Sally, My Niece

My Niece Sally:

What happened in this story isn’t true, and does have a somewhat happy ending.

I had just moved to this state after falling in love with who is now my wife, over the Internet. My wife and I fell in love in a chat room, talking late into every night on line, then, later in our relationship, on the telephone. One thing led to another, and we decided that we couldn’t live without each other, so I packed up everything I own, moved, and was very happy for a lot of years.
I met Sally during the first month in town during a family get together where I was introduced as the new boyfriend, and pretty much humiliated for being dumb enough to move to the state after meeting someone on the internet. (It wasn’t very common back then, and people that actually met people from the Internet were looked at as being a little off.) Sally was twelve at the time, and was really quite grown up for her age.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here Uncle Mark” She said to me after I took quite a verbal thrashing from her mother about how I could have been an axe murderer or some other sort of psycho.
“I’d have showed up with a gun if I was going to meet someone from the Internet.” Misha declared. As if to prove to the rest of her family just how tough she was. “If I showed up at all. You just don’t know about people these days.”
I became quite successful in the new state, going to work for a few companies before finding “The One”. I worked my way up through middle management fairly quickly, and on up to VP of Operations. We bought a large home on quite a bit of land. We had a swimming pool, a guest cottage, and even my own driving range on the property. There was a pasture for horses, and one for the few head of cattle that we had to keep us busy and help supplement our income. My wife and I were very happy and things were going well.
The phone rang, one spring evening.
“What’s the matter?” I heard my wife asking the yet unknown person on the other end of the line. “I know.” She continued, looking in my direction holding a finger in the air as to tell me to wait a minute. “Ok, we’ll be here…. Uh, yea…. Ok….I’ll talk to you then.”
She pushed the button on the receiver and started into the den where I was clacking on the computer catching up on some e-mail from work. She sat down in the chair next to my desk with a worried look on her face.
“That was Misha.” She said
“Oh yea?” I replied, stopping what I was doing, and looking at her over my reading glasses.
“Yea, and it’s not good”
I took off my glasses, and leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms over my head, waiting for the impending bad news.
Misha and her husband had moved to the south end of the state when he got a better paying job, so at this point the news could be anything.
“Sally was caught steeling at the super market, and she’s been ditching school again. Misha thinks it’s the friends she’s got and wants to get her away from them.
“So, what does that have to do with us?” I asked, thinking that I already knew the answer.
“Misha wants to know if we can keep her the summer. Let her work on the ranch, and learn some responsibility. Maybe you can get her a job down at the plant, and teach her what it means to work for a living. She’s gonna be sixteen next month. She can work there now can’t she?”
“Well, yea,” I stammered, “but I don’t have time to baby sit while I’m there, I got work to do while I’m at work.” I argued even though I felt as if it were pointless.
“You don’t have to baby sit. She’ll have supervisors to do that won’t she?” She explained, seeming to have this all figured out. “I think it would do her some good to have chores around the house, and a job to go to every day.”
She noticed my “deer in the headlights look” and tapped me on the knee as she stood up. “I’ll tell her it’s ok, and we’ll pick her up this weekend. How’s that?”
“Ok,” I said, “We’ll pick her up this weekend. I’ll call and cancel the golf game with the guys.” I started to reach for the cell phone on my desk to retrieve the numbers.
“Oh shoot,” she exclaimed, “I’m supposed to go to the city with Granny, and Carla for Granny’s eye appointment Saturday.”
“Carla can take her, can’t she?”
“She’s afraid to drive in the city by herself.” She looked at me with those beautiful green eyes she has. The ones that I knew from the first time I saw them would be able to get me to do almost anything. “Can you drive down and get Sally?”
Now she was really pouring it on. Giving me that slightly pouting, schoolgirl in trouble look. I couldn’t resist it, even though it went against my better judgment.
The rest of the week went by without any more emergencies popping up. It had been arranged that I would drive the seven and a half hour drive down on Saturday; I would spend the night at a hotel, despite the invitation from my sister in law to stay at their house, then get up early Sunday, and drive back with my, not so willing niece, and begin the punishment of a summer of hard work.
Early Saturday, I pulled the pickup out of the garage, checked the oil, and the belts. I glanced over at my pride and joy sitting under a car cover still in the garage, a nineteen ninety-eight, Dodge Viper. It was blue, and a roadster, and begging me to drive it.
“Everything look ok under there?” My wife called out while she was getting into her Cadillac.
“I got a belt that looks pretty bad.” I grinned to myself.
“Do you think it will make it?” She walked up behind me, looked over my shoulder, and pretended to know what she was looking at.
“I don’t know,” I said pointing at a worn spot on the air conditioning belt. “It’s not looking good.” I made a clicking sound with my tongue behind my teeth. “I could take the Viper. It’s almost as good on gas as the old truck here.”
“If you keep your foot out of the engine.” She smirked. “Go a head, just be careful, but you know Sally’s got her permit She’s gonna want to drive.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’m not teaching anyone to drive in this.”
I’d already had the car cover off, and was folding it neatly to be stored in the trunk. I took my overnight bag from the cab of the pickup, and tossed it in the trunk next to the cover with a whole new exuberance. Now the trip was going to be fun. I’ll put the top down, the wind in my hair, and the sun in my face. Not to mention that just about anytime I’ve ever driven the Viper by my self, there was always a young girl or two, convinced that I had a lot of money I didn’t know what to do with, that would always show me their tits, hoping perhaps that I’d motion them to the next rest stop, where they could make me into their new sugar daddy.
I walked towards the caddy, gave my wife a kiss. “You be careful.” She ordered. “No hot-rodding, and don’t pick up any of those girls that show you their tits.” She elbowed me in the ribs playfully as she got in and buckled up.
“Say hi to Granny for me.” I yelled as she backed the car out of the garage.
I pulled the pickup back into the garage, shut the engine off, and wondered how she knew that girls showed me their tits. They’d never done it while she was in the car. I went to the Viper, reached in through the driver’s window, and unclipped the latch holding the top to the windshield. A steady pull towards the back of the beast, and voila, a midlife crisis cure in the making. After securing the top, I slid behind the wheel, inserted the key into the ignition, and turned. She roared to life. All ten cylinders performing a sonata, like musicians in an orchestra. Carefully I backed out of the garage, turned towards the road, and I was off.
As I entered the freeway, my thoughts drifted towards my wife. I’m not going to say that our marriage was perfect. We had our problems like every one else. Ours seemed to revolve around sex. She had surgery about a year ago, and with the none activity of recovery, and the steroids the doctor had prescribed to aid healing. She had gained a few pounds, and her sex drive was gone. Not that it was really anything too erotic in the first place. Sex for my wife was planned to the tee. The towels had to be in place, the candles lit, and everyone had to have a shower. It took me a few years to even get her mouth close to my prick, and even then, she spit and gagged, and made grimacing faces when I came in her mouth. I knew she didn’t enjoy it, but she kept reassuring me that she did. Simply for the fact that I enjoyed it, and she wanted to please me. I think I was the first man that ever suggested performing oral on her, as an overbearing single mom raised her and her sister, and “the sex talk” while growing up consisted of telling her two girls all of the bad things about sex, and how much it would hurt, and it was only meant for conception, all the time spouting off bible versus condemning the act. She wouldn’t let me go down on her at first. I had to do it for the first time with her hands tied with scarves during one of our more risqué sessions. She was pretty much hooked after that.