My Pregnant Niece Ch. 01

Prolog – Before the story

I was half way into my third bottle of lite beer when my head started to spin. Stumbling against the pool table, I handed my "girlfriend" to Sam and said, "Take care of her for me, my cue case is by the ATM machine." Then I fell.

Baby was by me in an instant, too quick and too attentive. Her old boyfriend was peering at me over her shoulder. I tried to focus, "Did you drug me?" Then everything went black.

The next morning I awoke at home to Rosina banging away in the kitchen so I would know she had made it to work and believe she was actually cleaning. I staggered to the bathroom. I looked like hell; troops had been on bivouac in my mouth all night and my head was pounding. My sweet little bedmate had slipped me a mickie to get a night with her ex. Now I understood. She had not been happy, yesterday, when I went to the bar with her early instead of writing late, like I usually did.

The bowl of oatmeal was bland and lumpy but it helped settle my queasy stomach. When she arrived four months ago on my doorstep, Baby was battered and bruised, carrying two black trash bags of worn, dirty clothing. Now she had a lot of newer, classier things. I called, Carol, one of Baby's friends, to come over. We packed her clothes into the suitcases I had bought her when we went on a cruise. We threw in her make-up and jewelry. "Carol, tell Baby to keep the little car and not to bother me again. She won't be allowed on the grounds and her keys won't work."

"Dave, Baby is making a big mistake. She has been happier with you than at any time I've known her."

"Let it go, Carol. She drugged me to spend a night screwing an ex-con, drug addict who doesn't work and beats her. Besides we knew it wouldn't last, she is way too young for me."

By evening, I still couldn't get into the mood for work. The house was too quiet. I needed to run away for a while. Baby had been a wonderful ego boost. She was great eye candy draped on my arm at events and parties. She wasn't into reading or current events, just rap music, clothes, drugs and parties. Still I will miss her. Her body was tight and demanding. She learned fast and enjoyed sex. She never once said, "No." She even brought Carol into our bed one night. Threesomes are too much of a good thing. It was a great one-time experience but I did not feel I satisfied either woman. I had fun watching them together; still it was not right for me. I'm sure my lifestyle and me, bored Baby to tears most of the time.

I decided to escape from California to New York for a few days. My publisher had been asking for a face-to-face meeting. He wanted a new contract. I'm almost finished with the last book required in the current one. He will want more "David Stone" mysteries and I want to try some sci-fi, even if it has to be under another name. I hope we can work it out.

Carl Tilman is a good man. He even placed my porn stories with another publisher. Publication of the mysteries has made us both enough money over the last fifteen years that we talk on an equal comfortable level. Movie rights, TV rights and my other works have made me rich, confident, sought after and independent. I keep my ego in check every morning when I shave. I look long and hard into the big mirror in my bathroom at my rugged face and aging body; hell, if I were a pretty woman, I wouldn't date me. Years in construction before I started to write full time, took their toll on my joints and left my face tanned, wrinkled and leathery.

My publisher's "Visiting Author's Suite" at a downtown five-star New York hotel was opulent and had breathtaking views of the skyline. I bet it was $5k a night. This was my fourth stay. The staff and I got along. They knew to keep the food portions small, stay away from the rich sauces and that I drank beer even at the fancy cocktail parties.

That first evening, I was tired. All I wanted was a small steak, a salad, a beer and some sleep. Truthfully, I was hurting and missing Baby. She had not been greedy and showy with my money. I sat at a table in the bar for a few minutes before going in to eat. A beautiful "working girl" came over to me and flirted for a few minutes. She had icily rejected my pleasant "Hello" an hour earlier in the lobby. Granted my flannel shirt and dated slacks were out of place in the midst of all the two thousand dollar suits. She must have asked someone who the tall, thin, graying hick was and then decided to come see me. Her name was Susan.

"Susan, you are breathtakingly beautiful. Another time please have dinner with me. Tonight, I'm tired, rejected and need to be alone." She seemed to understand, kissed me on the cheek, wiped away the lipstick residue and returned to her perch at the bar to scan the wallets coming through the door. I wondered if she was as good as Baby. Later during my entrée, she came into the restaurant on the arm of a chubby, short, rosy-faced man with glasses. His pudgy, soft body made his expensive clothes look cheap.

