The Last Incubus Ch 01

The Last Incubus: Chapter 01

Preface and disclosure:

Reader, please be patient with these first few chapters, they are intended to "whet your appetite" and set up the background for the main storyline. I promise more enticing chapters in keeping with traditional Lit. standards will follow.

My eternal gratitude goes to Chris6160 and TwentyNine Snow for their editing skills and constructive comments. They continue to help me a better writer and storyteller.

All characters in the story are all over the age of 18 and are consenting adults. Their names are fictional and any similarity to persons living or otherwise is also coincidental and unintended.

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Chapter 1: My cousin Tina.

"How can a young man keep his way pure?" ~ Psalm 199 v. 9.

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Sunday, November 26th

A blast of frigid air greeted me as I stepped off the bus. This was my first trip to Maine and the sting of the bitter cold against my face seemed a fitting welcome to this God-forsaken place. I pulled up the collar on my coat to keep the wind out and my body heat in. I despised the cold. Winters are the worst, and the idea of spending winter in Maine - well, going to school here was not my idea and definitely not my choice.

"You'll get used to it," Tripp smiled as he watched me pull up my collar. His pearly white teeth stood out against his dark brown skin in the pale light of the bus station.

Growing up on a farm in upstate New York, I was no stranger to cold winters. But at age 20, if I hadn't gotten used to it by now, I probably never would.

I had only met Tripp a few hours ago. He sat next to me on the bus from Boston. This being the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the bus was crowded and the seat next to me was one of the last ones left. We didn't talk to each other at first, which suited me just fine. I had no intention of chatting with the stranger sitting next to me, even though it turned out that we were both the same age. It wasn't until the charge on my phone was down to 10% and I pulled a book out my backpack, that he spotted the University of Maine at Bangor* logo and struck up a conversation. After that, I couldn't shut him up.

It turned out that we had a lot in common. We were both Sophomores taking business classes, although he was interested in financial planning, while I was destined to take business administration courses. He was a wrestler on the University wrestling team, the same sport I had been on at Albany. Tripp spent most of the ride trying to convince me to join the wrestling team at Bangor. The season had already started, but the coach still welcomed new applicants. I wasn't sure I wanted to make that commitment, after all, I hadn't registered for classes yet.

Tripp's real name was Tyrese Cole, but he preferred the nickname "Tripp," from high school. He was from the south Boston area, returning to the Bangor campus after spending the Thanksgiving weekend with his family. He was surprised to hear that I was transferring to Bangor from Albany so late in the year. I didn't give him a lot of information about the reason for the transfer, but he could tell I wasn't very happy about it.

I waited outside while the driver pulled out suitcases from the storage area under the bus. There was a crowd of people waiting their turn as he checked each baggage stub one at a time to be sure that no one took the wrong suitcase. The sun had set over 90 minutes ago, and it took the bus driver a little longer to read the numbers on the ticket stubs in the dark. Since I was one of the first persons to board, my suitcase would be one of the last to be pulled out. Tripp on the other hand, was one of the last ones on the bus, so his duffle bag was one of the first to be retrieved.

"I'll see you in class Ross. Let me know if you want to work out together. I'll be in the weight room every afternoon at 4. I'm sure the coach will let you work out with the team," he said as he headed inside the terminal.

By the time I picked up my suitcase, it was nearly 6 PM. I had been on a bus or in a bus station for over 10 hours. I headed into the bus terminal wondering if my cousin Tina was waiting for me there, or if I had to call her.

I hadn't seen Tina for years. I was only 9, and she was 12. She was a tomboy with copper-red curly hair, and I had a secret crush on her. We played hide-and-seek together and she taught me how to play crazy eights. Once, during a sleepover, she gave me my first kiss-on-the-lips. Come to think of it, I've only kissed a girl twice since then. I wondered if I would even recognize her now.

It took my eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the fluorescent lighting inside the terminal. Being one of the last to get my luggage, there weren't too many people left in the building, most had their backs towards me and were heading out the door. Of the faces looking in my direction, none were topped with red hair.

I dropped my backpack into one of the plastic seats and pulled out my phone to call my cousin. As I was bent over the pack, I heard my name close by.

"Are you Ross? Ross McPherson? I'm your cousin, Tina."

I straightened up and turned.

