tagIncest/TabooGetting Spoiled

Getting Spoiled

bySweetestThing©

Author's Note: This story contains sex between an 18 year old woman and an older family member. As usual, it takes a while for the sex to start but once it does in Chapter 3 it's a little dirtier than my stories tend to be and maybe not for everyone but I hope some of you enjoy it all the same.

Chapter One: The World's your fuckin' Oyster

Nicole Hastings sat nervously in the chair she'd been shown to. She was in one of the oldest and most expensive hotels in the entire city. She was not accustomed to a place this fancy. The Hastings of suburban Chicago were more of a Applebee's or TGI Friday's kind of family. She felt out of place. Being in her school uniform wasn't helping matters along. Ironically, it was one of the very few outfits she had that was somewhat appropriate for her setting as it consisted of a knee length blue plaid skirt, white dress shirt, blue and white tie and monogrammed blazer. She imagined, as she looked around the room, that if the fancy people had ever brought their children to eat here, their children would be wearing something along the lines of what she was wearing.

The problem was, being an 18 year old Senior who had developed early and to an extent that most girls never did, Nicole did not look like a child. Her long, raven hair fell artfully in front of her face, cut in a bob that was designed to look sexy and effortless but which had actually taken the better part of a few hours and cost her near 200 dollars. The tight white dress shirt and monogrammed blazer bulged quite noticeably with the very large breasts that she had which seemed to run in the family. Her grandmother and mother both were busty women and though both had cautioned her about a future of a sore lower back, both had also told her to enjoy them now while she was young and they were still as perky and firm as any other 18 year old's. Her skirt may have been an appropriate length but even the sight of her long, lean calves and shins was more than enough to please any Man who was old-fashioned enough to call himself a leg man. A man who considered himself more of a fan of backsides would have had nothing to complain about either, given the way the tight plaid skirt hugged her firm, rounded derriere. More than a few male diners, and perhaps a female or two, had been quite disappointed when she'd been shown her seat by the Maitre'D, meaning they could no longer enjoy the sight of hers. No, Nicole looked less like a child than she did a hooker for men with a very pronounced schoolgirl fetish and bottomless pockets. As she caught some glances from around the room, Nicole began to worry that some people had that very thought and were either very disapproving or wondering if they could afford her rates. She self consciously shrank in her chair, slumping forward a bit and trying to pull her skirt a little lower so she was showing as little leg as possible. She didn't want to encourage the stares.

"Would the young miss like something to drink while she waits?" her waiter, a very well dressed waiter in his 40's, asked politely.

"You probably would ID the girls in school uniforms who ask for booze, wouldn't you?" She asked glumly, without a lot of hope

"We'd be pretty foolish if we didn't." He nodded

"Then a Diet Coke would just be peachy." She smiled thinly as she asked, handing the wine list she'd been given over.

Nicole barely even knew why she was there in the first place. It was to spend her time with grandfather, sure, but she had no clue why she was alone. Or why she'd had to meet him downtown instead of him visiting their house like a normal Grandparent would. But then, she didn't really have a normal relationship with her grandfather. She'd only even met him once. He'd been some kind of bigshot and had gotten very rich in something or other and had relocated to the Bahamas for tax purposes before Nicole had even been born. So Nicole had very vague childhood memories of a trip to the Islands when she'd been 5. That had just been for a week though and apparently there'd been a falling out between her Mother and her Grandfather shortly thereafter. She didn't know why exactly. Something about her mother not approving of his new girlfriend. Every time the subject of her Grandfather came up, Nicole's mother would frown and change the subject. So Nicole didn't understand why her mother had told her to meet him at all. Or why she wouldn't come. They'd argued about it at Breakfast that morning.

"So I have to go but you and Dad and Maddy don't?" She'd fumed, she'd wanted to go to the Mall after school. Not have to take the bus into the city.

"Your Father is working and your sister has a soccer game." Heather Hastings had said to her oldest daughter "And your Grandfather and I don't get along."

"So why do I have to go at all?"