After Leno's monologue, I tried to sleep. I was getting worse and worse at that. Baby's body knew how to make me sleep soundly, better than I had in years. She always seemed to sleep well. But, she wasn't here now. I could never let her come back.

At breakfast, I fit in. I had matched the right suit, shirt, tie and shoes from a picture in a recent GQ issue. I had lots of suits from years ago. They looked all right to me, but the truly observant knew they were out-of-style. I should throw them out, along with good shirts that have the wrong type of collars and ties that are too wide or too narrow. Pudgy was eating alone, working on his second trip to the buffet.

My publisher and I haggled for a couple of days. I only wanted an increase in residual print royalties and return of all print rights after ten years. You would have thought I was asking for the moon. He wanted to be cut into any future movie rights. Carl was so sure that I was going to fail at Sci-fi that he fought hard to keep me out of that genre. I think he just wanted all my time to be devoted to something that he knew would sell. Finally, I agreed that my first Sci-fi would be under another name, compromised to twelve years as long as he did not re-sale any print rights and got a couple more royalty points. We headed out together to celebrate at lunch.

"Dave why aren't you spending your money, enjoying life and having lots of women hanging on you all the time?"

"Just lucky I guess."

"No, really. You produce more than any of our noted authors. Have some fun. Don't burn out on us."

"That's why I want to try some different things. I just got dumped by a lovely sexpot. You know anyone who wants to take advantage of me on the rebound?"

"I know a lot who will keep a smile on your face for a buck."

"I think I am going to start traveling more while I write. I've always wanted to see the art in Europe and sample the wares there."

"Take condoms."

"Carl, for a married man, you know too much and have naughty thoughts. When you are ready to write them, I'll get you into porn."

"I'm no good at writing. I've tried."

"I don't need the competition anyway. Maybe you could act."

"Not in porn. Not with my equipment. Can I talk you into going on tour this year?"

"Where and what type?"

"English speaking countries only, some signings, two fairs and TV spots. The one reading you did last year was fantastic. It got great coverage and lots of tape replays. Would you do it again?"

"All expenses paid, no deadlines during the year, let me schedule some free time and you have a deal. Yes, I'll read. I need a change but I'm getting too old to keep up the frantic pace. This will probably be the last time I'll say, "Yes" to a book tour."

Carl was happy. He had expected more resistance. The beautiful hooker came in as we were leaving. She nodded to Carl and smiled at me. She liked my suit.

"That beauty shot me down when I said "Hi" to her the other night."

"I think she did me too the first time I talked to her."

"Is she as good as she looks?"

"Save your money. Talk to me first, if you want to rent one."

"Will do, but I think I'll just knock around a couple of days and then go back home, where I belong. I'm out of my element in the big city. I'm just not streetwise enough to survive in New York."

"From what I heard, during your last visit to the big city, you wore out a few of our secretaries and were holding classes in sex-ed."

"You are a smooth talker and know how to make me feel good, even if it is a lie."

There are thousands of things to do in New York. Still, even in such an exciting city, with all expenses paid, it can be boring because you are alone. I was ready to go home. On my last evening, the fish in the dinning room tank seemed to be waving, "Goodbye."

It was good to get back. Nothing had changed. It was still quiet but I was resigned to my fate. There were 16 calls from Baby. I erased them without listening to them. I was ready to move on.

That evening I had a flood of story ideas to jot down. The next day, "Tequila Fog" just flowed off my keyboard and onto the hard drive. My useable output was twice normal.

The word was out when I went to the bar that evening. Dave was unattached again. Surely, it is my Richard Boone good looks that attracted the girls. I can't believe it would be just my money. I was eating up the attention and choosing to believe my own press but I was even more excited about how much I had gotten done that day. I wanted to have another day that good tomorrow. I said my goodbyes. I was parked just outside the door. As I walked out, the air was suddenly full of screeching, crashing sounds. I saw my car coming at me and jumped, only to be slammed back into the side of the bar. I heard my back crack.

