Sisters Summery Shadow

There exists an unspoken, irrational hate whenever your sibling succeeds in life. If you can't relate, then congrats, maybe you're a well-adjusted adult. Otherwise, you might be me—John Adelson.

Growing up, the mere aura of my older sister made me question every interaction with others. In high school, I second-guessed if dudes only wanted to be my friend so they could get in Belle's pants. Or with the females, if they only spoke to me so they could squeeze themselves into my sister's clique.

You try living out your formative years constantly on edge, paranoid whether or not people ever liked you for you. Spoiler alert: It sucks.

The young version of Belle, the one I'd grown up with, wasn't always the paradigm of perfection. People didn't know all the times she'd gotten her way with our parents because she was destined to become a successful model and endorsement magnet.

Since I myself had much less exciting prospects, I got the table scraps of attention. As did our younger brother, Noah (God rest his soul in heaven).

Fast forward to today, to this damn summer getaway.

Belle had invited me, on a whim, to spend a weekend with her at a tropical resort. She'd branded it:

sibling bonding time that was long overdue

. In reality, I'd wager this trip was originally meant for her and her husband. He probably had to drop out due to work demands.

And so, here I was, my sister's convenient backup plan. Even now, with both of us approaching 30, I was still getting the pitiful table scraps...

***

CHAPTER I

RAGE & RELAXATION

I was admiring the row of palm trees lining the resort's frontage when I felt a force on my back, forearms snaking around my neck, long honey blonde hair spilling over my shoulders.

"Hey idiot," she said. "Miss me?"

"Damn you're heavy! Someone's graduated to a plus-size model," I said.

"Jerk." Belle hopped off my back, spun me around. "Give me a real hug. I missed you."

I deftly dodged her oncoming arms. "You missed me so much that you flew me out here, to meet you at this five-star oasis. I didn't realize I'd become your Make-A-Wish kid."

"Yikes, someone woke up with a bad case of snark," she said with a smile, shaking her head. "Well, just glad you decided to come. Would've been fun if you'd also joined that cruise I invited you on."

"The one you would've paid for too, the one with your husband's family. Yeah, no thanks. I like Artie, but I'm a busy man. Got my own things going on."

"Oh jeez, alright." Belle sighed. "Let's just head in already."

I trailed my older sister as we rolled our suitcases inside the resort's lobby. Couldn't not notice Belle's attire: a thin white cover-up over her bikini-clad body. Of course her figure was to die for. She spent her free time at gyms and fitness studios to maintain that killer shape, which to me, reeked of masochism in the name of vanity.

When we checked into our room, I realized my sister must've shelled out quite a bit for this level of luxury. We weren't staying in a boring square box with beds. We had an expansive suite, complete with amenities, too many pieces of furniture, and a private deck connected to the beach.

However, there was only one bedroom. And only one bed.

"Really, Belle?" I said, upon my realization of our sleeping situation. "Couldn't get us a suite with two beds?"

"I think they were all booked, sorry."

Right, sure they were, Belle

. My theory felt validated, that I was indeed the backup option after her husband had dropped out. I watched Belle park her suitcase in the bedroom, as if it was a given that she deserved the better sleeping space.

"Of course you're taking the room," I said.

"Oh, do you want it?" she asked. "I can take the fold-out in the living area."

"You wouldn't."

"Or we can share the bed. It's an Alaskan King. Big enough for me and you. Plus your ego." She grinned.

"Hah, good one," I said, my trademark snark. "I'd rather sleep in a boiling pot. I'll take the living room."

"Suit yourself." Belle chuckled. "Ready to get our massages?" she asked.

"Our what?"

"It's the first thing I like to do on vacation, especially after a long flight. So I booked us a couple's massage."

"We're not a couple, dummy," I said.

"It's just what it's called."

"Call it something different."

"Do you not want to do it?" she asked.

"No, I'll do it."

"Jesus Johnny," Belle said, exasperated. "Okay, let's go then."

***

I begrudgingly followed Belle to the resort's spa center. Not that I was opposed to a massage at this moment. But it would've been nice if she'd given me a heads-up, gotten my input. She always planned shit on her own terms. Whatever Princess Belle wanted, she got.

My sister walked up to the staffer. "Hi. I've got a reservation for a couple's massage under my name. Belle Adelson."

"Great," the female employee said. "And I'm assuming this is your partner." She looked at me.

"Partner in crime, yep," Belle replied, cheerily. "His name's John. Adelson too."