"It isn't my idea honey." Her mother had sounded very much like a general giving an order to loyal troops that he'd been ordered to give after losing a power struggle "But your Father pointed out that it's the Educational trust that your Grandfather set up that's going to be paying for College so if you want to be able to go to Northwestern and not have to work two jobs to cover your student loans then you should just go into the city, talk to him for a few minutes and then come home."

And Nicole had grumbled and pouted but had relented. So that's why she was there, in a fancy hotel, being looked at like a very expensive hooker and sipping on a Diet Coke instead of at the mall, trying to find a dress that would be sure to catch Tyler Hampton's eye at Paul D'Agastino's party on Saturday.

"So you're her then?" The gruff voice exclaimed, rousing her from her thoughts of partying. Nicole had looked up to see a man she'd only half remembered through hazy memories and out-of-date pictures. But there was no doubting it was him. Victor Murphy was an easy man to identify. He was imposingly large and thick and looked to be at least a foot taller than Nicole's 5'4 frame. His hair was still mainly a rich, dark black although there was enough grey at the temples to indicate his age. His age, for that matter, was something that Nicole couldn't immediately place. He looked like he could be anywhere from 55 to 70. But Nicole knew he had to be on the older side of that divide. Her mother was 41, after all.

"Um, yeah. I'm Nicole." She said with a shy smile, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. She didn't know if she should stand up to greet him or what. She made a move to do so but he waved her down.

"Stay in your seat, I'm not the damn Pope." He said, sitting down. He was surprisingly quick and spry for someone his age. The more Nicole surveyed him, the less made sense. Nicole knew he had money. That explained the fancy suit he was wearing. But it looked out of place. He looked harsh, weathered and with what looked like a day's worth of grey stubble. His voice sounded like an Irish-American gangster you'd see in a movie from the 50's. He fidgeted in the pricey suit to the extent that it looked like he'd never worn one before, like he'd only worn it to impress the judge on the day of his sentencing. He had harsh, piercing grey eyes that seemed to be curiously examining her.

"You got your mother's eyes, anyway." He said. Nicole gave a shy smile. People often told her that. Their eyes were both a rich, Irish green.

"And good teeth too. Guess there was a plus that she married a dentist after all." He continued assessing her. Nicole was about to respond to this when she noticed that his eyes, as many men's tended to, had gone down to her chest. She felt mortified for a second before he clarified.

"And she sent you to that same hoity-toity school she went to I see." Nicole nodded, relieved. The crest on her blazer.

"Yeah, Mom always said she loved St. Benedict's."

"Not my fucking idea, I can tell you that much." Victor said as he picked up the menu that'd been waiting for him. "Spending that kind of money on a school never made sense to me. I mean, what, do they teach a different history to rich kids? Like they let you in on the 6 secret presidents we had before Washington?"

"Um...." Nicole was certainly not used to hearing an adult swear like this. So brazenly and casual. Her usual quick wit was definitely put off.

"That was your grandmother's idea, I can tell you that right now." Victor said, snapping his fingers for the waiter who quickly responded and was at his side "Whisky. And none of that Scottish garbage. Jameson's. Neat. And pour it like you've got a pair."

The waiter nodded, a little embarrassed. Nicole felt a little embarrassed for him. Nicole might have felt a little out of place in the restaurant but her Grandfather, among the fine white linen table-clothes and the polished silverware seemed like a shark in the middle of a desert. She sat uncomfortably as her Grandfather kept looking at the menu.

"I tell you, I don't understand what half of this French shit is." He said, shaking his head. "Up to me I'd have gone to Morton's but your father told me you're a vegetarian."

"I eat fish..."

"What, the Fish don't feel it like the cows do?"

"No, it's just..."

"And let me tell you, I've hooked some big Marlins and Swordfish in my day and if the idea is you're saving just the nice animals those things are ten times as worth being saved as a goddamn Chicken. You ever been around chickens, kid? My mother used to keep 'em in our back-yard. They're two steps away from being retarded, I can tell you."

"It's really more of a health thing." Nicole felt as though she couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Well, just so you know," Vic continued "I understand watching your figure and everything but back in my day we had gals like Monroe and Mansfield who looked like they'd seen a steak or two in their lives. Didn't bother us one bit. Made 'em look like if you got them back to your place they'd be soft and fun, not like they'd break if you bent 'em wrong like most of the girls today."

