Portraits of Summer

My real objective was to draw her nearly nude, if not completely so. I had an idea for exactlyhow I wanted to portray her, the pose and the props I wanted to use, but Summer was skittish. I would have to ease her into the idea one small step at a time. It wasn't going to be easy to convince her either. I knew that before I blackmailed her into posing at all. If it took the entire summer, the effort would still be worth it.

I finished my coffee and dressed in a pair of old cutoff jeans. With sketchpad in hand, I made my way to the beach where Summer conveniently kept a row of lawn chairs anchored in the sand. The beach was beginning to come alive with activity when I spotted her in the distance, jogging in my direction. I settled comfortably on a chair and waited.

"Morning!" I called cheerfully as she trotted across the sand to a nearby lounger. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I overslept, I guess."

My apology was merely a mockery of her reluctance. She stubbornly refused to acknowledge my greeting. Her face was completely expressionless.

She unfurled an oversized beach-towel and popped it in the wind to remove any sand before she spread it over a reclining lounge chair. I hurriedly thumbed through my drawing pad until I found a blank page and began making a few rough drafts of her movements.

"That's it! Hold that pose for a minute," I prodded as I quickly scratched a few lines on the blank page.

Of course, she ignored my commands and continued with her movements. She gave me a scathing look and I hid a smirk of satisfaction at her irritation. She deliberately kicked a bit of sand in my direction as she retreated towards the surf. I brushed it from my lap with a few swipes of my hand and shook the remainder from my pad. I peered over the rim of my sunglasses as she dove head-first into an oncoming wave.

I watched, enraptured, as she resurfaced and began a leisurely swim parallel to the shore. I copied the images of her strokes to the paper in my lap. My drawings were crude by comparison. Summer moved with the grace of a swan in the water. Each movement was as carefully orchestrated as a ballet dancer's, perfectly poised and positioned. She had the natural rhythm of a dancer, even when she walked; every limb followed a structured choreography.

When at last she emerged from the surf, Summer's mood had softened somewhat. It seemed she had forgotten her annoyance with me; she was more relaxed and tolerant of my goading. She patted her skin dry with a small towel and handed me a bottle of sunscreen before stretching herself on the lounge chair in the sun.

She put on a pair of protective glasses, leaned forward on her seat, and pointed to her shoulders and back. I tossed my things aside, took a seat on the edge of her chair and hurried to oblige her request.

She gathered her long hair and held it aside while I coated my hands with lotion and began to apply a liberal amount to her bare shoulders. I deliberately took my time, applying more deep massage techniques than actual sunscreen. She moaned quietly in appreciation as I worked my way down her back.

"Feel good?" I asked with a small amount of satisfaction. I was rewarded with a purr of pleasure in response. I couldn't see her eyes behind the dark glasses, but something told me her expression of gratitude was genuine.

"Don't make any plans for the rest of the day," she suddenly blurted. "We're going shopping."

"We?" I asked as my hands suddenly paused mid-stroke. "Shopping for what?"

"You need a new suit," she stated flatly. "In fact, you need a new wardrobe, but I'll settle for a new suit and shoes. We'll do lunch while we're out."

I frowned slightly at the suggestion. For one thing, I didn't relish the idea of clothes shopping, and for another, I wasn't in the position of being so independently wealthy as to be comfortable with splurging my meager assets on something as frivolous as a new suit. There was nothing wrong with my old ones to my way of thinking. I stated as much, plainly discarding the idea.

Summer shifted and lay back in her chair. I paused as I eyed the excess lotion on my palms and the curves of her exposed anterior body. With a flick of her wrists, she indicated she wanted me to continue applying the sunscreen to her front as well.

"You need a new suit for Saturday," she insisted as I tentatively smeared the lotion over her stomach and ribcage.

"I'll pay for it," she added to head off my objections in advance.

My hands suddenly trembled with nervousness as my fingers lightly brushed against the underside of her breasts. I tried to avert my gaze as her nipples perked up beneath the two small triangles of white camouflage.

"What am I now, some charity case?" I snarled with irritation at my own faltering confidence. I could find my way around a woman's body with no problem, but suddenly, I was unable to concentrate on anything except Summer's breasts.

