Seductive Taeover

Author's Disclaimer: All characters depicted are over 18, etc., etc. Enjoy!

=====================

"Please, Claire," my sister's voice on the phone was pitiful, pleading. "Just for a few months. A year at the absolute most."

"A year?!" I spat.

"Six months!" she corrected. Yeah, right. "I just need to get her away from this crowd she's running around with before..." Jennifer's voice trailed off.

"Before what?" I prodded.

"Before...before she does something she'll regret!" my sister growled.

There was more to her fears, but, for whatever reason, she didn't want to express them to me. Desperation hung in the air. My sister was not one to just throw her problems onto others, and she had never asked me for help, for anything, even when we were growing up. She was prideful and competitive. To be brought to a point where she would reach out like this, she must truly be at the end of her rope.

"Alright," I finally conceded. "Fine. What did you have in mind?"

"I...don't know. Can you get her a job with your company? Something where you can keep an eye on her?" she asked, hope seeping into her tone.

"Look, Jen, I'm not going to be her babysitter. She's a grown-ass woman, for Pete's sake."

"No, no, not like that! Not a babysitter, a mentor," she pivoted hurriedly. "She needs someone to show her how...how to..."

How to not be an asshole, I was thinking but didn't express out loud. I hadn't seen my niece in several years for more than a couple of minutes at a time at family events. She always managed to remove herself by coming up with some excuse or another and not in a 'please excuse me, I need to go' sort of way. More often, it was in a 'this is f***ing stupid, I'm leaving' sort of way.

She and her father, my sister's second husband, had an especially caustic relationship from what little I had observed. He insisted that she be polite, and she insisted that he do something physically impossible with his genitals.

"She needs someone to smack a little reality into her," my sister finally finished her thought. "And she won't listen to me; I'm '

not her real mom

'," she finished in a mocking imitation of Angel's voice.

"I hear that's a common issue," I tried to point out.

"Yeah, maybe that's part of the problem, but she needs to get over it."

I could sense my sister ramping up to a long gripe session and I wasn't in the mood to empathize. I was already mentally planning out the logistics of housing another person in my modest apartment and if I could even get my niece an internship, much less a paid position.

"I really didn't mean to open that can of worms," I interrupted. "Give me a few days to come up with something and I'll get back to you."

"Thank you, sis, really," Jennifer said. "I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

No, she wouldn't, but I wasn't doing this expecting recompense. I was doing this because my sister needed me, and I couldn't just ignore her.

===========

A week later, I texted Jennifer.

Me:

Hey Jen

I arranged for Angel to get an internship in my department

In actuality, I had to create the position and use a portion of my department's overhead funds.

Me:

She will get a small salary but no benefits

Jennifer:

Thank you!!!

When does she start?

Me:

Whenever you can get her here

No rush

===========

Three days later, I was picking up my niece from the airport. Tickets on such short notice must have been horrendously expensive, but it wasn't my money. I walked into the baggage claim area and was looking for Angel's flight on the arrivals board when a woman who looked suspiciously like my niece popped in front of me.

"Aunt Claire!" she beamed, holding out her arms.

The last time I saw Angel, she was still a teenager. At the time, she was sporting long brown hair almost to her waist with a pink bow on the top and wearing a matching form-hugging minidress. The woman before me had darkly lined eyes with a pixie cut. I recognized her natural dark brown color in the back and sides, but that morphed gradually with silver highlights into a completely white swoop of hair that hung from left to right, partially obscuring one eyebrow. Where the pink minidress had once been, she wore a ripped Guns N' Roses t-shirt, like she knew who Guns N' Roses were, underneath a biker jacket. Not a woman's cut jacket either, it was a man's jacket with unidentifiable stains and patches I didn't take the time to make out. Looking down, she wore nice black boots and what used to be jeans. I was sure that there was more material missing from those pants than was still left behind.

"Angel?" I posited.

"It's Nyx now, actually," she stated but came in for a hug anyway.

In a bit of shock, I accepted the embrace and returned it more out of politeness than familial recognition. When we separated, I was at a loss for words and fell back on comfortable patterns without completely considering what I was going to say.

"Wow, you look..." My lack of planning quickly came back to bite me, and I couldn't think of how to end that sentence in a way that was truthful while not being insulting.

"Fucking amazing!" Angel, no, Nyx, finished for me. "That's what you were going to say, right?"

