The Game, Part Four
Part Four
It wasn’t exactly what I’d call a victory. Yeah, I’m up for a challenge every now and then, but the ‘reward’ for this particular endeavor was only the feeling of embarrassment and exposure. I was still plenty covered, but I felt SO naked at the same time.
It would make me nervous enough if it was a private and personal choice I made before leaving the house or something, not that I’d ever make such a wardrobe decision on my own, but it was made much worse by the way it happened, as well as the fact that Abigail and Kate knew. I tried to focus forward, even if the sermon was long lost on me at this point, but couldn’t help but glance towards my sister. She had a subdued grin on her face, obviously satisfied with both the show and the outcome.
For a minute, I sat there with the newfound feeling underneath my skirt, fidgeting once or twice. I have no idea how other girls do it. It’s not comfortable at all, and it’s not the kind of texture I was used to having on those private areas. It’s not like I could undo the damage, however, as the underwear balled up in my hand was beyond repair. I’d have to wait until we arrived back home. At this point, I deeply regretted not bringing a purse, as I’d basically have to hold my panties until the service was over and I could find a trash can.
The minute of peace and quiet didn’t last very long. Abigail tapped my leg and gently placed her bulletin on my lap once she had my attention. Since we had avoided writing much down since the game began, it was easy to find the new note. In her familiar and barely legible handwriting, I made out the short question — ‘What about the rest?’
The rest?
I glanced towards Abigail again, as subtly as I was able so it wouldn’t seem like we were constantly ignoring what was happening up front. She was already slightly turned towards me, ready for my gaze, and giving me an expectant look. Rather than say anything, I just communicated to her with my confused expression in response. Despite our differences, we’re still sisters. It’s easy enough for us to read each other. Abby just rolled her eyes, then tapped her left boob twice.
The movement caused my eyes to drift downwards for a second, and I then immediately averted my gaze while feeling the heat rise to my face. Abigail’s blouse was tight enough that I basically ended up getting a full view of her modest shape. She hadn’t ‘caught up’ to my size yet, something she verbally lamented about all the time, and inadvertently checking her out was a reminder of that. But that wasn’t the point. We’re sisters. I don’t care if that’s exciting for others; there’s nothing weirder than seeing a sibling like that, and I just got an awkward eyeful thanks to her little gesture.
The tiny huff to my left hinted that Abigail was more annoyed than amused, or maybe she was just being dramatic. Either way, she swiped the bulletin from my lap and jotted down another quick note. This one wasn’t so subtle. As the folded paper landed neatly on my lap again, I looked down to read two words that were written bigger than anything else on the page. ‘Your BRA.’
At first, I was nervous that someone nearby might glance over my shoulder and see the bolded word, but that nervousness was replaced by shock when I put two and two together. The note about ‘the rest,’ and then the way she tapped her chest. Abby wasn’t trying to make me uncomfortable by drawing attention to her boobs. She was trying to communicate without outright saying it on paper, and now the message was crystal clear: ‘Take off your bra.’ As in, part of the dare. As in, ‘take off your underwear.’ Surely my sister couldn’t be serious! I was told underwear, singular. Not undergarments, or lingerie, or whatever.
Barely looking at Abby this time, I gave a small shake of my head. No way. Not a chance.
Destroying my nice underwear was enough of a crime, and I wasn’t about to squirm around in my seat in an effort to remove the bra from underneath my blouse. Heck, forget the removal process. I wasn’t about to walk around after the service without a bra on! I assumed the dares only lasted through the end of worship, as that’s when I planned to put my heels back on. Putting a bra back on, however, would require privacy. And privacy meant making it through a bunch of church ladies that would stop me for small talk while I was trying to prevent my nipples from poking through my white top. My blouse wasn’t as tight as Abigail’s, but it still mildly hugged my body, and just the thought of wearing it without a layer underneath was enough to cause a ripple of anxiety to course through my body.
I heard a stifled giggle to my right, and realized Kate must have seen the large note sitting on my lap. For once, she clearly wasn't on the same wavelength as my sister. Like me, Kate must have assumed the dare was for underwear only. But it wasn’t Kate’s dare; it was Abigail’s. Ignoring the quiet reaction from Kate, I once again glanced towards my sister.
Abigail had that same annoyed look on her face. She mouthed the word “now,” complete with a tiny shake of the iced drink in her hand.
The same threat as before. Only this time, I would have removed my underwear for absolutely no reason if she ‘spilled’ on me anyway. Sunk cost fallacy, I guess. The only way to justify destroying my nice underwear would be removing my bra as well. Was it worth it?
No.
It wasn’t. We were in the middle of church, and anyone sitting nearby would be able see Abigail do something so mean. During worship, no less. I wasn’t about to cave to my little sister’s demand, and I absolutely wasn’t going to walk around without a bra on. Plus, without a purse, I'd have to keep the bra in my hand. Bunched up panties were one thing, but a bra? Even with the cups folded into each other, my hands weren't that big . . .
I just shook my head again. Calling her bluff. Abigail would just have to accept that I already went above and beyond to do a dare that was totally unfair in the first place. I was still the older sister, and I was putting my foot down.
With another tiny huff, Abby plucked the bulletin from my lap and jotted down a short note. Instead of passing it back to me, however, she leaned over me to hand it to Kate. Just when I was about to hiss at her for being in my personal space and being too obvious about passing notes in church, it happened.
Using her other hand, Abigail popped the lid off her plastic coffee cup with just her thumb. And, before I could register what was happening, she began pouring it down my chest.