Once upon a time I was at this guy's house. We weren't officially dating, but we had started to see each other from time to time. Well, his neighborhood had a community pool, and it was a lovely summer day, so we decided to head on down there. I took off my pants, folded them up by the pool and jumped in. I started swimming laps around when I noticed him laughing uncontrollably.
All he could respond with was laughter and wide eyes, one finger extended at my chest. Turns out I had fallen out of my new bathing suit and had been flashing all the pool patrons for a good five minutes. That embarassment, however, was nothing compared to the rest of the day.
Little kids had been running along the pool deck the whole time, and it so happened one of them kicked my jeans into the pool "by accident". Thankfully, I had brought a cover-up. So, while my jeans hung out on his deck, we laid around on his red daybed, watching TV. He eventually fell asleep, and some moments later, his younger sister (who was about 8) came down the stairs into his room in the basement. She started to say something then immediately got a shocked expression on her face, and trudged back up the stairs. I shrugged and figured she forgot what she was supposed to say, realized he was asleep, or was just being a goofy kid. No harm done. May I mention at this point that my cover-up dress matched the duvet?
His darling sister came peeking around the corner a few minutes later, yelling for my date to go speak with their mother. The sister crossed him cautiously as he sleepily stumbled up the stairs, and came over to me wringing her hands.
"Um... Katie... can I ask you a question?"
"Sure sweetheart, what is it?"
"Ermh... why are you... naked?"
leaping out of bed and a good six feet I exclaimed, "I'm not naked!" and spread my arms to reveal my red cover-up. Her hands covered her mouth in shock.
"He's gonna kill me... oh no..."
"...what did you say?"
"Oh, god, he's gonna kill me... I told my mom... I thought you guys were having," she went into a whisper, "*sex*"
I stood there in shock. I'd known this guy about a week, and I was only in eighth grade.
His little sister started to run out of the room when he came storming back in, glaring. She shrank in fear and ran off.
In a few minutes, we were called to all sit in their den and wait to have a "talk" with his mother. The following hour was spent being lectured to by his mother, who had a very thick spanish accent and a fiesty attitude to match, then being driven home in what was perhaps the most awkward car ride of my life. Needless to say, I decided not to go back.