It was no slight stirring I felt in the front of my cutoffs. My penis went from mildly amused to rock-hard in less time than it took for me to draw a breath. For the first time in my life, I felt my sister was acutely aware of her effect on men, particularly me. I deliberately moved my hands lower on her belly and redirected my attention.

I used both hands to spread the lotion over the top of her hip joints. Where most women had love-handles, Summer had nothing more than a slightly soft curve.

Was it my imagination, or did her hips lift slightly when I slid my hands down her sides? My cock throbbed at the idea she might be enjoying my touch. I cleared my throat nervously and tried to look away again.

"Funny you should mention that, but no, it was my idea to go shopping, so like I said, I'm buying," Summer repeated her offer.

The part about mentioning charity almost slipped by me as my gaze trained on her rising and falling breasts once more. I felt like a cobra as I followed the subtle swaying rhythm of her breathing, charmed, if not hypnotized, by the movement.

"I think I forgot to mention that the 'thing' Saturday night is for charity," she casually stated as my gaze flitted from her tits to her crotch.

There wasn't even the slightest hint of honey-gold to be found there. I was almost disappointed when it suddenly hit me that she must be completely shaved bare. I managed to suppress a groan as I shifted my own position and slightly turned my back to her. It served the purpose of concealing the bulge in my shorts from her view. I squirted more sunscreen on her thighs and began to gently knead her legs.

What difference did it make if the event was for charity? I pondered her last remark. Summer was always appearing at charity affairs for some good cause.

"What kind of charity event?" I felt obliged to inquire. It was best to show some interest I thought as I ran my hands over the calves of her legs. Fuck, she had such long, shapely legs.

"It was Mel's idea. It's an auction to benefit the homeless," she explained with an air of nonchalance.

"Remind me to keep my hands in my pockets and leave my checkbook at home," I grumbled under my breath.

"The last thing I need is to come dragging home with some ghastly piece of overpriced pottery that serves no useful purpose," I added with a snort of mockery.

"It's not that kind of auction," she answered as she moderately spread her legs and I worked my way upwards on the insides of her thighs.

"It should be a lot of fun, different anyway," she shrugged. She wasn't exactly giving me an open view of what lay between them, but it made it difficult to maintain my composure.

"Hmm...what kind of auction is it?" I asked as I lapsed into a momentary trance at the idea of bypassing her bikini bottoms and sliding my fingers along her deliciously bare slit. My mouth went dry suddenly and I licked my lips to wet them again.

"It's a bachelor auction and there should be some very wealthy and important people there," she explained with the same casual air of indifference.

"You need a new suit," she repeated. "I'm thinking maybe a smoke grey Brunello Cucinelli. Double-breasted is back in style," she lethargically commented.

It took a full minute for her words to have an impact. I snapped the lid closed on the bottle of sunscreen lotion and replayed the conversation in my head.

A bachelor auction. I needed a new suit, not just any suit, but an expensive, designer suit. Wealthy and important people would be in attendance. My eyes opened wide and I sprang up from the chair nearly stumbling backwards over my own two feet.

"Oh, hell no!" I snarled loudly. She tilted her head and presumably looked up at me from behind her dark glasses. "You're not paradingme around like some prize-winning show dog!"

She laid one hand against her cheek and replied, "Interesting analogy, but putting that aside, I thought we had an agreement. You do want me to pose for you, don't you?"

"Well...yeah!" I stammered. "Sure, I do."

"Every day for nearly a week?" she asked calmly. My stammer quickly turned to a stutter.

"Well, then? In exchange,you agreed to attend Mel's little shindig. It's a bachelor auction andyou, my dear little brother, are an eligible bachelor. If you want me to pose for you, you'll go on the auction block. I guess you should have read the fine print of our agreement," she said with a satisfied smirk. "You'll never learn, will you?"

A thousand things must have gone through my mind to say in response, but when I opened my mouth to speak, all that came out was a lame, "Well, fuck!"

"Exactly!" she sniffed as she stood up and began gathering her possessions. She headed for the beach house at a brisk pace and I trotted doggedly at her heels, panting at the effort to keep up with her. I blurted out every possible objection I could come up with, but she waved them all off without another comment. When we reached the bottom step, I paused, my ribs heaving in and out.