Nicole just nodded and tried as surreptitiously as she could to look under the table at her phone to check the time. The waiter returned with the glass of Whisky Vic had ordered, near full, and stood nervously.

"Ready to order?" He asked, clearly hoping to clear the table early. "We have some very good specials today including a poached...."

"You fellas will cook a steak, right?"

"Yes sir we have several excellent cuts...."

"Porterhouse, rare. With a potato on the side." Victor snapped quickly, like a man used to having his orders taken and followed.

"Excellent. And for the lady?"

"Um, the salad. Waldorf Salad." Nicole said with an apologetic smile. If the waiter noticed it, he didn't react.

The two of them sat together in relative silence for the next few minutes. There may have been a genetic bond between the two of them but they certainly didn't know each other and Nicole guessed that they wouldn't have all that much in common. Still, there was something that had been on Nicole's mind since he'd shown up.

"So what should I call you?" She asked. She was unsure of this. She vaguely remembered calling him Grampa when she'd met him as a child but that would seem awkward. And the only people who did know him, like her mother and grandmother, tended to speak of him in uncomplimentary terms. Victor looked like the question caught him off guard a bit too and was something he needed to think about.

"I don't know. Whatever you want I guess. Gramps or Grampa or Vic, it's all fine by me." He finally said with a shrug. Nicole nodded. She wouldn't press the issue. She'd see where the meal went.

Their food came relatively quickly and they set about eating. While it may have been Nicole who wanted to get out of there, Vic was clearly the hungrier of the two and began carving up his steak just almost before it'd been set down in front of him. Nicole was picking at her own salad gingerly, really just concentrating on the fruit and walnuts that it liberally contained. It was a few minutes into the meal that Nicole realized that the silence had become a little awkward. On her part anyway. She barely knew the man in front of her and felt as though she should make some attempt to try and get to. So, clearing her throat, she tried to make an effort to do so.

"So," Nicole let the issue of what to call him rest for the time being "What brings you to Chicago?"

"You do." Vic said, as if the question was asked by a very simple person.

"Me?" Nicole was surprised. She'd been told he was passing through on business.

"Yeah, you. You're 18, right? And just got into Northwestern, right?" Victor said, as if everyone in the world knew the details of her age and academic status.

"Yeah..." Nicole nodded, unsure of where this was going. Was he looking for thanks for her college fund? "And I know you're paying for it and thank...."

"Stow that, it ain't about that." He corrected her "But that's a big fucking deal, right?"

"I guess." She shrugged. A lot of her classmates had got into fancier schools.

"No guesses, it is." He said, pointing his fork, still dripping with the juice of his steak, right at her "And that deserves some rewards."

That did make Nicole's eyes light up. That meant presents. And Nicole liked presents.

"So....you got me something?" Nicole asked, enthusiastically. Vic shook his head.

"Nah, I don't know what you kids like today. I figured I'd come here and take you to get whatever it is you wanted."

Nicole was definitely interested now.

"What are we talking about here," She asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously "Like some new clothes or a stereo or...."

"Yeah, all that if you want. But think bigger."

"How big?" Nicole asked "Because I can think pretty big."

"Let me give you the ten cent version of the story, kid." Vic said with a breath as he shook his head " Spent my first few years on a farm in Clark County before my folks came to the North Side in '49. Dropped out of school at 17 and couple months later those fucking thieves draft my ass. I came back from killing those gooks in '68 feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch who ever set foot on this city's streets. I must have seen near half my useless platoon KIA over there so when I got home I was feeling pretty lucky and determined to make something happen for myself. Now, I must have been born with two different horseshoes up my ass because about a week after I came back I hit my number hard, the whole way. And this is back when Mickey Genaro was running stuff North Side so the payoff was like 10 grand and 10 grand when that actually used to mean something. So after I buy a few things for my mother, get hammered for about a month solid and paint the town red I still have enough to buy Old Man Kozlowski's scrap yard. Run that for a while. I had to marry your grandmother in '69, so it ain't all roses, because your mother's already on the way. Run the 'yard for a while and make good money, buy another one. Then another. Soon I'm doing pretty well."

