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Sam and Del -11- Don't lock the bathroom door!
🕑 Added 2020-08-27 15:56:56 +0000 UTC
Hannah was grouchy when she got up and found me in the bathroom before her. I'd just gone in to pee but discovered that my braid had come loose a bit. Since I intended to leave it in place until Mom and I had shopped for some new haircare thingies, I had partially undone the braid to re-tie it.
The problem seemed to have been the new wider pink ribbon I had used. I hadn't properly threaded it through my braids when I tied it in a bow. I didn't usually with the narrow blue ribbon I used, and this unraveling had happened a few times before. It should only take two minutes to repair, and I had told Hannah so less than a minute before.
But she didn't want to wait. When she banged on the door, she almost caused me to undo more braid than I had intended to. "Open the door," she snarled.
"Give me a minute," I said.
"That's what you said a minute ago," she protested.
"No," I told her, "I said a couple of minutes."
"Mom!" she shouted, startling me again. "Sam is hogging the bathroom! I need to get ready for school, and he's not going today, so he should get out and let me in! He can play with his hair later!"
"Samantha and she, dear," Mom called back. "Samantha, are you being a princess and hogging the bathroom?"
"Uh." I repressed snickers. Being a princess is what I accuse Hannah of when she monopolizes the bathroom. "I'm almost done."
"I need to pee," Hannah whispered fiercely at the door while Mom admonished us to be more sisterly and work out a way to share the facilities.
"Open the door, Samantha," Mom ordered.
I reached over and flipped the lock to let Hannah in. She had on something I think is called baby doll pajamas. She rushed right to the bowl, sat down and started making tinkling noises. I glanced at her in the mirror, and she scowled at me.
"Don't lock the door in the mornings, SIS," she said. "Dad was in the other bathroom, and I couldn't go in there."
"But you could come in here?" I said.
She glared at me. "Yes, because you are Samantha."
"That's just—that's just pretend!" I protested.
"I wasn't pretending to need to pee! And you're in here fussing with your hair like a—a prima donna."
I winced.
She suddenly grinned at me. "Your hair looks nice like that, in a braid. I thought you were in here, brushing it out."
"No," I said. "We're going shopping for rollers and a hairdryer. For me." I refused to blush. "Then I'll come back and do my hair like the salon did it yesterday." I was just finishing up, re-tying my bow. I threaded it through all three strands of the braid, this time, so it wouldn't come loose.
"Really?" she said. "That looked great. And I like that bow. Can you braid my hair like that sometime?"
"Sure, I guess." She'd never asked before, though I had been braiding my own hair since before middle school.
Hannah used paper to wipe herself dry, then stood up and headed back to her room. "But get out of the bathroom quick. I need to use the mirrors. When I'm gone to school, you can stand here and primp all you want."
"Okay," I agreed. Sheesh.
I went to my room and discovered Mom in there laying clothes out on the bed. "I thought you could wear either the yellow sundress or the blue pedal pushers with the lavender top. What do you think?"
I thought maybe I would go hide in the closet.
*
Okay, I tried the pedal pushers, but they presented a problem. I didn't look properly girlish wearing them, because.... Well, because of lumps in places a girl shouldn't have any.
"Can you tuck it all backwards or up inside you or something?" Mom asked.
I cringed but pushed Mom out of the room so I could try what she suggested, pulling down the capris (Mom called them pedal pushers) and my panties(!) and trying to deal with the offending lumps. Bending the leader backwards behind my legs, then pulling the panties up tight while putting gentle pressure on the two assistants so they went up inside me sort of worked.
I pulled the pale blue calf-length pants back up, and it all looked smooth. It wasn't exactly comfortable, though. After a bit more adjustment, I decided it all might stay in place as long as I didn't do anything too strenuous. I needed something tight but a little stretchy to hold everything in place.
I snorted. What would work would be a pair of bike shorts to wear under my pedal pushers. I didn't have any (I mentioned that I'm not any sort of jock), but I thought Hannah might have a pair from when she was dating someone who was into long bike rides and competition. It hadn't lasted long, but typical of her enthusiasms, she'd acquired as much stuff as she could wheedle Dad into buying for her.
I let Mom back into the room, and she immediately put a hand over her mouth like she was trying not to laugh. I glared at her. "What?" I demanded.
"You're so cute!" she gushed.
I rolled my eyes and pushed past her to knock on the bathroom door. "Hannah?"
My sister opened the door and looked at me. "You are cute in that," she confirmed with a grin. I guess she had overheard Mom. She pointed at me with her toothbrush. "You're so skinny! Y'know, I wore those pants four years ago, Sis."
"Uh, huh," I grunted. "Do you still have those tight, spandex bike shorts?"
"Somewhere, I guess?" She stuck the toothbrush in her mouth and scrubbed her molars while thinking about it. "Look in the bottom drawer of my dresser, left side, under those winter jammies, maybe?" she offered.
I managed to make out the instructions amid the mumbling around her toothbrush. "Thanks," I said and headed to her room to look. I found them, but I'd forgotten they were hot-pink-and-black camouflage pattern—for if I ever needed to hide in Paris Hilton's lingerie drawer. I sighed, but no one was going to see them.
Off went the capri pants and I slinked into the tight bike shorts, concealing the evidence of any masculinity I had left. Hannah came in just as I was examining the snugness in her triple mirror. The shorts were high-waisted and almost knee-length, and the panties I still had on under them did not make visible lines through the fabric.
My sister nodded. "If you had any booty at all, you'd be hot in those."
"Hot?" I frowned at her.
"Sexy," she said, "but you've still got a boy-butt." She thought for a moment. "Some guys like that. You've got some shape back there, just not a lot."
I sneered at her opinion as I pulled the capri pants back on. "I'm not trying to attract the looks of any boys. I just don't want anyone to be able to tell I am one."
She grinned. "At least, with three layers in the crotch, you won't be showing any camel-toe."
"I—what?" What the heck was camel-toe?