I noted Belle's pride when she boasted our family name. To be honest, it bugged me that she'd even kept it after tying the knot to Artie. Reminded me of when we were kids, when she'd already finished her own popsicle, but got our parents to split my ice cream sandwich so she could have a half...

The staffer led us into a private room with two massage beds, complemented by lit candles and calming wind-chimed music.

"About your massage therapists," the staffer said, "do you two have a gender preference?"

"Is a Douglas available?" Belle asked. "I read some good reviews online."

"I'll check, ma'am. In the meantime, feel free to undress and lie face down on your respective beds. There's a modesty towel to drape yourself below the waist. There'll be a knock before they enter."

Once the staffer left, Belle began casually undressing with her front to me. First went her white cover-up. Then she reached for her bikini strings.

"Yo!" I shouted. "Turn around at least! This ain't one of your loosey-goosey photoshoots."

"Relax!" She laughed. "We took baths together, if you forgot."

"That was decades ago! Update your damn calendar." I turned my back to her as I wiggled out of my summer shorts.

"Such a prude." Belle giggled like a dumb schoolgirl. "When's the last time you got laid?"

"Hell if I tell you that. Turn around, Sis! And you better not be looking at my ass."

"Aww, you've still got such a cute butt."

I angrily looked behind me, only to find that Belle was, in fact, facing the wall.

This bitch

. She'd only been teasing.

"So Johnny, rumor has it that you hooked up with my husband's niece at my wedding. Roux must've been 22-ish at that time. I didn't know college seniors were your type."

Dammit, how'd Belle even know this? More alarmingly, she was hovering too close to an embarrassing truth, that that had been the last time I'd gotten laid, well over a year ago...

"Keep facing the wall," I said, instead of addressing my sister's comment. I plopped face down on my massage bed, quickly covered myself below the waist with the modesty towel.

"So what happened between you and Roux then, after my wedding?" Belle followed up, not letting go of the topic.

"She went back to New York. It was what it was, Belle."

"I love Roux, but you deserve better than a one-night stand."

"I don't need your pity," I said.

We heard a soft knock on our door.

"Come in," Belle said.

With my face in the oval-shaped cradle, I couldn't see my sister but I could hear her. She was still shifting into place on her bed.

"Oh sorry about that, ma'am," a man said.

"You're fine," Belle said. "You can place the towel below my waist for me."

Ugh, of course, Belle

. Shameless. She had no qualms showing off her naked body.

"My name's Douglas, ma'am. I understand that you've requested for me."

"I sure did," my sister said, a suggestive grin likely on her face.

"Great, you can rest your face in the hole. I'll get started on you momentarily." Douglas likely had the same sleazy grin as my sister, no doubt enjoying her nudity. He added, "And sir, hold tight, I'll get my colleague, Tom, to work on you."

***

Thirty minutes later, I was frankly enjoying my massage, feeling calm and relaxed. My mood was only disrupted by a certain sound that was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.

A soft moan had come from my sister. Seconds later, I heard another. Then again, another. What the hell was Belle's deal? I lifted my face from my cradle to investigate.

With Belle face down, belly to her bed, this Douglas guy had his hand underneath the cloth draped at her waist, the outline of his fingers dangerously close to her privates.

There was no way he was actually touching her there, in this professional setting, with me and his colleague just a breath away. That was, unless, Belle had told him to do it...

"Sir, you can turn over," my masseur, Tom, said quietly to me. "I'll massage your forehead and scalp."

As I began to shift my position, I paused, noticing something unusual below my waist: a half-erection.

What the fuck?

Stupid Belle and her stupid moans must've involuntarily aroused me. Swear on our mother, I would've rather gotten hard to a rainy funeral than to the thought of my sister!

"Um, keep working on my back, please," I whispered to Tom, aiming to avoid embarrassment.

Another half hour later, Tom let me know the massage was over. When I picked my head up, the first thing in view was the backside of my sister's masseur.

"Again, my name's Douglas," he said to Belle. "Feel free to book me anytime during the remainder of your stay."

I looked past him at Belle, still on her bed. She was on her stomach, eyes glazed over like she'd died and gone to heaven.

***

CHAPTER II

SUNBLOCK TO UNLOCK

An hour later, Belle and I were hanging outside, on a pair of sun loungers next to the sparkling blue pool. Dozens of other loungers lined the perimeter, sparsely filled with other well-off guests who looked like they also shared my sister's tax bracket.