Two days later, I awoke to discover a big rig was cut off and swerved hitting my car, pushing it into the side of the building. Knowing that did not make my four broken lumbar vertebra feel any better. I could not feel the scratches, cuts and bruises. For a few days in the hospital, I either peed into a jug or crawled to the bathroom and slid myself up, onto the toilet. The pain was so bad; drugs did not help and I was forever holding my breath. One nurse kept bragging on my piss output. I told her since she was into such things, I would save it when I got home and send it to her each week. Well, I though it was funny. I didn't see her again.

Within a week, I was back in my house. Within another week all my family realized, with some disappointment, I was going to live. I made some notes. Writing was out of the question. I felt bad and wanted to be alone to scratch, fart and groan by myself. I watched TV with the sound off. It isn't bad that way. The house was a mess and getting worse. I did not care. This was the first thing that had grounded me in my entire life. I was having trouble dealing with not being able to work, play and get around.

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After the third ring, I crawled to the phone and I was surprised to hear my forty-five-year-old baby sister's voice. We had had a normal childhood complete with playing doctor and "I'll show you mine, if ----." However, we had drifted far apart in the twenty years since she married a well meaning, bible thumping, judgmental man. She had three kids. The eldest - the perfect son, the youngest - the pampered princess and then the third, Kalie - the cute, quiet, overly sensitive, always thinking, 18 year old, slight girl in the middle. Kalie and I had been close until she turned sixteen and I was classified as a bad influence by her parents.

Mom had kept sis and me informed about each other. Mostly, I heard about how much trouble Kalie was causing in the family.

"Dave, maybe we can do something to help each other. Mom told me that you have hurt your back and could use some help around the house and to run errands. We have had to ask Kalie to move out. She will not follow our rules, is disrupting our household and is pregnant. Maybe she could stay with you while she decides what she is going to do."

Over the years, I had been the most financially successful in the family and was the one called on to solve family problems that no one else wanted to touch. My back hurt and my first thought was to point out the wonderful family values sis was showing by kicking out her pregnant teenaged daughter. I stayed quiet. I could use the help. "I would love to talk with her. Maybe something can be worked out. Put her in a taxi and send her over."

"No, I'll bring her."

"Don't do that, sis. I want to talk with her, not hear you berate her and go on and on. Put her in a taxi and let her come to me on her own; but only if she wants to."

An hour later, a tight-jawed, red-eyed Kalie rang my doorbell. "It's open, come on in." Her eyes scanned the room and her facial expression changed to shock. From my easy chair and pile of pillows, I forced a smile from my unshaven face and responded, "Yea, I know my house is messy and cluttered."

"I've known you all my life and have never seen you live anything like this."

"OK, Mom, don't nag me, my back hurts and I haven't had the maid work for a while."

That broke the ice. We talked and caught up for a couple of hours. She made coffee, moved me to the kitchen and puttered around cleaning up. She could talk openly while she was busy. The problem was so transparent. Kalie wanted to be accepted and loved so much she had been easy-pickings for two different guys. Both had used her, discarded her and neither was anywhere to be found now. Her eyes were sad and her voice was hollow; there was no joy or hope - just words, just information.

"Kalie, if you want, you can move in with me while you decide what you are going to do. My world is quiet. I do not have hundreds of rules. You respect me; I'll respect you; you earn your keep helping me around here; I'll pay the bills and take care of you financially."

I felt good about what I was offering but she looked so coldly at me, it took the good feeling away. "You will kick me out too. I don't believe you. What else do you expect from me?" I could feel the hurt and anger inside her. Her attack shocked me. I struggled up and went to the bathroom. When I came back, she was silent and would not look at me. It was time she grew up.

"Kalie, you are obviously having a lot of trouble moving from kid to responsible adult. I offered you my home and support to help you through your current round of bad decisions. Some people make bad decisions all their lives and do not have anyone who is willing to help them. Maybe you will turn out to be a crack whore with six kids. Who knows? In any event, all your life decisions will be yours. Staying here is just one option. You are an adult. You are free to go find other options that suit you better."

She sputtered, cried, apologized. She said she wanted to stay. It was getting late. I was tired and buzzed on pain pills.

"Alright, call your parents and tell them you will be staying here. Tonight we'll have a quiet dinner at home, drink some wine, talk and hit the sack early. Tomorrow, you go get your stuff and move in."