"Alright! You win!" I snapped waspishly. "But, when you pose for me, you have to doexactly what I say. No bullshit excuses.And, you have to give me all day Sunday to make up for Saturday," I insisted.

She turned and faced me with her hands on her hips. She gave me a sharp nod and said, "Okay. Agreed! But, in return, no matterwho bids on you, and no matter what they want you to do,you'll do it. No bullshit excuses," she said firmly.

"Anything?" I asked.

"What if some rich, old, fat lady wants me to fuck her?" I prodded. Surely, Summer would draw the line at that idea.

"Anything!" she reaffirmed.

"And, you'll do anything I tell you to do when you pose for me? Including pose naked?" I asked.

She hesitated for a moment.

"Look, if you expect me to fuck some broad, the least you can do is agree to sit nude for me," I pointed out with impatience. She paused for a few more seconds before nodding slightly. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Then, let's go shopping!" I said.

*****

Our joint shopping expedition was exhausting. We must have visited a half-dozen stores before I saw something that really caught my eye. Summer insisted on choosing from a Brunello Cucinelli collection. Since he was known for his use of natural fabrics, I opted for something less ordinary. It was far too hot for wool, and Italian silk was everywhere. If I wanted to stand out, I needed a more dramatic look; it had to be eye-catching and woman-pleasing at the same time.

I decided on an all-black leather contemporary design. As I stared at myself in the dressing-room mirror, a slow grin spread across my face. Summer wasn't the only one who looked good in expensive clothing. I thought I looked a bit like a cross between a youthful Steven Tyler and Slash. With my dark wavy hair, I presented quite the 'bad-boy' image. When I slid back the curtain and stepped outside the cubicle, Summer's expression told me I was right about that.

She circled me slowly with her mouth slightly ajar.

"What do you think?" I asked with my head egotistically cocked to one side.

I gave the long silk scarf around my neck a little shake for effect. The flamboyant scarf contrasted with the white silk shirt. She passed a strand of my hair between her fingers and gave me a nod of approval.

"I was going to suggest you get a haircut, but now, I've changed my mind," she declared with an expression of awe. "Sonny, you look like a rock-star!" she breathed as she ran her hand along one lapel of my jacket.

"You need boots," she added looking down at my worn sneakers. "Definitely boots," she reiterated with a nod. She turned her attention to the clerk.

"Can you finish the alterations by Friday?" she asked. The clerk, a mousey looking young woman, nodded.

"If you'll step this way, we'll complete the transaction and I'll have Carlos begin working on it today," she assured my sister. Summer already had her credit card in her hand.

A few minutes later, an older man of obvious Latino blood was measuring me upside down and inside out. I took it all in stride until he fell to his knees and his hand strayed to my groin.

"Hey! Hey, hombre! Watch where you're putting your fucking hands," I snarled loudly.

"But, Senor..." he began to argue in earnest.

Summer instantly appeared from behind the curtain. She cast me a deep frown of disapproval while Carlos explained his intentions. Without warning, her hand snaked out and she clutched my entire package firmly in the palm of her hand. I gasped at the sensation of her tight grip on my balls.

If that wasn't enough to shock me to silence, she hissed in my face with a low growl, "Sonny, I just paid forty-five hundred dollars for this fucking suit. The fit is going to be perfect one way or another, with or without your cooperation. Do I make myself clear?"

She paused for a moment before giving me another small squeeze of warning. I nodded weakly and averted my gaze.

"Go ahead, Carlos. Finish what you were doing," she ordered in a calmer tone.

Carlos made quick work of taking my final measurements and scribbling them onto a small notepad he held. I stood motionless as he worked around my sister's hand to obtain his figures. The initial shock of Summer's grip on my cock and scrotum faded and my eyes rolled upwards, focusing on the ceiling as I tried to control my response.

If Summer noticed, she said nothing, which made the situation that much more unbearable for me. At the very least, she could have paid me some small compliment. How can any woman hold a man's junk in the palm of her hand and not saysomething, anything at all?

Maybe she felt she had expended her quota of compliments for the day when she told me I looked like a rock-star. Maybe she thought I didn'tfeel as much like a rock-star as I looked.

