Forgetting for a moment the fact I was almost paralyzing myself with the amount I wanked over her, she was still my little sister, and I still had ‘big-brother’ instincts rearing-up all over the place whenever I thought of some slack-jawed, skinny, greasy zit-farm touching her and defiling her body; it creeped me out and made my blood boil at the same time.
So I’d tell her to cover them up, because mum would have a fit if she saw her like that. She’d just dimple at me, and blithely ignore me, but at least she knew now that her being so scantily dressed was not something I needed to see from my little sister (oh, but it was, it was…)
I used to joke with her when she was younger, calling her ‘Big Bum’, which kind of played to her insecurities; Nim wanted more than anything to be a consumptive-looking, skeletal, heroin-chic waif like some of these so-called ‘supermodels’; alas, she was blessed with the figure of a Fifties movie starlet; a firm, heart-shaped bottom, pinched-in wasp-waist, and boobs that looked bigger than they were because of her tiny waist; when she put on a swimsuit she looked like Annette Funicello or Sandra Dee, or one of the other teen stars of all those beach movies mum liked so much; if she’d been a teen in the Fifties or Sixties, they’d definitely have snapped her up, because she was just the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, even then, and well on the way to being traffic-stoppingly beautiful.
*
It all really started to ramp-up after Easter, Nim’s second year at uni. I was lounging one afternoon, watching TV and really not paying attention, when Nimmie breezed into the room. I was bored, so I thought I’d wind her up a little.
“Hi Big-Bum, where you been?”
“I have not got a big-bum, you lanky streak!” she flashed in sudden annoyance at me, which only made me grin and stick my tongue out. I sauntered around behind her and looked her up and down.
“No, you’re right there, you don’t have a big bum; it looks just fine from here!” With that, I wolf-whistled, the one thing that really winds her up, as I well knew.
She spun around and thumped me on the chest, eyes blazing, so I backed away, still grinning, holding my hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay, you win, your bum’s perfect, and someday some lucky bloke’s going to find out just how perfect; of course, that will be just seconds before he dies, because I will definitely kill him, you can count on that!”
She smiled and batted her eyelashes at me, smiling happily.
“Would you weally, weally, do that for me, Big Bwuvver?” she lisped, making me grin even wider.
“Of course I would; you’re my little sister; anyone who touches you will end up with my foot shoved up his arse, count on it!”
Her voice took on a wheedling, cajoling tone, one I knew well from when she was smaller and wanted her own way (which I usually gave her; she WAS my cute little sister, after all, who actually didn’t know just how lovely she really was, as well as being a genuinely nice person to boot).
“Rowan, I have to go to a party in a few weeks. It’s a weekend house-party, and I need to bring someone; no-one is going to want to be my date, not with you looming over me like Mister Angry, and I doubt mum’s going to be happy if I go away for the weekend with just anyone, so I’d like you to come along as my chaperone, whatever, because I’m going, I promised I would, and I can’t back out now. What say you, will you help out your little sister? Pleeeeaasse?”
OK, I didn’t see that coming. I sat down and looked up at her.
“What does mum have to say about this? Does she know you’re planning on disappearing off to God knows where for a whole weekend? I know you’re nineteen, but you’re still a bit young to just go traipsing off alone into the wide blue yonder.”
She bit her lip, something I’ve always loved in her; it’s such a cute mannerism, and she had such lovely rosebud lips and white, even teeth, too…
“Rowan, please, I really want to go, all my friends are going, please come with me; who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky?”
I grinned at that.
“Nimmie, are you setting me up with one of your numpty friends? I know them all. They don’t know anything about the real world, and I don’t know anything about fashion, One-Direction, X-Factor, Big Brother, or MTV, so that’s not gonna happen!”
She slapped my shoulder, probably harder than she meant, because I actually winced.
“You know that’s not true! If you come with me, I can have a weekend with my friends, and no boys will bother me, not with ugly, scary Rowan hanging around!”
I grinned even wider at that, trying not to laugh.
“‘Ugly, scary Rowan?’ You’re not exactly making any friends here, Big-Bum!”
“Ro-wann!!” she gritted, so I backed off.
“Okay, I’ll do it, but you’ll owe me, Nimmie, are we clear on that?”
She stared at me wide-eyed, and actually simpered.
“So what do you want in return, Rowan? Ask away, whatever it is, the answer’s yes!”
Okay, she asked for it, and I couldn’t resist it, so I leered at her and winked suggestively.
“I dunno, wha’ you got’s to give, hermanita?” I drawled, doing what I thought was a reasonably good L. A. street gang voice, while I looked her up and down even more suggestively, licking my lips for added effect.
Nim gasped in outrage.
“Rowan Redman, what did… how dare you, you pig!” she stormed, and I smirked at her; good, that’s what you get for making such a bloody stupid offer. Time to tell her some of the facts of life.
“I dared because you left that door open, Nim, you numbskull! How many times have I told you, don’t go making offers like that to guys, we’re all the fucking same! If you show the dog the rabbit, he’s going to fucking pounce! As your older brother, and the token grown-up around here, I thought perhaps I should let you in on that! Now, you don’t owe me, I said I’d go with you, and I will, and I will gladly look out for you, but if you even try and set me up with any of your pinheaded friends, and especially that bonehead Janice, I will fix you, I swear; if she and her chest and her empty head are there, I’m dragging you back home, got it? The girl’s an idiot…”
Nim squealed and bounced onto the sofa next to me, hugging me, and planting a big sloppy kiss right next to my mouth. I wasn’t expecting that, nice as it was, so I feigned shock and fended her off, spluttering as convincingly as I could. Nim didn’t seem to care; she was beaming as she hugged me again and jumped to her feet.
“Thank you, thank you Rowan; I promise you’ll have a great time, and I swear: no Janice, cross my heart!”
I had to grin at the memory of the last time I’d encountered her pal Janice, all Bambi-eyes and cleavage, at a party in Woldingham.
“I should hope not, Nim, not after that party at your mate Kylie’s place; she tried staring meaningfully into my eyes when we danced, and when I stared back, all I could see was the inside of her head, and way off in the distance, light leaking in through her earholes; there’s dim, there’s really, really, dim, and then there’s Janice…”
For once Nim didn’t defend her half-wit friend, the one person on the planet who actually didn’t know how to walk and chew gum at the same time; instead, she fairly skipped happily out of the room, off to make plans, or whatever. I sat back on the couch, still feeling the slight pressure of her lips next to mine; it had felt nice, it had felt too nice, and I couldn’t let it happen again, not with Nim. Still, if only…