The evening was relaxed. She was worried about what to do about the baby - Guilt, Guilt, Guilt. She only saw two options: abortion or raising a kid out of wedlock. The idea of putting it up of adoption seemed to be new for her. Late in the evening she finally asked, "Why aren't you married?"

"Worked too long hours; work always seemed to get in the way of any long term relationship. If you are around long enough, you'll see that there is nothing I enjoy more than the company, sight and touch of a beautiful woman."

"Mom and Dad say you are a Pagan with no morals."

"In their terms, I am. Your dad judged me and quit talking to me when I observed that God gave men and women more nerve endings dedicated to the enjoyment of sex than all of the other nerves combined. Obviously, God meant for us to bring pleasure to each other and enjoy sex. The morals comment is also because I think oral sex is a wonderful God given present to humans and because I paraphrased a bible verse into saying "That God so loved Man and Woman that he gave them oral sex and masturbation------------"."

She looked shocked, blushed and tried to hide a smile. "Kalie, I'm getting naughty, too much wine and good company. Time for me to go to bed. Lots to do tomorrow."

Over the next couple of weeks, we settled into a routine. Kalie had the house in great shape again, had an OBGYN doctor who said she was very healthily and four months along. My back was doing better and I was writing again, much to the satisfaction of my editors. Kalie and I were even learning to be playful and open with each other. She was easy to be around and easy to talk to. Our occasional playful exchanges were relaxed and fun.

One evening, I went by her open bedroom door and noticed she was sitting on her dressing table's stool shaving her legs. I leaned against the door and watched. She glanced at me several times. "Do you like watching me shave my legs?"

"Yes."

After another minute I added, "Do you like me watching you shave your legs?"

"Yes."

"Another two months, you will need someone's help shaving."

"Are you volunteering?"

"You are about finished this time. Next time maybe you will let me practice so I'll be ready when you need me."

Kalie was almost seven months along when I tried to pull an all-nighter. She had not been sleeping well lately. Several times, before I lay down on the couch in my office at three a.m., I heard her rambling around in the kitchen. She roused me only a little when she lifted my head and sat down putting my head in her lap. As my eyes adjusted, I saw she had coffee and a couple of cookies for each of us on the coffee table. Still I was comfortable, so I pretended to go back to sleep. She idly stroked my hair above my ear. For months the pain in my lower back and right hip had me believing that my dick had died. Tonight, it began to resurrect itself. I was puzzled by that until I recognized the smell of wet pussy. I struggled to sit up, saying too sternly, "Kalie, I have to set up."

"Why?"

"Let's have coffee. I'll tell you later." I expected that to be the end of the conversation.

Later as we sat watching the fire, she asked, "Why did you have to sit up? Is you back worse?"

"No, Kalie, I was relaxed, awake and enjoying your touch. I caught the wonderful, sexy, fragrance of your body. It was exciting me and making me want you."

Her eyes filled with panic. I continued, "Don't worry. Nothing has changed. I am the same. I answered you truthfully as one adult to another. It doesn't mean I'm going to rape you. I just needed space to regain some control."

She was struggling to say something. She wouldn't look at me. I stayed quiet and she eventually blurted out, "I can't sleep, my breasts are very tender, I'm wet between my legs and horny all the time."

"That's normal. Touch yourself. Make yourself feel better."

"I've tried but my mind gets going and I think about how wrong it is. Then nothing happens and I'm even worse off."

She was crying quietly, filled with frustration.

"For tonight, Kalie, close your eyes and pretend your favorite fantasy man is touching and kissing your body. Your can wake yourself out of your fantasy and stop at any time. You are safe. Only, you and I are here. Let the fantasy go. Let it bring you as much pleasure and relief as your body needs. Just relax and feel the touches and kisses."

I closed her eyes with my fingertips and kissed each eyelid to seal it shut. I sucked away her tears, caressed her neck with my hands and kissed each of her ears. My lips trailed down her neck and shoulders, around to her lips. I held her face tenderly in my hands and my tongue licked gently around her mouth. She exhaled slightly opening her lips for my tongue to slip in. As mine withdrew, hers darted out and I sucked it gently. We learned to kiss; my hands parted her robe and explored her swollen breasts. My fingertips and thumbs trapped and gently rolled each nipple. Instinctively, she nestled her body into my hands. Her breasts were ready for my mouth and tongue.