Nicole just nodded along. Sure the casual racism and sexism were off-putting but it was a fascinating glimpse into her family's past. Vic didn't slow down.

"I had this guy who managed a yard for me, Jimmy Sullivan. He had this kid brother, Phil. Kind of a dorky kid, but a real fucking genius, right? Like, he was just 15 but already at University doing some advanced math stuff. He'd come in Some sundays and help out for a buck here or there. Pretty soon I just had him doing my books for me, right? This must have been back in '72 or so. Great kid and always going on about how computers were coming and going to change the whole ballgame. Now, I'd always liked that science fiction shit as a kid so I could see what he was talking about. How they'd be running our houses and stuff. So he graduated, talking about he was going to go out west and start up some computer company or something if he could find the backers and I said, fuck it, I'm doing pretty well, I'll stake the kid a few hundred grand. So he took it and ran with it and eventually figured out how to program something or other that everyone wanted a piece of. I more or less forgot about it for years. I mean, even when your grandmother divorces me in '79 that ratty fuck lawyer of hers goes hard after my bank accounts, makes me sell one of the yards even that stake never came up. So I was back to running my one yard and more or less forgot about Phil Sullivan until I decided to cash half my stake out 'round the time you're born and you wanna know what that little fuck Philly Sullivan, who used to trip over his own freakin' shoes in my office, gives me back? A check for my few hundred grand....only with about three added zeros at the fucking end of it. I had to call the little shit to make sure he wasn't busting my balls or made a fucking typo."

Nicole's eyes widened as her Grandfather laughed heartily at the big climax to the story he'd told a couple hundred times in the resulting years. She knew her grandfather was wealthy but she could do the math. She had no idea. Still, his laugh did draw several stares from the other patrons.

"So I said, fuck these winters and those same fucking thieves in Washington if they think they're getting a slice of that. So I pull up stakes, head on down to a place where the water's clear, beer's cold and the girls are wearing bikinis but not before I drop by the house your grandma and that little ratfuck lawyer shared, you probably call him Grampa now for fuck's sakes, and nail that cancelled fucking check to their door."

Vic burst into self-satisfied laughter again. Nicole joined him, not that she had anything against her grandmother or her husband Jerry. but, well, he had hundreds of millions of dollars and wanted to buy her presents.

"So when you ask me how big you can think, kid, keep a few things in mind." Vic held up one of his huge hands and began counting off "One, I've got more money than god ever intended a guy like me to have. Two, I ain't taking it with me when I check out of here. Three, I know the bigger the shit I get you the more my cunt of an ex-wife will hear about it."

Nicole winced a little at this particular crudity but kept going with it. Vic gave her a little wink as he counted off his pinky.

"And 4, you seem like a good enough kid and smart enough to get into a good school so, fuck it, you probably deserve it. And it'll be fun to see you enjoy it a little." Vic shrugged at this last part. Clearly it was not as important as the point that had preceded it. "So you thinking big yet?"

Nicole was practically in a daze. She had gone into lunch not knowing anything about her grandfather and now, before she'd even finished her salad, she had a grasp on his entire life story and he was offering the world to her. She let her mind wander over anything she might want but, being a teenage girl on a strict allowance, there was almost too much to think about. Still, he had said to think big so, as she rested her chin on the her hand, joining her grandfather as the only ones in the room with their elbows on their table, she thought big.

"I don't have a car...." She said hopefully, still not believing that her luck would be that good. She fully expected him to say that she'd thought a little too big. He just nodded though.

"Now you're on the right track."

Nicole practically squealed.

"What kind do you want?" He said, taking a small bit of joy in his Granddaughter's happiness.

"What kind can I have?"

"I keep telling you, think big." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I keep seeing those adorable little Benz convertibles...." Nicole began before Vic cut her off sharply with a sour look on his face.

"No way, kid. I had an older brother, would have been your uncle, who died fighting those Kraut cocksuckers. I'm not going to buy you a car that probably came out of the same factory as the mortar shell that got him."

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bySweetestThing© 66 comments/ 267293 views/ 201 favorites

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