A knock at the door just as the show was ending. Damn it! I hate when that happens. I tried to ignore the knock, but the guy just hit harder the second and third time around. “Shit!” I said and got up to answer.

I opened the door and there stood a rather handsome, sandy-haired guy about twenty-five or so. He was wearing a nice dark-colored jacket and tie. Maybe some insurance salesman, at a guess.

“We don’t want any.” I said to him.

“I came to pick up Phoebe.” he said in return. “I’m Alan.”

“Huh?” Something about a guy named Alan. “Uh, no, she’s not home yet, but come on in. She ought to be here soon.” That didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t think exactly why. I got the guy inside and sitting on the couch, and I sat down beside him, started watching the television again.

About ten minutes later, Alan began to get fidgety. He had tried to talk to me, but I had answered in monosyllables (Yes, I was Phoebe’s brother, my name was Kent, I was 18, nearly 19, I went to college, I was on break just now, my parents were visiting relatives so I was alone in the house with just my sister right now, yes, yeah, yah, uh-huh, uh-huh, umph!) and he’d given up.

“Kent?”

“Mph?”

“Do you know if Phoebe had to work late?” he asked me.

That triggered a bit of a memory, fuzzy and incomplete, but there. “Yeah, she did. She said to, uh...the Bucket at seven thirty.” I used the slang name for the restaurant, a real snooty place only about four blocks from the house. Phoebe used it because it was a classy place and if the date turned bad, she could just beg pardon to go powder her nose, and walk home. That’s why I knew Alan was a first-date for her.

“She wants me to meet her at La Buccetta at seven thirty?” he said. Looked at his watch. “It’s only six-fifteen now. What I am supposed to do for another hour, just sit and wait for her?”

“You can hang here, man, it’s cool.” I said.

He settled back. “Thanks. Damn! This makes the third time she’s done this to me!”

“This is your third date?” That wasn’t the Bucket, third date was usually a movie and dinner plus maybe a hand-job in the back seat after for the guy if she liked him. My sister’s sex life was pretty carefully planned like the rest of her so-perfect life.

“No, she canceled the other two, but she said this one was for sure.”

“Well, she is going to be there at seven-thirty.” I said. “Sis usually means what she says, anyhow.”

“Yeah.” Alan sighed, looked over at me, and dropped a real bombshell. “She told me you were gay.”

I got mad. Hell, I had told my Mom and she insisted on sharing it with Dad and my blabber-mouthed sister! And this was the thanks I got! I knew I should have stayed hidden, I knew it! I babbled something like this out loud.

“Hey, hey, it’s cool.” Alan said with a hand on my wrist as I went by. “I just mentioned it so you’d relax with me. I mean, if we got to sit here another hour.”

“Yeah.” I sat down but I was still steaming. “Man, I’d like to really get her back! I mean, just really something that would make her jaw drop down. I wish I knew a secret of hers, something I could tell everyone like she told everyone about me.”

“Well, Kent, I promise, if she tells me anything like that, I’ll let you know, okay?” Alan said and his hand went back on mine again.

I can’t call what I felt then as real lust. There was a strong element of revenge in it, and some opportunism, too. “You want to help me get her back?” I said, staring at him intently.

“Uh...yeah.” Alan wasn’t so sure with me glaring at him, eyes afire with vengeance. “Sure.” he said further.

I moved my hand, the one with his hanging onto it, down into his lap and cupped his crotch. “I know just how you can do it.” I said.

“How?” His eyes weren’t looking at me, they were looking at my hand, now alone (he had snatched his own away when I contacted his basket of goodies), a white form on the dark gray slacks.

“You date her, first two dates, you won’t get anything but a kiss good-night. But on the third date, you put the moves on her and she’ll offer to give you a handjob. She always does with her dates that last that long. And when she does, you just tell her, ‘Well, your brother Kent sucked it on our first date.’” I snickered. “That ought to make the set go right out of her hairdo!” I visualized my sister like a cartoon character being surprised, eyes wide, mouth agape, hair pointing straight out in all directions.

“You want to...you want to suck my cock?” Alan asked me.

“Well...yeah.” That was part of the plan I had just made. Was he going to say no to me? If he did, I couldn’t pull that trick on Phoebe.

I was just about to try to argue with him, or coax him, or beg him or convince him, somehow or other, and Alan just sort of groaned and I felt his cock firm up under my hand. It wasn’t a hard-on yet, but it was getting there.

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