She was teasing me, but it brought out a nervous grin despite her cursing.

"Exactly," I played along. "You definitely have...changed your style," I commented.

"Hell yeah! As soon as I turned eighteen, my parents could no longer dictate my fucking life," she continued, "I finally got to figure out what I wanted to wear, how I wanted to look!"

I noticed that she called it her 'dad's house' not even acknowledging her stepmother's contribution.

"And this is what you chose?" I cringed even as the words left my mouth.

She laughed and stepped back, putting a hand to her chest.

"Ouch!" Nyx looked pained but smiled, nonetheless.

"N..no, sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I tried to recover.

"It's okay. Really. I know I'm not what you were expecting, right?" she let me off the hook. "You look...exactly the same," she noted, giving me an appraising scan.

"Is that good or bad?" I asked, scrunching my eyebrows.

At thirty-five, I was teetering between still having a youthful appearance and showing lines that no cream or concealer could completely fill in. I was in decent shape but was starting to lose that battle. No matter how successfully I hid it, I saw the little bulges and flaws whenever I looked in a mirror.

"That's great," my niece beamed. "You always look - amazing!"

Something about the way she said that made me blush. Maybe it was the slight pause before 'amazing' or the way her eyes seemed to scan me as she spoke. For whatever reason, I felt uneasy but in a pleasant way. I don't often get compliments from attractive younger women, and I guess it went to my head even if that woman was my niece.

"Okay, what are you angling for?" I asked skeptically.

"Angling?" Nyx looked hurt. "You know you have always been my favorite Aunt."

"I'm your only Aunt," I pointed out.

"Really?" she answered like this was new information.

We'd always had a playful relationship. Even fifteen years her senior, I was still the closest relative to her age at any of the usual family gatherings. It resulted in her hanging around me more than anyone else. She had grown up so much over the last few years, however, that it felt a little strained jumping back into that dynamic.

I don't mean that she had grown up that much physically. She had grown into her adult body years ago. What I am referring to was how she carried herself. The somewhat hesitant, awkward girl had morphed into a confident and poised woman. She still dressed like she was going to a rock concert, but it felt like she was more comfortable in her skin, if that makes any sense.

At least she seemed in a good mood, a far cry from the attitude I had witnessed so often in the presence of her parents. I didn't want to have that version of Angel, uhg, Nyx, living with me and was determined not to make whatever mistake my sister or, more likely, my step-brother had made.

I smiled at her jesting response and gave her one raised eyebrow.

"Come on, you," I said as I looked around for her luggage. "Where are your bags?"

"Right here," Nyx replied, stepping to the side to reveal a large duffle bag on the floor behind her.

"That's all?"

"These are the only clothes I wanted to bring," she shrugged and slung the bag onto her bag. "Lead on, Jeeves!"

I ignored the quip of me being her driver because it wasn't totally inaccurate. I gave her an incredulous look, nonetheless.

===========

No sooner were we on the road heading toward my apartment when I found out just how thoroughly my sister had screwed me.

"So tell me about this job you found? Mom says it is perfect for me." Nyx asked.

Perfect for her?! It was technically an internship with a below-minimum wage stipend. I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated. What was I supposed to tell her?

"Y..your mom might have...oversold it a bit," I finally admitted.

My niece's face fell and she turned to stare at me. I couldn't really look at her and drive, but I could feel the temperature of our warm interchange suddenly drop precipitously.

"What do you mean? How oversold?" she demanded.

"Keep in mind, this was not my idea," I tried to preempt the vitreal at least toward me. "Your mother begged me to set something up, so I did the best I could."

Nyx's expression went colder.

"She's not my mother." There wasn't anger in her words, it was merely a statement like the answer to some argument.

"As far as she's concerned, you're her daughter, so she asked for my help," I countered.

"I'm sure she did but it wasn't for me."

"What do you mean? Of course it was for you," I insisted.

Nyx just snorted and turned away, shaking her head. I felt horrible, but I wasn't even done giving her the bad news. I could see where this was headed and tried to soften the blow.

"Look, I know this seems...bad, but think of it as a new start," I channeled my inner cheerleader. "New city, new job, new you! You said you wanted to plot your own course. Well, this is your chance!"

Her eyes moved back toward me and her head slowly followed. I took that as a good sign.

"Okay," she said with resignation, "tell me about this job."

I hesitantly gave her the details. She'd be working for me as a management intern. That amounted to doing whatever I needed and, ostensibly, learning how to do my job.

