Helen Shoemaker, my five-month pregnant sister, claimed that I’ve never had an orgasm. She was twenty-eight and married to a twenty-five-year-old stud. Well, that was what she was telling me. I was thirty-three years old. Helen and I were the only girls with three brothers. I was the oldest sibling, and Helen was the middle one.

I believed I had a healthy sex life until my boyfriend broke up with me six months ago—he just packed his things and left without saying goodbye. I’ve had several boyfriends during my adult life, a few one-night stands, and two live-in relationships.

“Bev, if your legs ain’t shaking and your pussy hasn’t exploded, you haven’t come.”

My parents named me Beverly Ellen Hartman. Helen joked that our last name meant to find a man with a hard cock.

I towered over my sister by four inches at five-ten, but she outweighed me by five pounds. My hair was short and black; Helen’s shoulder-length hair had a brownish tint.

My sister called me Friday morning as I sat at my desk attempting to organize my day.

“I haven’t forgotten your birthday. Come over tonight, and James and I will take you to dinner.”

“Maybe I already have plans,” I said. I didn’t want to go out. I wanted to go home and catch up on my sleep. For the last two weeks I had been working some long days.

“Don’t play with me. I’m your baby sister. I know when you’re lying,” she said.

“I’ll be in the office until six or six thirty tonight.” I still had to finish a report so I wouldn’t have to come in tomorrow morning.

“Just come straight here. You can bathe and wear something from my closet. I’m too big to get myself into anything.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t say no, not to Helen.

We lived about fifteen minutes apart, but my job was thirty-five minutes from my apartment. I worked as an attorney for the State of Maryland for the Court of Special Appeals in Annapolis.

I finished in the office and was at her front door at fifteen minutes after seven. I rang the doorbell, and James opened the door and let me in. The sounds of a basketball game echoed in the background.

“Who’s winning?” I asked, standing in the hallway. I was a Washington Wizards fan.

“The game hasn’t started. They’re just showing some replays from the last game between the Wizards and the Chicago Bulls,” he said with his eyes pointing at the floor.

He looked good standing there in his dark blue suit and light blue shirt with a red tie. His hair was cut short. His spit-shined black dress shoes reflected a beam of light into my eyes.

James Shoemaker stood six-five and had starred on his nationally ranked college basketball team for three years. My sister, in her senior year of college, snagged him up when he was a sophomore. She must have recognized his spousal potential, I guessed.

He did have a fine body. Boy, could he wear a pair of Speedos.

Most of our interactions were in passing, me being his wife’s sister. There were a few times a boyfriend and I would double date with them.

“Helen said to go on up. She’s in the bedroom,” he said before walking back to the television.

I looked down at my shoes. I was worried that I had stepped in something because James’ eyes had focused on the floor at my feet instead of making eye contact. That was strange. We usually traded a few jokes.

After climbing the flight of stairs, I went into the bedroom. Helen was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a blue maternity dress, which ended a few inches below her knees.

“You look like a whale about to bust,” I said, dropping my tired ass beside her.

“Well, I feel like an elephant in a tight girdle. Take your clothes off and hop in the bathtub,” she said, forcing me to stand again.

My gray business suit, pantyhose, and underwear dropped to the floor. I walked into the bathroom and stepped into their large whirlpool tub filled with hot water. “Oh Lord…are you trying to boil me?” I yelled, stepping back out of the tub.

“No. Just trying to relax all those tensed muscles. Now get in, lie back in the tub, and relax,” she ordered.

After fifteen minutes of soaking, I stepped out and dried off. Helen handed me a pair of black stockings and a black garter belt.

“Just give me a pair of old-fashioned pantyhose,” I said, wanting to feel comfortable.

“No. Now put these on.”

I obeyed. She handed me a black silk dress.

“This is too short and too tight,” I said.

“I know,” Helen replied angrily.

“Where are my bra and panties?” I asked.

“You won’t need any.”

“You’re crazy. My ass will be showing.”

“Put on the dress and the heels,” she said.

She handed me a pair of black high-heel shoes. I put on the dress, sat on the bed, and put on the heels. Her eyes moved up and down my body.

”Wow,” I said after looking in the mirror. I looked and felt sexy. The heels made my legs look longer. The silk material rubbed against my nipples, causing them to harden, and showed off my round ass.

Erect nipples and my ass exposed. What else could a woman who hasn’t had sex in six months want?

A big, hard dick?

But a dick wasn’t in my near future. I had no prospects anywhere at work or in the fitness club, where I spent most of my after-work days.

“Why am I going out half naked and you’re covered from your neck to your knees?”

“I’m carrying two babies in this belly, and you’re not. Anyway, I wore that outfit five months ago. Maybe that’s why I’m pregnant,” she said, laughing.

My sister fixed my hair and let me don some of her jewelry. We went downstairs. James was sitting in front of the television still looking at the basketball game. He stood, looked at me, and then looked at Helen.

“What?” I asked, noticing a look that passed between them.

“Oh, nothing. He was just admiring my dress that you have on,” Helen said.

“Yes, the dress ready does look good on you,” James said after looking me up and down.