Sisters' Secret

At just that moment, the door next to mine opened, and two young women stepped out into the hallway. I was immediately stunned by how strikingly beautiful they both were. The girl on the right was about 5'9" with long, black hair and skin the color of coffee ice cream. Her eyes were a deep, mysterious brown. Her body was lean and lithe, her breasts small, her entire frame tight and well-conditioned like a gymnast. The second girl, clearly the sister of the first girl, was a bit shorter, around 5"5'. Her skin was a shade lighter, but still reminded me of something sweet and delicious. Her eyes were the color of rich, dark honey. Unlike her sister, she was chubby, but not in a bad way. Her face, breasts, belly, and thighs were pleasantly rounded in a way that made her just as beautiful as her sister.

"Oh, hi," I said, forcing myself to say something so that I'd stopped staring.

"Hey," said the taller sister in an adorable Kiwi (translation: New Zealand) accent.

"Hey," repeated the shorter one in an identical accent.

"My name is Devon," I told them. "I live in this apartment here. I'm just moving in."

"I'm Shanthi," said the taller sister. "This is my sister, Asha."

"Hey," Asha said again with a smile.

"Those are interesting names," I remarked. "Where are you from?"

"We're from New Zealand," Shanthi told me, "but our father is from Sri Lanka."

"Our mother is a Kiwi," added Anush, meaning that their mother was a "paiheke" – a person descended from European colonizers. "Are you American?" she asked.

"Yep," I admitted. (Side note: So far, everyone I'd talked to since coming to this country assumed I was Canadian. At least, they always asked me if I was Canadian. I think that, for whatever reasons, those people were afraid I might be offended if they asked if I was American.)