"Yes, I'm -"

She was stunning, breath-takingly gorgeous. She had those same pale blue eyes I remembered as a kid and her face still had that same smile and dimpled cheeks I loved so much when she was 12. But the rest of her was beyond anything I could recognize - or imagine.

First, she was tall. About two inches taller than me, so I guessed she was about 5 foot 11. Her hair wasn't copper-red and curly. Instead, it was long, straight, and jet-black, the same as mine. Under her open coat, she wore a tight red sweater that showed off her impressive chest over a pair of denim shorts. Her legs were long, smooth, and muscular. Her fleece socks and leather hiking boots completed the outfit. She looked like the kind of girl that would make every guy believe that there is a God.

"Ross! Welcome to Bangor!" She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and planted her lips over mine. Her soft breasts pressed against my chest, and I felt a sudden rush of blood to my groin. Then her lips parted, and I panicked and tightened my mouth reflexively.

She broke the kiss and stepped back, grinning broadly.

"Um, thanks," I replied, shyly.

"I hope you don't kiss your girlfriends that way," she teased. She may look different, but she still teased me just like when we were kids.

"Uh, sorry. I-I've b-been on a bus all day and I'm a little disoriented, that's all," I stuttered.

I shouldn't have been nervous, I mean, after all, she was my cousin, but she had the kind of looks that could turn most guys into a mass of blubbering jelly.

"Oh, that's right! I forgot you were coming in from Albany. How was the trip?"

I couldn't hold back an exhausted sigh. "N-no major problems. It was just long, too long. I spent five hours on the bus from Albany to Boston and then after an hour layover in South Station, an additional four-and-a-half hours on the bus here."

"You must be starved. When was the last time you ate?

"I had a hot dog at South Station in Boston, but I could go for something to eat right about now," I admitted, regaining my composure.

"I know just the place. There's a little diner near campus and not far from where I live. The food is decent and there's not much else open on a Sunday night during a holiday weekend. Here, let me help you with your luggage," she offered, reaching for my backpack.

"I can handle it," I replied, quickly scooping up the backpack and grabbing the handle of my suitcase.

An icy wind whipped through the parking lot as we made our way to her car. I hunched my shoulders as we headed into the wind.

"Aren't you cold? You're wearing nothing under that coat but a sweater and shorts," I called out, staring at Tina's tight butt and bare legs as I followed her to her car.

"You get used to it," she replied over her shoulder, echoing Tripp's words earlier.

"I can't imagine ever getting used to this," I muttered, seeing my breath whisked away by the wind.

We loaded my stuff into Tina's Land Rover. The large, red vehicle looked new and still had lingering traces of that new car plastic smell. We piled into the front seat, and she started the engine, blasting cold air from the heating ducts.

"Despite its size, this warms up pretty fast," she explained.

"Is this new?" I asked.

"Walter bought it for me after I got the job in the Admissions Office."

Walter and Piper were Tina's parents. She had always called them by their first names, even when she was 12. Walter was the CEO of a major international employment company with thousands of employees. Piper was the personal assistant and secretary to the company's owner. They got divorced when Tina was two, which was around the same time they both got their powerful full-time positions. Tina was raised by an elderly lady who worked for the company, her nanny, Mrs. Bainbridge. Maybe that's why she always called her parents by their first names.

"It's nice. It's your favorite color, too, I see."

She smiled, but there was just the fainted hint of wistfulness in that smile. "It's got four-wheel drive and high ground clearance. It's perfect for the amount of snow we get up here."

"Have you ever done any off-roading with it?" I asked.

She looked over at me with a big smile and a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, once or twice."

We pulled into the Blue Ox Diner. It was a classic fifties-style diner complete with silver metal exterior and red vinyl upholstered booths inside, although much of the upholstery was ripped in places and held together with silver duct tape. There was a distinct weathered appearance to the inside décor. The place smelled of hot grease, dirty cooking oil, and fried fish. There were only three other customers in the place: an old guy with a scruffy beard sitting at the counter and a couple of college athletes wearing hockey shirts sitting in the back booth near the rest rooms.

The hockey player facing the door saw us walk in and whistled at Tina.

"Hey Tina! You wanna join us?" he snickered.

"No, Gil. I'm with my cousin tonight," she called back.

"Oh, we don't mind. I'm sure you can handle the three of us," Gil called back.