"Do you think Mom did the best she could with us? When we were growing up," Belle asked.

"Okay,

that

isn't random," I replied.

"It's just something that's been on my mind. What are your thoughts? I really am curious to know."

"Um, Mom wasn't perfect," I said.

"I think I would've done some things differently," Belle said, looking contemplative.

"You mean like not treating your daughter like the Messiah of models, at the expense of your other kids?"

"Hey, that's kinda mean," she said.

"Hey, that's kinda the truth," I replied, mocking my sister's voice.

When resort staff came to us for drink orders, I ordered myself a piña colada, heavy on the rum, while my sister opted for iced water with a slice of lemon.

"That's gotta be the most boring thing to drink on vacation," I said to her.

"I'm not a fan of alcohol after a massage," Belle said.

"Speaking of, could you have been any louder with your moans in there? I was trying to relax for Christ's sake."

"Doug's hands felt that good, what can I say," she said.

"Oh so he's Doug now, not Douglas. That what your boy-toy told you to call him?"

"He likes it. Doesn't mind it at all."

"Feel free to mark 'seducing your masseur' on your vacay bingo card. I didn't know you had knots between your legs that needed kneading."

"Relax, will ya? Nothing crazy happened."

"You're married, Sis. You remember Artie, don't you? He's your husband."

"You know what, Johnny, when you get married someday, maybe you'll understand."

Though Belle's tone sounded friendly, I took it as condescension. Why'd I need to be married to know basic relationship rules? So stupid. File this shit under older siblings that felt they always knew best...

She continued, "It's okay to have some flirty fun sometimes. Artie's fine with it. He encourages it even, as do I with him. It's healthy for our marriage, helps keep things spicy."

"Whatever," I said, not caring enough to care.

Belle pulled out a plastic bottle from her bag. "Can you do me a favor, rub some sunscreen on me, yeah?"

"Do it yourself."

"I can't reach my back," she said.

"Ask Doug to oil you up."

"Would if I could." She smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Come on, don't be a dick. You know our skin's sensitive. You want me to get cancer?"

"Fear tactics. Nice one, Sis." I roughly took the bottle from her hand. "Turn over, let's get this over with."

Belle flipped over to lie on her stomach and I squirted a dollop onto her bare back, began rubbing it over her.

"Get my thighs too," she said.

"What the hell is this, another massage?"

"Don't be difficult, Johnny. Just get it on me. Even distribution, please."

"I swear, if you start moaning, I'm done. I'm not your Douggy boy."

"No, you're certainly not." She chuckled.

I applied sunscreen to the back of her thighs, covering the area with an oily sheen.

"And my butt too," she said.

"Hard pass."

"You can't just leave one part unprotected. Can you finish the job, please? I'm asking nicely."

I groaned, then half-heartedly applied sunscreen across her cheeks, rubbing subtly to cover the curves of her rear not occupied by her bikini thong.

Belle then squished her thong line narrower to make sure I covered every inch of skin. "Does it feel toned? I've been doing a lot of squats lately at the gym."

"Cool story," I replied with the enthusiasm of a comatose patient.

She then flexed her glutes, and I felt her muscles tensing beneath. Jesus, this woman had no shame.

"Squeeze it," she said, an innocent tone, like she was showing me a new toy for us to play with, fresh from the toy store. "I'm really proud of my gym progress."

"Great, want a trophy?"

A devilish idea then sprung to mind, a sure-fire way to annoy Belle...

I cocked my stiffened hand back, then swung it like a sledgehammer to roughly smack her ass!

Belle should've squealed in pain, but she didn't react at all. Felt like

my

hand had taken the brunt of the sting.

"See? Told you," she said, unperturbed by the roughness of my slap. "Squat life."

Then Belle unexpectedly turned around, lying now on her back. "Now get my front, please," she said.

I looked at her incredulously. She looked so expectant, waiting for me to do it.

"You have hands last time I checked. Do your own front," I said.

"I brought a novel to read," she countered. "I don't want to get grease on the pages."

Then she put her sunglasses on, grabbed her stupid novel and cracked it open, as if my acquiescence to her request was already a given.

"Hurry, please," she said, "the sun's hitting harsh."

What an entitled brat

. I dropped another dollop on her stomach, then began spreading it around. First on her flat tummy, then over the fronts of her thighs, her shins.

"Top of my chest too," she said. "Get under my bikini straps."

