“I want to take a bath,” Daria told me apropos of nothing.
“And you’re telling me this because?” I asked, knowing exactly why she told me.
“Because I want you to share it with me.”
“I’m in the middle of this show, honey.”
She pouted. “Please? TV is boring.” Her hand grasped mine and gave a little tug.
“And a bath is exciting?”
“If we’re both in it, yes.” She picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“You’re so bossy,” I pretended to complain.
She grinned and pulled harder on my hand. I stood to follow her into the bathroom. There were cut flowers in a vase, three flickering candles, and romantic music softly playing.
“Nice. You prepared for this,” I observed.
“It’s part of my plan to pamper my big sister endlessly,” she teased.
She let the water run until hot, then plugged the drain of our big, white freestanding tub. To it she added bath salts and several drops of scented essential oils.
She had me sink into the water first, then snuggled in with me. Steam wafted in the heat of the bathroom. The hot water turned our skin rosy pink. Every ounce of tension melted out of my muscles.
We languidly kissed and caressed each other. Our fit, young, supple bodies twined together but we weren’t trying to get off. Being together was enough.
“You have the best ideas,” I murmured between kisses.
“Always listen to your little sister,” she stated with a smile.
I brushed wet hair away from her eyes. “I love you,” I confessed, “with all my heart.”
Daria’s smile broadened. “I love you too, Ellie. I’ve never felt so connected to anyone.”
“I wonder how much being sisters has to do with the way we feel?”
“Probably a lot,” she opined. “Is it a problem?”
“Honestly, the kinkiness turns me on,” I confessed.
“Me too,” she agreed. She pushed two fingers in my pussy and whispered in my ear, “I love making my big sister cum.”
I spread my legs wider. “My little sister knows exactly what I like,” I moaned appreciatively. She did too. The minx was learning to play my body like a violin.
==
DECEMBER 15
Daria looked wistfully at me as I dressed to go to the office. “You have nice clothes,” she sighed.
“I bought all my nice stuff after I moved here,” I informed her. “You should go shopping. Get yourself something really good.”
“I don’t like spending your money.”
“Our money,” I reminded her yet again. “Go shopping.”
“Maybe,” she said.
I could tell she wouldn’t go. “The shops need our support, Daria,” I reasoned with her. “I’ll give you a challenge. Spend at least $300 on clothes for yourself at Walkville shops and I’ll take you out for a romantic dinner tonight. Okay?”
That got her to smile and ask, “Can we go to Lune des Recoltes?” It was a fancy French restaurant.
“Only if you spend at least $300.”
That day I went to see Overhill College, a tiny college located on the southern edge of Walkville.
“You didn’t have to take the time to personally give me a tour, President Dudley,” I told the head of the college.
He smiled. “The Wallace Trust owns our campus and every building on it, Ms Wallace. That makes you our landlord, so I think this is a very productive use of my time.”
I returned his smile. “My mother is an Overhill grad, so I’m going to support the college regardless.”
“Excellent,” he replied. “The Wallace family has always been the major benefactor of our little college. They built all of our buildings, charge us zero rent and pay for the maintenance of the buildings and grounds. We deeply appreciate your benevolence.”
He showed me around the idyllic little campus. It had Gothic architecture and many big mature trees. Students bustled this way and that. “This is exam week, so the students are more harried than usual,” he explained.
Learning about the college was actually quite relaxing and for once I didn’t feel weighed down by my duties. Before leaving campus, I bought Overhill t-shirts and sweatshirts for me and Daria.
When I got home that afternoon, Daria stepped out of our bedroom wearing an elegant long white dress. Its simple sophistication reeked of expensive luxury. “You went shopping,” I observed with a smile.
“Yes, I did. Do you like it?” She turned a circle.
“I love it. You have great taste. How much did it cost?”
“$325,” she answered proudly. “And I bought a couple more dresses too. $690 total.”
“Good for you!” I praised and gave her a hug and kiss. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes,” she chirped. “But the prices are kind of shocking sometimes.”
“We can afford anything so don’t even look at the prices,” I advised. “Are you wearing that to dinner?”
My sister nodded eagerly.
I frowned. “I don’t have anything that nice to wear.”
Daria smirked and teased, “You should go shopping. If you spend at least $300 I’ll take you out to dinner.”
I stuck my tongue out at her and she giggled.
I decided to wear my little black dress. We made an arresting pair, her in a long white dress and me in a short black one.
When we were seated at the fancy French restaurant that Daria chose, she whispered, “Everyone is looking at your legs.”
“They’re looking at you in your gorgeous dress,” I countered.
“I don’t think the men care a bit about my dress,” she joked.
“Some of them probably recognize me,” I said with a frown.
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes. I’m here for a romantic dinner with my girlfriend, not to put on a show for curious townspeople.”
Daria reached across the table to take my hand, and urged, “Ignore them. Focus on me.”
I smiled. “That won’t be hard.”
We had a wonderful time. The restaurant’s ambiance was refined, the music classical, the service attentive, and the food delicious. I ordered wine and the waiter was smart enough to not card Daria. I left a $200 tip, which made Daria’s eyes bug out. “I’m the rich girl in town,” I explained. “If I don’t give huge tips, people will call me stingy.”
After dinner we strolled through a small park that had a Christmas light show. Every tree was strung with thousands of tiny lights. There was a Santa for kids to meet. Daria and I got a photo of us hugging him.