The washing machine gave a sharp jingle. Fuck the washing machine, Adam thought to himself. His muscles were as heavy as his head felt. Faint sound effects crawled through the floor: random jingles, buzzes, pops. Adam sighed, realizing it was probably his sister Christie feasting on snacks while playing videogames - again, in the middle of the night. He pushed his upper body up, crawled on his feet and left the bedside. He hauled his body forward, following his mental road map only. The relentless roaring of the washing machine had died down, but his ears recalled its rhythm rather vividly. The construct slept in the corner of Adam's room, a filled-to-the-brim laundry basket towering next to it. He saw nothing in the darkness, but stopped right before kicking the basket. He fumbled to open the machine's shutter and reached his hand in. He stuffed the clothes into the dry cleaner on his right-hand side, rinse and repeat until everything was transferred. He reached for the laundry basket and started chipping away at the mountain, one cloth at a time. When his hand stumbled into an oddly squishy fabric, he stopped.
"Uhm..?" Adam grunted.
He squeezed the cloth again and an overbearing smell filled his nostrils. His sluggish brain took its time to connect observation with memory.
"What..? Oh, right, it's just her undies," he sighed.
He shoved his sister's panties into the washing machine, then sunk his hand in the basket again.
"Mmh, more..? Really? Uh..."
He face-palmed out of embarrassment: He could actually deduce which sister the underwear belonged to, because the panties were sweatier and the outline distinctly brittle. They belonged to Lilith, while the first ones were the property of Christie.
The bang of a gun startled Adam. He turned his head around, staring at the walls and window. He couldn't spot any bullet hole. Where was it? The sound had definitely come from close by, that much he was sure of. He dropped the panties and crossed the room with purposely slowed steps. He walked up to the lone window and peeked down at the street. Under the orange glow of street lamps and pure-white snow, he noticed the figure of an unknown female. She was wearing a thick-layered, black winter coat and a red scarf - for some reason she was kneeling down behind Adam's picket fence. She stood up, raising her arm behind her head - a snowball in hand. Adam struck his palm on the window, the glass reverberating from the hit. The girl seized her throwing motion, which was when Adam recognized her. He hurried to open the window, letting in the dry air of a winter's night.
"Lucy? Lucy, what are doing?" the boy asked.
"There you are! You didn't answer the door bell, dumbass!" the girl replied, whipping back her hair.
"The doorbell? I didn't hear anything!"
"Sod off! I rang and called your phone even, but you didn't answer!"
Adam stood there in the window, a breeze sapping the red from his face. The exhaled air of his lungs surged out as puffs of smoke. The threads of memory took their time entangling into a sensible narrative: It wasn't the washing machine's jingle he'd woken up to. He also remembered running out of battery on his cell. Everything made sense now.
"My cell was off, sorry! Just wait there, Lucy - I mean, come to the door! I'll be there in a sec!" he promised and shut the window.
He flung open the door into the upstairs corridor, turned right and tap danced the stairs down. While he walked, he couldn't help but crack a smile. Downstairs lights were out; only the extensive gloom of the flat-screen television lit the place. His ears were greeted by a torrent of music and sound. He watched Christie smashing buttons on her game controller. She was sitting on the couch, the seat covered in salt flakes. Among the button-mashing, the teenager was absent-mindedly grabbing flakes to chew. She giggled with her mouth full, her pig tails jumping, gaze fixed on the screen. Her chest had outgrown her pink tank top, her short shorts slowly suffering the same fate. She hadn't bought new clothes since turning eighteen. Adam even noticed holes in her pants. Her slender middle-body was peeking, unconstrained by the skimpy attire. She was anything but a spiritual person, but still enjoyed sitting in meditation positions. Surrounded by junk food, she sat in a flawless lotus position just for the fun of it, just because she could. Her legs were exposed, covered by neither leggings or even socks.
"Sis... you useless sloth," Adam sighed.
He turned his back at the young woman, shaking his head. He turned left to face the door and was about to unlock it, but his hand was stopped by a sudden thought. He grinned and bent his neck forward to grab a peek from the door hole. He watched as the visitor walked up the porch, her smooth, long hair flopping stiffly - her flocks were a softer shade of black that glistened when light caressed them. They flowed down like a black-and-white picture of a waterfall. Her plentiful hips swung from side to side in rhythm with her steps. Even through the thick winter coat, her bust looked big and soft, like a pair of pillows hidden inside her clothing. She dug a lip balm from her jacket's pocket and rubbed it on her puffy lips. The balm made her fleshy leaves look sugary, like caramel mass. She peeked over her shoulder, like she feared someone was watching her. She then sealed the lip balm between her lips and sucked on its tip for a second.
Adam thought it unbelievable that this girl was still a virgin. Her jacket was short enough to expose her wavy miniskirt, which peeked suggestively; her plump legs stood exposed almost to their very root. She wore a pair of dark brown leather boots that stretched just below her knees. There was so much meat in the little woman's legs; their skin and texture were wholesome. Adam raised his gaze, marveling again at her curves from hips to tummy, from bosom to face. He looked into her brown saucer-shaped eyes which failed to notice the thirsty eyeball in the peep hole. Not even a runaway smile was around to soil the girl's pristine porcelain skin. Adam felt bursting into a song - for him to be able to call this person his girlfriend was his life's grandest privilege. His sweaty fingers fidgeted with the three metal locks and pulled the door open. On the doorway she stood: Lucy, her lively perfume riding in on a sudden gust of wind. Adam couldn't hide the grin in his eyes, though he did conceal the giddy twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Hey! Sorry I didn't, um, get your call. My cell was dead, you know," Adam explained.
"Mmh, it's okay. You hanging nice?" Lucy asked.
"Oh, great, great... I'm great. So, what's up? You're up late, huh?"
"Mmh, yea. Wanted some friendly time. Is your sister here?"
"Uh? You... which... one you mean?" Adam asked, and that was when the staircase begun creaking.
With her long orange hair swinging behind her, Lilith came downstairs with a rush. The stairs gasped under the weight of her energetic steps. With nothing but a loose T-shirt and panties on, her belly button was shamelessly on display. The shirt's chest area was stained by some brownish substance, but that didn't matter. Even dirt looked like a beauty mark when she wore it. Her smile shined on the pair standing in the hallway.
"Heyo, brotherman, who you talking - Lucy? Ohhihihi!" Lilith said in a burst, jumping up and down in joy.
"Hello, Lilith," Lucy said, her arms open like crocodile jaws.