"Absolutely not, Belle."

"You don't have to touch my boobs, silly. Just around them."

"We're out in public, idiot."

"They'll think you're my husband, it's fine."

"Even worse when they find out I'm your brother!"

"Jesus Johnny, would you stop being a pussy and do it already?!"

Her word choice triggered me, forcing my macho instincts to flare up. Few things in the world angered me more than when Belle challenged my manhood.

I squirted an excessive amount onto my sister's torso, then began rubbing below her neck, doing it roughly to show her I wasn't her lap dog. I contemplated choking her as a prank, but God forbid, if some witness with a savior complex decided he wanted to play hero on vacation.

"Happy?" I said derisively. "Let me guess, now you want me to get your actual tits," I added, sarcastic as can be.

Belle then loosened the knots of her bikini, located at her sides. "You might as well. They're just flabs of fat, you know."

Was she seriously asking me to touch her tits? I couldn't read her eyes, not through the thick black sunglasses she had on. What was Belle's motive here? No normal sister asked her brother to do something like this.

"I don't have leprosy," she added, "you won't get warts on your precious widdle hands."

Fucking Belle

. She was daring me again, pushing my buttons. Okay fine, I'd show her then! Had a little prank up my sleeve for this demanding diva...

My greasy hands started at her ribs, crept upward until they slipped under her bikini cups. I palmed each of my sister's breasts, the two supple mounds that drove every one of my guy friends crazy. Overrated, I'd say. Maybe they'd rate better if you threw a paper bag over her head.

With my hands on Belle's breasts, I maneuvered my thumbs and pointer fingers. Sprouted a diabolical grin, then pinched her nipples sharply.

"You ass!" she shouted, flinching and squealing in place. "That hurt!"

"No pain, no gain! Your gym motto, right?" I laughed my ass off.

"You do know you still have your hands on my boobs..."

"What? No I don't!" I replied, as if broken from a trance, quickly returning my hands to my sides.

She raised her sunglasses and hung them on her hairline, eyes angled below my waist. "And you have a chubby. Someone's excitable..."

I looked down, and shit, there it was, my cock acting a fool again. Another unwanted erection!

"It's just the stupid heat, Belle. It's hot out!" I said defensively, using my hands to hide my arousal.

"Seriously, Johnny, when

was

the last time you got laid? It couldn't have been my wedding. That was so long ago..."

I ignored her suspicions. As she tied her bikini strings back up, I scanned around the pool area like a military drone, wondering if anyone had seen what I'd just been doing to my sister.

I spotted a figure in the distance—Doug.

My sister's masseur sat shirtless on his own lounger, on the other side of the pool from us. He wore a smug grin, aimed squarely in our direction.

I turned back to Belle, only to find a matching expression on her face, aimed right back at Doug.

I immediately recognized what was happening here. These fuckers were playing some kind of erotic, mental chess game. And I realized I was the sad pawn, used by my sister to rile up her handsy boy-toy. How fucking obvious of her...

***

It didn't take long for Doug to approach us. With Belle and I still relaxing on our loungers, he traipsed along the edge of the pool, looking like a hungry hawk, diving in for the kill.

As for my sister, she looked giddy like Christmas morning, awaiting a present to be delivered onto her lap.

"Hey you," he said to her.

"Hey yourself," Belle said back, flirtatiously.

The guy had his hands on his waist, shamelessly peacocking his abs for my sister's attention.

"Doug," he said, reintroducing himself.

"How could I forget," Belle said, smiling.

"My colleague, Tom, just got off the clock. I texted him to swing by the pool area. I've got a fun game we can all play in the pool... A chicken fight," Doug said, ogling her oiled-up body.

"Sounds fun. Can Johnny play too?" Belle asked on my behalf, like I was her weirdo friend on the playground that she felt obligated to include.

"That's the plan," Doug said, not bothering to look my way during their entire exchange.

***

I was standing in the pool next to Tom, near the shallow end. Belle was with Doug, of course, treading water near the deep end, chatting and flirting amongst themselves (or maybe strategizing for this very unnecessary pool game).

"So," Tom said to me, "Probably makes sense if you're the one on my shoulders."

"Hey man, is staff even allowed to play pool games with guests?" I asked.

"No. But then again, Doug's not really a rules guy," Tom said. "Some honest advice from me to you: If you guys plan on getting another couple's massage, don't ask for Doug. Avoid at all costs."