I found myself trailing her once again as she made a hasty exit from the store a few moments later. Her continued irritation was apparent in the way she slammed the door open and never looked back to see if I was following her. Of course, my arms were loaded with packages so it impeded my attempt to keep up with her pace.

Annoying Summer wasn't one of my more pleasurable hobbies, but it happened frequently, and with little to no effort on my part. I made a more concerted attempt to avoid stepping on her very last nerve for the remainder of our shopping excursion, mainly because I still had ideas about doing some rough sketches of her later in the evening.

Summer and I seldom, if ever, openly discussed sex. Our parents didn't encourage sex education at home. We were both left to learning about it from the usual sources, friends, books and movies mostly. My friends made the usual overtures to my sister in high school, but by the time we attended college, we ran with different crowds and avoided one another in the social scene. Summer dated a variety of college boys, but I never gave much thought as to how active, or not, she was sexually speaking.

After I joined the military, Summer and I seemed to drift even further apart. There were occasional phone calls, and naturally, some visits home coincided with holiday events, but there was none of the deep bonding expected from twins during those years.

Our emotional regard for one another developed when we reached the benchmark of our twenty-fifth birthday. As adults, the subject of sex just never seemed to come up between us. We respected each other's privacy and neither of us spoke openly about who we were dating, or just how involved we were with anyone.

When I came to live with her in Florida, it brought about a new sexual tension. For the first time in our lives, I began to see my sister as a woman. Seeing her in that light, as other men saw her, created a hunger in me. As her brother, it made things awkward at times.

Summer never gave any indication she was curious or interested in me in any way. She ignored my glances and comments for the most part. That is, right up until she grabbed my crotch. The more thought I gave to the incident, the more I believed her silence was caused by her annoyance with herself, rather than with anything I had said or done.

If that were the case, I decided it was time I grow up a little and treat her the same way I would treat any other woman I knew, with respect and dignity. That was going to be easier said than done.

Sisters are sisters, and women are women; it never dawned on me that Summer could be both. Besides, I didn't take life too seriously in general. I lived by the philosophy that as hard as life is...it owes everyone a little spontaneity and fun. It's difficult to be respectful and dignified while you're having fun. But, for Summer, I was determined to give it a try.

It was late afternoon when we returned to the beach house. I was certain Summer was on the verge of never speaking to me again. She disappeared to her room for a while and reemerged with a cell phone to her ear when she heard the sound of the blender in the kitchen. She gave me a suspicious scowl when I handed her a tall, frothy juice drink and shooed her towards the deck. A moment later, I poked my head through the door and jangled her car-keys to let her know I was going out.

"Hang on," she muttered into the phone. "Where are you going?" she asked impatiently.

"To the store. I thought I'd make dinner, but we're out of everything. I won't be long," I promised.

She turned her attention to the caller on the line and ignored me. In fact, she ignored me for the remainder of the afternoon. She lounged on the deck, alternating between talking on the phone and reading while I worked diligently in the kitchen to prepare a simple but palatable meal for two.

It was dusk when I lightly tapped on her bedroom door and announced in a mock tone, "Dinner is served."

She flung it open and my eyes widened with surprise. Summer must have showered and changed while I was busy in the kitchen. She looked as though she had stepped off the cover of a vintage magazine. Her long blonde hair was tightly pulled back in a ponytail, tied in place with a pink ribbon. The style matched the sundress she was wearing.

It was snow white with a bodice that hugged her opulent boobs before tightly gathering at the waist and spilling down slightly below the knee. Above the hem, large pastel flowers appeared as broad strokes of an artist's brush, the petals as wide as my hand. They drew attention to her tanned calves and slender ankles. White sandals showed off her freshly painted pink toenails. A soft, white cashmere sweater draped her shoulders as an accessory to complete the nostalgic look.

Her perfume was as light and breezy as the image she presented. I pulled a handful of daisies and wildflowers from behind my back and held them out to her.

"For you. A handful of weeds," I said with a mischievous grin. She eyed me suspiciously before she sniffed them. I don't know why women always feel obliged to sniff flowers. Daisies have no real scent, but she inhaled them just the same.