My sisters and I were always close growing up. I was the middle child and only boy; my sister Marie was two years older, and my younger sister Annie was born a mere 11 months after me. Despite moving away and going to colleges in separate areas of the country, we became even closer as young adults. The summer between my junior and senior years in college provided the greatest bonding experience for me and my siblings.
Marie had graduated from a university in Virginia and relocated to Boston for her first “real” job. Annie had transferred to Boston University, and I had landed an internship with a firm based in Woburn, just outside of Boston. My sisters found a great apartment in the Back Bay with an extra bedroom that I could occupy for the summer while they searched for a third roommate.
We did everything together — working out, concerts, dinners, nightlife, and plenty of partying. Interestingly, a group of probably 10 or so people we had grown up with had migrated to Boston for school or work, so we always had familiar faces and shared friends in and out of the apartment. My sisters and I were the ringleaders of this fun-loving group, and we happily enjoyed the time and experiences we shared.
One particular night from that summer remains forever etched in my memory — a night that I relive in my mind to this day almost three decades later. The evening started out innocently enough with dinner at the apartment and a bottle of wine shared with my two sisters. We were meeting up with four or five other friends at a bar in Brighton to see some guys we knew that played in an Aerosmith cover band. It was a warm, humid July night, and everyone was dressed more for the beach than a night on the town due to the heat and humidity.
I remember Marie (who typically dressed to the nines) in a tight t-shirt dress that perfectly hugged her petite 5′ 2″ body, nicely accentuating her firm breasts and ass. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing flat sandals instead of her typical four-inch heels. The absence of a panty line and her protruding nipples had me wondering if anything else was on underneath that dress. Annie was very casual too, in short-shorts and a cut-off polo shirt with just enough of her rock-hard abs and toned waistline exposed to turn that somewhat boyish outfit into something pretty damn sexy.
The night was a blast, filled with drinks, live music, dancing and laughter. At that time, Boston bars closed at midnight, which usually left us searching for late-night eats or another place to keep the party rolling. As was typically the case, the party found its way back to our apartment. Thankfully, we had stocked the fridge with beer before heading out.
Probably a dozen people filled our small living room, and a joint or two circled the space. Marie, who had been dancing most of the night, commandeered the stereo, insisting that the others dance with her. More than once I caught myself watching her athletic little body swaying, still trying to determine if she was wearing anything under that short dress.