My name is Gabby, 22, single, working in a big city. I have always been kind of a party animal, and the last thing I would be called is a straight arrow. I'm "unconventional," and usually dress like a slut to show off my G cup tits, flat stomach, and killer ass. Actually, you can sum me up in two words: sexy bitch.
I rented a two bedroom apartment with another girl, but she moved out several months ago, leaving me high and dry. I couldn't afford the apartment by myself and I was in distress. I talked with my mom about this and she said my older brother John (26) was moving to the same city the next week, and maybe I could share with him. I had talked with John about a week ago and knew he had gotten a good job offer, but didn't know he had accepted.
Let me tell you a little about John. He is about 6 feet 5 inches, well over 200 pounds, with bulging arm and thigh muscles; he was the starting tight end on the high school football team, and in college too. While we have the same parents, you wouldn't know it by our personalities and life styles. He is almost the opposite of me. He is a typical straight arrow, who dresses conservatively. We never went to high school at the same time, but the guys while I was in high school knew him, or of him, and I could always invoke his name if I wanted to keep someone in line.
John's new job is a really good one with a great salary and benefits, and he can easily pay his half of the rent. I know if I asked him he would make up for the half of the last month's rent that my previous roommate stuck me with, and would put up half of the damage deposit too. He is a solid, honest, hard-working guy, but also a neat freak who might drive me crazy with his fastidiousness. But if he agreed not to interfere with my life style it could work out since my apartment is set up with the two bedrooms on opposite sides of the kitchen and common living area, and each bedroom had its own bathroom.
I called John and talked to him about moving in. I wanted him to promise not to interfere with my lifestyle -- and I wouldn't with his -- and asked if he really wanted to move in. He thought it would be great, even though we had not lived full time under the same roof for 7 or 8 years. We never had any serious problems getting along when we were growing up, just conventional big brother-little sister shit.
I have to say though that after John moved in we seemed as incompatible as oil and water. He didn't drink, seemed to only date really clean cut, take-home-to-mom, types of girls, insisted on keeping everything tidy, and was very protective of his "stuff," especially his laptop. I loved to party, was inherently messy, often left my "stuff" lying in the common area, sometimes picked up one-night-stands, and got drunk about every other weekend.
While we did talk frequently, and once in a great while he would make dinner for us -- I don't really cook -- we weren't real chummy and rarely did things together. I also could tell I often irritated him by leaving junk strewn around, and one time I used his shower when mine wasn't working and he was pissed I didn't leave it in the pristine condition he wanted. BFD.
I was starting to think he was a pain in the ass. But that changed one Saturday night. I and a girlfriend of mine brought two guys home from a bar. My friend was totally drunk and passed out. That left the two guys to work on me. I decided I didn't really like them -- they became real crude and vulgar - and finally told them to get the fuck out. They wouldn't listen and began mauling me. John woke up when I started screaming, and came out of his bedroom. He apparently took my screams to mean that I would not consider his intervention to be a violation of his "non-interference" pledge. The assholes made the mistake of giving John lip when he told them to leave immediately.
This is a sex story, not a violence story, so I won't relate what happened. Let me just say that I was very impressed with John and would never have trouble with those two again, and had confirmed my feelings of complete security when he was around.
I apologized to John for waking him up. He said "no problem," and didn't give me any shit about bringing back two jerks, and didn't even give me a dirty or disapproving look. He just wanted to be sure I was OK. He then carried my drunk girlfriend to my bed, and went back to his room.
After that night, I saw a change in John. He was less harsh when I -- according to him -- fucked up. He fronted my half of the rent a couple of times when I was a couple of days late. If I was around he always asked me if I wanted him to make me something when he made dinner. And I could swear a couple of times I saw him checking out my body, though he never made an even remotely sexual comment.
