"Alright, Richie," my sister, Tommie, began, looking at the Ipad she was using as we started the annual inventory of our mother's lingerie shop. "Black lace garter belts, sizes small to extra large. How many you got, bro?"
I quickly counted and told her there were fifteen, and Tommie replied that was exactly what she had. Feeling playful that morning, I asked if she had ever worn one.
"I tried one on once. Gina helped me get the stockings fastened to the garters, Gave me a whole new appreciation for pantyhose. But they do sell. Guys get real hot and bothered, seeing women wearing them. So how many white ones?"
As I was one of those guys she referred to, my opinion concerning gartered stockings verses pantyhose, was the opposite of my sister's. The porn I most enjoyed viewing online always involved women wearing such sexy under things. I thought, while counting the white, then red garter belts, of how sexy my lovely sister must have looked that day. I was picturing her in a black one.
We moved on to the brassieres, of which there were many in the shop, in a mind boggling variety of sizes and colors. I found most of them boring to handle, until we reached some very sexy, half cup bras. I found one in black lace that I thought nicely matched the garter belt I was still thinking of my sister wearing...
The above describes just how the last weekend of our spring break began, fifteen years ago. Tommie was going to be a senior at the state university a hundred or so miles away, and I would start my first year at the local community college. I was nineteen at the time, and my sister was four years older.
Our mother had built a very large and successful business over the years, managing at the same time to be an excellent single parent. From the time we could be useful, Tommie and I had helped out at the shop, doing one thing or another, although I never served the customers. I enjoyed my tasks of cleaning up the shop and straightening and restocking the various lingerie displays, after the shop had closed or before it opened.
Tommie had quickly became one of the best saleswomen our mother ever had. She was especially adept with the male customers, which I suspected was because she was so attractive and such a flirt.
The reason that it was just Tommie and I at the shop that Saturday, and had been for the last week, was that mom had been called away to the next state over to care for our grandmother, who was recovering from surgery. That wouldn't have been a problem, but Judith, mom's long time employee, had her own temporary family issue to tend to. As if that wasn't enough, her other employee, Gina, had started a long planned vacation the day that our mom got on the plane. But Tommie and I enjoyed working together, and assured our mother we could handle things, including the annual inventory we were doing that memorable Saturday, which is where I'll resume this recollection.
After finally finishing with the brassieres, we moved through the shop steadily, but there was a huge number of items to count, both on the sales floor and in the back room. It wasn't our first inventory, but we had never done one without mom there.
"There's something I'm familiar with," Tommie told me as I sorted and counted at a rack displaying bustiers, each on it's own little hanger. "I've got a white one that I wore under my senior prom dress."
I remembered how sexy my beautiful, blond sister had looked the night of her senior prom, learning then and there in the shop that morning, just why her cleavage had looked so impressive.
"Don't know when I'll ever wear it again, bro, but you know mom. She wouldn't let me just borrow it from the shop."
I lifted one off the rack, looked at the size and asked if hers was a 42DD.
"Several bra sizes and one cup size smaller, bro," Tommie replied, then shared a laugh with me. "As if you needed that information. Okay, shape wear next, and there's a lot of it."
My sister was right about that. Some of the displays were a mess, so I had to straighten them out as I counted. There were a few old fashioned girdles with garters, which I liked handling, but those were nothing that my sister would have any need of.
"Oh, boy," Tommie said, after leading us to a display of lingerie I found much more erotically fascinating. "The really naughty things."
The crotches of the panties and the cups of the bras were open and trimmed in lace. Rather than cover a woman's breasts and genitals, those over the top lingerie sets left bare and called attention to those parts of the female body. I couldn't resist jokingly asking Tommie if she ever wore such things.
"I'd never admit it if I did, Richie. But I might, for the right guy. Who knows?"
I conjured up the picture I'd earlier formed in my mind of Tommie wearing stockings and a black lace garter belt and bra, and imagined her wearing one of those open crotch panties as well. It would be a nice contrast to her pubic hair, what I naturally figured would be blond. It was an exciting thought, but at the same time, I recall thinking, it was also a forbidden one. For certain, that day in the shop was the first time my sister had ever played a part in my sexual fantasies.
"Hey, Richie," Tommie said, interrupting my erotic thoughts. "You're fading away. I asked, how many pink bras?"
Realizing that I'd stopped counting, I , apologized and quickly went back to work. Tommie told me it was no big deal, as it was a tedious job, and she suggested we take a short break.
I made us coffee and we sat at the sales counter on the two stools at the customer side of it, and talked about our years at the shop. Tommie pointed out a few framed pictures against wall behind the counter, of us as children when we sometimes spent entire days at the shop, mom wanting to save the cost of baby sitters. The one that was the cutest, Tommie thought, was her as a five year old, in the crib with me, holding a bottle to my lips. I had to agree with her. It was pleasant conversation, but too soon we had to go back to work.
After moving from a few miscellaneous displays, we got to the pantyhose and stockings. the former, as earlier mentioned, I had no erotic interest in, but the latter, being the necessary companion to garter belts, did get my attention. Even as I tried to keep my mind on counting, I enjoyed a another little fantasy: Making out with one of the young women I'd had sex with, sliding my hand beneath her skirt and finding naked thigh above a stocking top. At least that day dream did not involve my sister. When finished with hosiery, we moved on to something else I had a very personal, erotic interest in: Panties.
"Next up," Tommie began, after we had been counting those underthings for about twenty minutes. She stopped then, and looked at me with a slight grin, as if considering something. "Let's see. How about we do the Vanity Fair panties, the briefs with lace trim."
That gave me a start, as back at home in my bedroom dresser were three panties, two in black, one in dark purple , of that particular brand and style. Hoping my sister didn't notice that my hands were shaking, I quickly counted and gave her the number.
"Gee, Richie, we seem to be short a few," she told me, looking at the Ipad, and then at me. "That's unusual, mom's a stickler for ringing things up correctly. Maybe due to shoplifting, but who knows?"
Tommie smiled and shrugged, then told me to count the bikini version of the same panties. However, handling those underthings did nothing to calm me, as I knew from the first and only time I'd tried on one my sister's panties, those were her personal favorites. I would have worn them myself, but the briefs contained my genitals better.
