“You need boots,” she added looking down at my worn sneakers. “Definitely boots,” she reiterated with a nod. She turned her attention to the clerk.
“Can you finish the alterations by Friday?” she asked. The clerk, a mousey looking young woman, nodded.
“If you’ll step this way, we’ll complete the transaction and I’ll have Carlos begin working on it today,” she assured my sister. Summer already had her credit card in her hand.
A few minutes later, an older man of obvious Latino blood was measuring me upside down and inside out. I took it all in stride until he fell to his knees and his hand strayed to my groin.
“Hey! Hey, hombre! Watch where you’re putting your fucking hands,” I snarled loudly.
“But, Senor…” he began to argue in earnest.
Summer instantly appeared from behind the curtain. She cast me a deep frown of disapproval while Carlos explained his intentions. Without warning, her hand snaked out and she clutched my entire package firmly in the palm of her hand. I gasped at the sensation of her tight grip on my balls.
If that wasn’t enough to shock me to silence, she hissed in my face with a low growl, “Sonny, I just paid forty-five hundred dollars for this fucking suit. The fit is going to be perfect one way or another, with or without your cooperation. Do I make myself clear?”
She paused for a moment before giving me another small squeeze of warning. I nodded weakly and averted my gaze.
“Go ahead, Carlos. Finish what you were doing,” she ordered in a calmer tone.
Carlos made quick work of taking my final measurements and scribbling them onto a small notepad he held. I stood motionless as he worked around my sister’s hand to obtain his figures. The initial shock of Summer’s grip on my cock and scrotum faded and my eyes rolled upwards, focusing on the ceiling as I tried to control my response.
If Summer noticed, she said nothing, which made the situation that much more unbearable for me. At the very least, she could have paid me some small compliment. How can any woman hold a man’s junk in the palm of her hand and not say something, anything at all?
Maybe she felt she had expended her quota of compliments for the day when she told me I looked like a rock-star. Maybe she thought I didn’t feel as much like a rock-star as I looked.
I found myself trailing her once again as she made a hasty exit from the store a few moments later. Her continued irritation was apparent in the way she slammed the door open and never looked back to see if I was following her. Of course, my arms were loaded with packages so it impeded my attempt to keep up with her pace.
Annoying Summer wasn’t one of my more pleasurable hobbies, but it happened frequently, and with little to no effort on my part. I made a more concerted attempt to avoid stepping on her very last nerve for the remainder of our shopping excursion, mainly because I still had ideas about doing some rough sketches of her later in the evening.
Summer and I seldom, if ever, openly discussed sex. Our parents didn’t encourage sex education at home. We were both left to learning about it from the usual sources, friends, books and movies mostly. My friends made the usual overtures to my sister in high school, but by the time we attended college, we ran with different crowds and avoided one another in the social scene. Summer dated a variety of college boys, but I never gave much thought as to how active, or not, she was sexually speaking.