the last remnants of her baby fat plumping up all the right places, in contrast to your tighter, trimmer new body. Her hair was long and straight but the same dark color, and she had a smattering of freckles on her small nose and soft cheeks. Even now, standing before you in a too-big Metallica T-shirt and gym shorts, barely out of bed, she was, well, hot.

And your sister. And hot. And-

Speaking.

“What… the fuck… Jack?”