“So, speaking of sappy-sounding…junk, when’s this choir practice, and such?”
“…uh, yeah. Choir’s at eleven, and for running we’re going to be doing a 15K at 12:30, with warm-ups starting at noon. “
“Apple and peanut butter?”
“…yeah, that’s an easy snack. Oh, and a couple Gatorades® of course.”
“What, you drink Gatorade®? I Never Knew That…”
L.L. poked me in the ribs. I went for behind her knees; I figured, I was close enough to the ground anyway, ha-ha. Since she was also ticklish there, it was a “ha-ha” indeed. We called a truce again, before L.L. gave me one last hug, and reminded me, “Well, I guess you better go and start making yourself all beautiful, seeing as you’re not going to get all sweaty in a couple of hours. And…thank you, sis, for saying that you’re proud of me—“
“Uhn-uh,” I denied, holding my hand up, stop guard-fashion. “I’m not just ‘saying’ that I’m proud of you, I am proud of you. You’re smart, and you’re talented, and you’re beautiful. Not to mention,” I pretend-buffed my French-manicured nails, “your fantastic taste in older sisters!”
We hugged again, and my oh-so-tactful sister wrinkled her nose, pulled off my night shirt and told me, “You should wash until I don’t have that weird taste in my mouth!” I turned around and gave her my “Miss Thang” look.
“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” L.L. declared. I continued “the Look.” “I’ll get your underwear while you shower, just get that look off…” I gave her my cheesiest grin and thanked her.
L.L. just shook her head and reached for the knob. “Sometimes you change moods so fast, I wonder how you don’t get whiplash, JoJo.”
After she left, I went back to the full-length mirror at the door to check out “the new Me”, especially my “nethers.” «I guess that’s something else I get from Mom; light down. Being a girl should help that, too. Hopefully I don’t have to shave my legs too much, either. Mom always said that she had a flat stomach until I came along, and it looks like I got that too. Look at me, I’m petite! Big breasts for my size, thank God they’re not as big as Mom’s; I know she had big ones before me…and the rest of the kids. » I cupped my breasts, imagining how they’d look with a little support. I tried to smile alluringly, but holding up my breasts kind of took away from the hotness factor, making it look a little silly.
“Quit staring at yourself in the mirror, JoJo, we’ve only got three hours to get ready!” L.L. yelled from across the room. I jumped; «how did she know I was staring in the mirror? Maybe, » I ruefully thought, «because I’ve been checking myself out all morning. But I’m so cute, they could model dolls on me! And I’d buy one! » Just then, L.L. shoved the door open really fast. I think she was trying to hit me with it; fortunately, I was a good two feet away. I took the pile of clothes «Dang, that’s a lot more than just a pair of briefs…» with my watch on top, said “Thanks!” again and set it all down by the sink. Then I went over to the tub, turned on the water to mix, and pulled the shower knob; I wanted to have plenty of time to figure out the whole “dressing like a girl” thing.
Not sure if my hair was naturally curly or if this was a perm—and betting on “perm”— I put on a shower cap and hopped in. In the shower, I saw the cleverest thing; three shower carriers, of three different colors, green, white and blue, hanging off of the curtain rod, one beneath the other. They even had initials, —“L”, “J” and “W” respectively— to make the correspondence clear. «I wonder who decided to give me the white holder– ooh, with gold in the center, that’s Mom’s touch…or maybe “mine”. I can’t fault the logic of it, but it just seems to emphasize the oddball genetic mix we have. Oh, look, everything’s coordinated!» I pulled out a moisturizing face scrub and a loofa. I grinned. «It sounds funny, but at least in the shower, I think…I enjoy being a girl.» Closing my eyes and getting to work, I started humming that very song.
When I got to my groin, I almost didn’t notice. I was just working my way over my body, just like normal, actually. I think I paid more attention to under my breasts, I got introduced to a dirty little well-kept secret: that underneath a woman’s breasts is grungier that both belly button and armpit combined. Talk about your fantasy let-downs; having a female body to play with as your own is way up there on the list. I remember girls complaining about how bras made under their breasts feel sweatier, but never connected “sweatier” with “grosser than your armpits” before now.
Anyway, after that delightful new knowledge, I continued in the routine - stomach, hips, down one thigh, behind the knee (apparently not sexy when being scrubbed by a loofa), up the back of the leg, over to the other leg– wait-a-minute, there’s supposed to be extra stuff to wash here. For that matter, I usually used my pubic hair like a built-in soap foamer; now, I had a loofa, and frankly, I needed it, because JoJo had just enough hair to show that puberty had made it. I remember that I used to think that very phrase when describing my chest; «not any more», I snorted. «That’ll be convenient, if I stick around to swimsuit weather; of course, maybe I got a bikini wax sometime, and it hasn’t grown back yet, and WHAT AM I THINKING?!? Just keep washing! I can do an “in-depth survey” after I get back from chauffeuring L.L. around.»
