Chapter 6
By the time Joan got home from school, Sam was back on the couch, reading as though nothing had happened. Joan called "Yo!" to him as she went clattering up the stairs to her room to drop her book-bag. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and brought them back down to him.

"Here," Joan said, handing him the papers, and settling down into the chair. He was looking a lot better, she thought. "This is the work you missed; Gina gave it to me."

"Thanks a lot," Sam said, flipping through it. "Not too bad. Hopefully I can finish most of it tonight. I appreciate it, sis."

"No problem, squirt," Joan said, grinning at him. When she'd heard about his collapse she'd been really frightened for him. Though she would never have admitted it before, she had always been fond of her younger brother. They had quarreled fairly often, as any two kids so close in age would do; but there had always been a friendliness there, as well. Now she was just happy to see him so well. She watched him as he looked over the homework with the intent expression he often used. He was really rather handsome, she thought idly. It had never really struck her before. Sam looked up and caught her looking at him; Joan blushed a bit, unaccountably, but Sam gave her a smile that made her smile as well. Really, quite handsome. Sexy, even.

"So, did you have a good day?" Joan asked him.

"It was all right."

"Mrs. Severson look in on you?"

"Yeah. She made me lunch, and we talked a while. She's nice," he added.

"I thought she kind of annoyed you, sometimes," Joan said curiously.

"Well, sometimes. But not today." He looked back down at his papers, and Joan got up.

"I've got to take a shower," she said. "I'm going out tonight."

"Who with?" Sam asked without looking up.

"Just some friends. It's not a date, or anything." Why had she said that? It didn't matter to him. With an inward shrug she went upstairs to the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she looked at herself critically in the mirror. For a long time she had despaired of ever developing a figure, but in the last couple of years her breasts and hips had really sprouted. She wasn't voluptuous -- not as much as her mother, who really had a body to die for -- but nicely curved. She could often feel boys' eyes clinging to her trim figure as she walked by, or having to force themselves to keep looking at her face rather than her chest as she talked to them. Sometimes this annoyed her, and sometimes it amused her, but she would rather have it than not.

Joan brushed back her neck-length, red-brown hair and examined her face. Green eyes, like her mother; her face still had some of the roundness of childhood, but a hint of cheekbones was now present. Maybe in a few years she would be as pretty as Mom, she thought. She hoped so.

She stepped into the shower and adjusted the temperature to her liking, then soaped herself up. For some reason the touch of her own skin seemed more sensual than usual. Running her hands over her body, she turned under the spray. I wonder if Sam thinks I'm pretty, she thought. Of course, I don't know what his tastes are; he's never had a girlfriend...

Almost reluctantly she turned off the water and dried herself. Normally she would have put on her bathrobe before going to her room, but it seemed silly to bother with it when there was just Sam in the house. The air felt deliciously cool on her skin as she went to her room. Sam was evidently still down in the living room. Without bothering to close her door, Joan went in and got fresh underwear out of her drawer. She rummaged through the closet; what should she wear tonight? There were two or three possible outfits, but she wasn't sure. With a sigh of vexation she took several hangers of clothes out of the closet and walked downstairs.

Sam looked up with a slightly startled expression as she came into the room. Joan realized that she was still wearing only panties and a bra. But then Sam smiled, and she dismissed it as unimportant. He was just her brother, after all.

"I need your advice," Joan told him. "I'm having trouble picking out what to wear tonight." She held different articles of clothing up to her body as she spoke. "I could wear this top with this skirt...or I could wear this top with these pants, and my jean jacket...or I could wear this dress. What do you think?"

Sam watched, seeming a little bemused. "Well...I think you'd look great in any of them."

Joan felt warm at this compliment. So he did think she was pretty. "You're sweet," she said, "but which one looks best?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I'd have to see them on you."

"OK," Joan agreed. She hung the hangers on the mantel piece and put on the first top and skirt. Feeling Sam's appreciative eyes on her, she twirled in front of him. Quickly she stripped them off again and changed into the second top and pants. The pants were tight jeans, and she knew how they hugged her hips and ass. She wriggled a little as she turned to display this outfit. Third was the dress. It was longer than the skirt, but the neckline was daringly low.

"So," she said, "which do you think?"

"Well, they're all great," he said. "As a guy I guess I'd go for the dress. But since it isn't a date...maybe the jeans?"

"Yeah," Joan agreed. "Maybe. But...as a guy, wouldn't you like them, too?"

"Sure," Sam said quickly. "They make you look really hot. With the dress it was the neckline."

"If I left the top two buttons undone," Joan mused, "I could still show plenty of cleavage."

"If that's what you want," Sam said, and Joan started.

"Yeah...of course." She took off the dress again and put it back on the hanger. "I'd better get dressed before Mom gets home. Thanks, little brother."

She went over to give him a quick kiss of thanks. She intended it for his cheek, but somehow it landed on his lips, and lasted a little longer than she had meant. Joan was acutely aware of her tits pressed against his chest. It felt really, really nice.

She pulled back and picked up the clothes, then went back upstairs, feeling oddly flustered. I wonder if models feel like this, she thought absently. Feeling the eyes on them. She felt a warm tingle which was strangely pleasant. After a moment, she hung the clothes in the closet and closed her door. Removing her bra and panties she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. One hand moved to her breasts, the other between her legs, and began stroking. She should have time to finish before Mom came home, and until she did she wouldn't be able to concentrate on a thing.