"That's still a 'no', Gil. You do know what 'no' means, don't you?" she retorted.

"Yeah, we know. But if you change your mind . . ." Gil's voice trailed off as his friend whispered something to him.

Suddenly, the two started laughing lewdly.

Tina took off her jacket and sat down in the booth at the middle of the diner facing the entrance, leaving me facing the hockey jocks and the bathrooms at the back of the diner.

"I hope you don't mind; I'd rather not ruin my meal facing those two."

"Hello, Miss Nicholson," The waitress said quietly, handing Tina a menu.

"Hi, Bailie. We're not in the Admissions Office. You can call me Tina, you know," Tina replied pleasantly.

The waitress turned to hand me a menu. Our eyes met as I reached for the menu, and we both seemed to freeze at the same time. It felt like someone had just pressed life's pause button.

The first thing I noticed were those big, brown, doe eyes. They went well with her brown hair and cute, quiet and intelligent face. She reminded me of the girls back home, nothing flashy, but friendly and strong in unexpected ways. In some way, she seemed complimentary to Tina. Where Tina had an overpowering glamorous beauty, Bailie had more of a down-home, girl-next-door attraction.

She was wearing a light blue striped 1950's style waitress uniform, complete with a white apron and small white hat. The uniform came down to her knees and had various food stains on it, mostly gravy, catsup, and mustard. Her stockings were old and worn with several holes. Her brown hair was no longer held in place by the various bobby pins visible and she looked half-awake as if she was near the end of a long and difficult day. For a waitress, she seemed unusually shy and self-conscious.

After what seemed like several minutes, but was probably only a second or two, Tina broke the silence. "Oh, Bailie, this is my cousin Ross. He just got in after a ten-hour trip from Albany. He's transferring here and will be starting school tomorrow. Ross, this is Bailie. She's also a sophomore."

"Nice to meet you, Bailie. Is that with a 'y' or a double 'e'?" I asked.

"Is what with a 'y' or—Oh, you mean my name. Sorry. It's an 'ie'. I spell Bailie with an 'ie'," she replied, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

"It looks like you've had a long day," Tina remarked.

"Oh, let's just say I can't wait to get back to school again tomorrow," Bailie replied.

"You look as tired as I feel," I said sympathetically.

"Don't say that where Roger can hear you. He's been chewing my head off all day," Bailie replied, nodding her head towards the kitchen. I assumed Roger was the cook.

"What are you in the mood to eat?" Tina asked, looking at me.

"I don't know. What's good here?" I asked.

Bailie bent her head down to our level and spoke in a low voice. "May I suggest the burgers? We ran out of turkey dinners around 1 PM and the meatloaf smells like it's gone bad. Roger's in a nasty mood and burgers are about the only thing I can get him to make."

"Do you still like cheeseburgers?" Tina asked, looking at me.

"Love 'em. How are the fries?" I replied before looking at Bailie.

"Greasy. The cooking oil hasn't been changed in over a week."

"I'll take a cheeseburger and the cole slaw," Tina said, handing Bailie her menu.

"Same here," I agreed, giving up my menu.

"That's stuff has been sitting out all weekend. I wouldn't trust it if I were you. I'll give you each a side of potato chips and a pickle instead. What do you want to drink?" Bailie asked, taking up the menus.

"Plain iced tea," Tina replied.

"Same for me."

"Give me a few minutes," Bailie said, and she turned and headed for the kitchen.

"You seem to know everybody," I remarked to Tina.

"It's one of the perks of working in the Admissions Office. I think I've met just about everybody on campus."

"Those hockey guys were pretty rude, but you seemed to handle them pretty well."

"That's another perk from working in the Admissions Office," she replied.

There was some commotion going on in the kitchen. Apparently, Roger was upset about something, and he was taking it out on Bailie. The yelling lasted for a couple of minutes, during which time the scruffy old man at the counter looked around and quietly left the diner.

"You've changed quite a bit since I last saw you. You're no longer that skinny 9-year-old boy who was so bad at hide-and-seek," Tina said, giving me an approving look.

"Look who's talking. You're gorgeous! I hardly recognized you," I replied.

"Do you like the look?" she asked, smiling. She arched her back, pushing her chest out. That's when I realized from the two added projections sticking out from under her sweater that she wasn't wearing a bra!