Yeah, I know, not so sexy, what can I say; I fixate sometimes, and right now, I was fixating on getting L.L. to her practice sessions. It was a good thing I had, too, because just as I was rinsing off, B-4 busted back in, peed in the toilet and then flushed it, cackling as he ran back out, like the chicken he is! Fortunately, I was done, like I said, so I pushed the button to send the water out the spigot and turned it off. I called out, “Dork!” after him, just to let him know who’s boss; «Hmm, maybe there are some down sides to this whole “brother and sister” business.»
Anyway, I soon thereafter found something that had me change my mind; scented hydrating lotion. Individually scented hydrating lotion, with a hand-mixed formula. B-4’s was a kind of herbal, musky mix; I liked it, and tried to “memorize” it to see if I could find it when I woke up. L.L.’s was surprisingly (to me) heavily floral. it smelled like a good match for L.L., strong but not overwhelmingly so and very, VERY girly. It would make sure folks knew that super-Amazon was a girl. I approved. I was disillusioned when I got to my scent. I figured it would be okay, like the others; my scent, though, was AWE-Some!
I loved my scent, and I immediately started slathering it on. It had hints of lemon, cinnamon, vanilla and something piney, like cedar; spicy and woodsy. I’d never heard of a woodsy scent for a woman before; not that I’d looked for it, but it felt uncommon. I noticed scents of things before, but never really went out and classified them somewhere. This lotion, I loved; it smelled bright and interesting, and made me feel bright and interesting. Moreover, naturally, it kept my skin so nice and soft…
«I’m feeling kind of torn here. On one hand, I feel like I’m acting very girly here, and yet, aren’t I supposed to be? I mean, I’m a girl, right, aren’t I supposed to be girly?» I put the lotion back in my rack, wiping the last of the lotion on my back and legs, before I, grabbed a towel from the towel rack, did the little buff-motion on my back to warm up a little, and wrapped it around my shoulders, while I dried my armpits and underneath my breasts with the ends.
Then I looked towards the sink counter top, at the pile of pretty underthings that L.L. had picked out for me, and the watch on top. It was especially nice since it wasn’t just a normal watch band, but a beautiful bracelet, either silver or white gold, with a gold filigree and occasional chips of topaz. I could see why I must have a lot of white blouses; I’d kill myself before wearing something that made me take off that bracelet. Under it was a folded-up bra with lace trim, some lace-trimmed boy shorts-style panties «A-ha! Those are my favorite style, not a girl’s.», a pair of tan «…Great Googly-Moogly, it’s pantyhose!» and what looked kind of like a smaller sleeveless nightgown or dress «Wait, I’ve seen that before, that’s a camisole…ah, those “shorts” I saw must be a skirt, then» .
Feeling like doing things all out of order, I put on the panties first. I was pleasantly surprised to see that even though I didn’t have that huge (relative) frame of L.L.’s, I could still sport some boy shorts well enough. The quality of the fabric was good, too; a nice thick cotton, so they wouldn’t fall apart on me too fast. They were a nice compromise, now that I thought about it; lace trim, so girly, but plain white, so not too girly. Of course, once I had them on, I didn’t mind them looking too girly; it was turning me on, in fact. Did I mention that I really like butts?
Anyway…a minute or so later, I got around to trying the bra on, which was also, like the panties, cottony and lace-trimmed. I started trying to hook it straight on, holding it over my stomach, before I remembered that I’ve seen Mom put on her bra before, by just spinning it around, hooking it on and spinning it back. The straps were straight, not criss-cross «Yay, C-cups!» so the only issue was the whole shrug-the-shoulders-and-set-the-straps maneuver at the end. Check the results…nice! I was minorly annoyed that I was more impressed with how cute the lace on the bra was than how cute the breasts in the bra were, but I’ve never been that impressed with breasts. «Not that I don’t like them, but maybe I’m spoiled by having a mom…and sister…so well-endowed; or maybe it’s because I think more about breasts functionally than ornamentally. Playtex makes bottles as well as bras, they have the whole market, er, “covered”. Yeah, yeah, bad pun, I’m full of ‘em.» Then I went for the hose…hose was right; they were stockings, not pantyhose. Being already rolled up, they went on easily. Strangely, to me, anyway, is that while they didn’t seem to add much to my legs, that small gap between where the stretchy band holding them up, and where the boy shorts started…was also a turn-on. I took the first two fingers on each hand, and ran them along the bands of flesh of both legs, from inside to out…ahem.
The camisole was simplicity itself; it and the stockings weren’t cotton, but they were smooth, and made my outline smooth as well. Feeling thoroughly naughty, I put my right hand on my hip, looked over my shoulder, and pulled up on my cami with the left…«Damn! Do that every day, and I’ll never need blush again…oh, no, makeup!» I grabbed the door handle in a panic, stopped myself with a hand on the jamb, slid open the nook under the mirror, found the deodorant (unscented) with my name on it, gave myself a couple of good swipes, and only then, did I go back to my room.