Misc. Erotica Summer of Sisters 2

Mom called us down to dinner an hour later, and I was surprised when Bonnie joined us. Normally, when she was in a mood, my middle sister would spend the entire night and maybe the next day holed up in her room, but she slouched into her seat and accepted the proffered bowl of fettuccini alfredo.

“How was your first day at work, honey?” Mom asked me as she passed the parmesan cheese.

“It was cool,” I said, and would have left it at that if she hadn’t waved her hand for me to continue.

“Just ‘cool’?”

“Well,” I said with a grin, “I didn’t want to say anything because of Aniston, but the person they assigned to me is in her sorority.”

“Really?!” Bonnie asked, sitting forward eagerly, her mood forgotten at the excitement of gossip about her hated sister. “Which one?”

“Fiona,” I said, and interestingly Bonnie’s amusement dried up and her lips pursed in a sour expression. “Do you know her?”

“Only by reputation,” Bonnie said with a sniff.

“What kind of reputation?” Mom asked, and I was surprised to find her heavy stare leveled at me as she asked my sister.

“She isn’t a slut or anything,” Bonnie said, and my mom let out a sigh of relief. “But she has all the boys twisted around her fingers,” Bonnie shrugged as if she didn’t care, but I could sense anger beneath the surface, and she stabbed at her pasta as she scooped it up. “Even if she just teases them. That’s what Aniston says at least.”

“You know how your sister can be,” Mom said, offering a shrug. “Does she seem nice, Jake?”

“Yea,” I said, then went on to explain what I’d been helping her learn. I left out my observations about how adorable I thought Fiona was, but from mom and Bonnie’s frowns I suspected they guessed my feelings.

“It sounds like you’re going to be a great help to her,” mom said when I finished. “Just make sure she doesn’t distract you from your future.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I remember what it was like when I was your age,” mom said, taking a deep sip of wine and ignoring my belligerence as she went on. “It feels like everything must be done and it must be done right now. Just remember that you have everything you need at home, Jake… and don’t let some flirty coed push you off your path.”

“She’s right, Jake,” Bonnie said, and I was more surprised to hear it coming from her than my mom.

“It’s just a part-time summer job,” I said defensively. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but Fiona’s four years older than me.”

“So were Laura and Victoria,” mom said with a snort, staring into her wineglass.

When she looked up, I saw the realization of what she’d just say sweep over her face, and she went white as a ghost. A flush of embarrassment swept over me as I wondered just what she knew or guessed at. Bonnie’s face was burning with curiosity, her eyes flickering between me and mom.

“I think I’ve had too much wine,” mom said, reaching up and pressing a hand to her cheek.

Standing on wobbly legs, she fled from the dining room, her meal unfinished, the wine still swirling around in her glass. The awkward silence grew between Bonnie and me, pregnant with unspoken questions, until she reached over and took my mom’s unfinished wine glass and downed its contents.

Glancing up at me shyly from beneath her long lashes, she drew in a deep breath. Spots of color appeared in her cheeks as her lips parted, an admission or question hovering on her tongue. I’d never know which because at that moment the front door opened and slammed closed and the unmistakable scent of Aniston’s perfume proceeded her into the dining room.

“I didn’t miss dinner, did I?”

I glanced up and felt my jaw drop as I took in my eldest sister, while Bonnie let out a strangled sound from the back of her throat and fled from the room, silverware clattering as she pushed back from the table.

“What I do?” Aniston asked with a frown as she watched her sister stalk off, then with a shrug she refilled mom’s wineglass and took her seat.

“Why are you home?” I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

“It’s my home too,” Aniston said with a frown. “I don’t have to explain myself.”

The expression didn’t hold though as she collapsed into my mom’s empty chair and let out a long sigh. My annoyance with her didn’t last when I saw the vulnerable, worried expression work its way onto her face. Aniston is many things, but vulnerable is never one of them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, but it was out of reflex, and she offered me a silent apology a moment later. “It’s this audition I have tomorrow morning. I need a quiet space to do it in but… This is my last chance trying to get a summer internship with the local affiliate. If this doesn’t work… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“It didn’t work out with ESPN?”

“Hmph!” she grunted and shook her head. “If I wanted to spend my summer on my knees in Bristol, I could have gotten an internship. But the summer program is a boys’ club.”

“Have you tried going live on TicToc or Insta?”

“No,” she said with a frown, “Why?”

“They’re full of clips and highlights but no commentary,” I shrugged, feeling my cheeks head but pushing through the awkwardness. “You know what you’re talking about and could keep their interest better than anyone on television.”

She made a face and waved dismissively. “I’ve never been into ‘Thirst Culture’. I’m not like Victoria and Laura, posting bikini photos for more followers.”

“It doesn’t have to be for titillation. But you can’t deny you’re beautiful, and that’s an asset. Don’t be afraid to use it to get what you want.”

“When did you grow up?” She asked with a crooked grin, “Since when did you start giving me advice?”

“Since I learned to be bold, and not care what others think.”

Aniston’s eyes sparkled and her smile took on a familiar cruel cast, “You seemed to care what Laura and Victoria thought last night.”

My confidence from a moment before vanished, replaced by anxiety creeping over me. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably as Aniston’s smile took on a biting edge. The air grew cold, and I searched for something to say to break the tension and blurted the first thing I could think of.

“I’m tutoring your sorority sister, Fiona.”

Aniston’s eyes flickered over to me, but her expression never changed as she downed the last of the wine glass’s contents.

“I heard,” she said, eyes hardening but lips working in a plastic smile. “She wouldn’t shut up about it when she got home.” Her lips pursed into a sour frown, and she stood, grabbing her bag, and turning to head upstairs. “Watch out for Fiona, she’s a flirt who seems to enjoy friend-zoning buys and slowly breaking their hearts.”

“I don’t think I have to worry about that,” I said and was about to add a self-deprecating joke when Aniston turned with an angry mutter as she stalked upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

Grumbling sourly to myself, I rose and cleaned off the table. My annoyance didn’t fade as I washed the dishes, only grew. My head spun in circular thoughts about Aniston. I couldn’t get her dismissive expression out of my head, and it wasn’t until I fell into bed that I wondered why it bothered me so much.

My oldest sister had always been a guiding light of sorts for me. She was the most beautiful girl in our school, and the most popular. If she liked a thing, then it was cool. I’d spent half my time in school trying to dress and do things that would impress her, but none of it worked.

I’ve been going about it the wrong way, I thought to myself as sleep dug its subtle fangs into me. The one thing I’d learned from my experience with Laura and Victoria was, women loved a man who was bold. And there was nothing bold about conforming to a woman’s ideal.​