My mouth suddenly went dry, and I may have been staring a little too long at the front of her sweater when I replied, "You could be a model."

"Actually, I did do a little modeling. I was in last year's Sport's Illustrated Swimsuit edition."

I tore my eyes away from her chest to look her in the eyes. She was serious, but she also seemed to be enjoying the attention I was giving to her breasts.

"You were? No kidding? What was that like?"

"It was a lot of fun. I met a lot of gorgeous girls and picked up a lot of dates," she replied, giving me a suggestive wink.

The thought of Tina in a revealing bathing suit with a bunch of gorgeous models sent more blood rushing to my groin, helped by the fact that I had been staring at the front of her sweater for the last several minutes. I squirmed in my seat as the swelling in my pants became uncomfortable. Tina noticed the movement and gave me a knowing smile.

"Anything wrong?"

"Oh. Um, well--this seat is a bit hard and lumpy," I fumbled. I felt my face turn red. Hard and lumpy. What a stupid choice of words. It was what was happening to me under the table, not the booth, that was hard and lumpy.

Tina gave me a suspicious smirk. Even that looked sexy. "Your seat is hard and lumpy, huh? Maybe you should sit here with me. This one is quite comfortable," she smiled suggestively.

I panicked. If I stood up now, I would die of embarrassment. "Oh no, it's not necessary. I've adjusted myself—to the bench that is," I flustered.

She glanced down at the table as if she could see the bulge in my lap through its surface. "Let me know if you change your mind," she said a little disappointedly.

"Where was the photo shoot?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"On a private beach in Brazil. You mean you didn't see last year's issue?" Tina seemed surprised.

"No. You know how religious my folks are. They would never approve of anything like that." My parents, Ed and Grace McPherson were farmers and dedicated churchgoers. The idea of a magazine with pictures of beautiful naked or semi-naked women was sacrilegious to them.

"I have extra copies at home. I'll give you one."

The flirty look she gave me only added to the growing problem I was feeling underneath the table. I felt my face turning red as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Um, that's okay. You don't have to do that," I replied, awkwardly.

"Ross, you're blushing! Am I embarrassing you? You don't have to be shy around me," she teased.

"Uh, well . . . I mean it's just that . . ." I stammered.

"Look, we're going to be living together and sooner or later you're going to be curious to see it. We might as well be up front about it." The outline of her nipples seemed to grow when she said that.

"T-That's okay. Really," I stuttered.

She looked a bit deflated. "Modeling was such a great opportunity and a unique experience for me. Are you saying you're not interested?"

"Well, no, I didn't mean that. Do you still have the swimsuit? Maybe you could show it to me," I replied, uneasily.

She burst out laughing.

"Oh, I definitely still have it. I'll model it for you when we get to my place," she replied, giving me a wink.

"Oh, no. I didn't mean—"

Bailie suddenly appeared. "Here are your iced teas. It will be a few more minutes for the cheeseburgers." She placed the glasses on the table, then turned and looked at the counter.

"Did anyone see where that old guy at the counter went?" she asked.

"He left a few minutes ago," I recalled.

"Oh, crap! He stiffed me," Bailie lamented.

"Hey Mousey! Come over here. We'll give you a couple of stiff tips," Gil guffawed. The jock sitting across from him quickly joined in.

"Oh, gross. I get stiffed and I have to deal with those guys too," Bailie muttered under her breath.

"That wasn't your fault. He must have ducked out while Roger was yelling," I sympathized.

"That doesn't matter. It's still going to come out of my pay," she complained as she went back to the kitchen.

Tina leaned across the table.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of her,"

she whispered.

In the back of the diner, the jock sitting with his back towards me passed a small flask-bottle to the guy named Gil.

"I think those guys are drinking back there,"

I whispered back.

"That wouldn't surprise me, they've been in trouble before. Just keep your distance," she said emphatically.

"Here are your burgers. There's catsup on the table and I'm leaving you some extra mustard and extra napkins. Can I get you anything else?" Bailie asked, placing the cheeseburgers in front of us along with a bottle of yellow mustard.

"No, that will be fine," Tina smiled, looking up at Bailie.

Bailie took a deep breath and turned towards the back of the diner. She took a slip of paper out of her apron and looked at it before placing it on the jocks' table.