"And the pay is what?" she asked, her frustration rising again.

I told her. There was a pause as she did the math and I braced myself for the inevitable.

"That's less than half minimum wage!" she yelled. "Why didn't you just open with how I'm gonna be your fucking slave?!"

"Well, you're living with...," I tried, but she wasn't listening.

"How am I supposed to afford my own apartment, or even just save up for a security deposit much less a fucking car?!"

"Language!" I tried to cut her off, but her tirade was in full swing.

"Fucking hell!" Nyx spat and paused, looking out the passenger window again, her hands balled into fists.

I just scrunched down in my seat and focused on the road.

"They just wanted me out of the house!" she stated, shaking her head. "And I fucking fell for it."

I waited to see if there was more.

"Now I'm stuck in this fucking city with no fucking way home!"

"Language!" I repeated, finally getting her to look back at me with a look of disgust.

"My life is fucking ruined and you're worried about my fucking language?" Nyx hissed.

I considered my response carefully.

"I was just hoping for a little more variety. That word is getting fucking old," I said deadpan.

There was a long silence where the only sound was the tires against the road, and then Nyx's shoulders started shaking. I couldn't tell if she was crying or laughing from the closed-lip heaves until she opened her mouth and her head tilted back.

"Oh, my god!" she snorted a laugh. "I'm still mad at you." Nyx looked over at me, but her ire had lost some of its sharpness.

"

I

never lied to you," I pointed out. "And I had nothing to do with whatever your mom told you. I'm...really sorry this was forced on you. I wouldn't have gone along with it. But now you're here, so let's make the best of it. I promise I will do whatever I can to help to get you on your feet and independent."

I know it was cowardly to deflect, but Jennifer had thrown me under the bus first; it was only fair that I return the favor. Nyx looked sidelong at me but didn't respond. I got the impression that it would take more than that to mend fences.

The rest of the journey was quiet. I didn't know what to say and Nyx was still simmering. At least she wasn't yelling anymore. I couldn't imagine what she must have been feeling at that moment, but I was pretty sure it was in the anger family.

We arrived at my apartment and pulled into a spot in the parking garage attached to my building. I lived very near the downtown area to be close to work, walking distance, actually, but that meant that parking was at a premium. Having a place with attached parking was a luxury. Apparently, Nyx wasn't of the same mindset. I heard her mumble, 'Oh, god' as we got out.

A short walk and an elevator ride later, I was opening the door to my one-bedroom apartment. Yes, one bedroom.

"So, let me give you the tour," I said cheerily.

"This is it?" my niece quipped derisively. "I think I've already gotten the tour."

I ignored the jab and started my spiel anyway.

"This is the kitchen," I swept my arm to the small kitchen just inside the door to the left.

Two people could stand in it, but probably not both be cooking. A peninsula counter separated the kitchen from the living room. I edged around it to walk into the main living area.

"Here is the living room," I gestured to the large room in front of us. Nyx still stood motionless in the small entryway. "This closet here will be yours." I stepped over to a door that led to the small area walled off just to the right of the entryway.

"That's the coat closet," Nyx noted as she took a step and peered around as I opened the door.

"No," I insisted, "that is your closet. Coats go on the coat rack."

I pointed to the brand-new wooden coat rack crammed into another corner of the room.

"Right," she replied flatly.

"Over here," I plowed on, gesturing to the small hall barely longer than a door's width with a full-length mirror at the end, "is the bathroom on the left and my bedroom on the right.

Nyx walked to the bathroom door and opened it. There was a tub with a shower, a toilet, and a small vanity, but it was clearly a one-person room. Then she opened the door to my bedroom. The way she just barged in felt a little like she was invading my privacy but I needed to let that go. The room went back as far as the living room did but was not as wide. Still, I had the space for a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand.

"Oh, the laundry is in the closet on the left," I called.

I heard the folding doors open and then close. A second later, she was returning.

"And where's...," she stopped as her eyes saw the partition at the other end of the living room. "You've got to be kidding me," she said under her breath while striding with purpose to the other end of the room.

I had sectioned off one end of the living room with standing curtains and put a cot in the corner. Nyx's face dropped as she took in the arrangement.

"No...no, no, no," my niece stated and looked at me. "Aunt Claire, I...," her face was turning red. "I need a drink," she finally stated.

"What?" I exclaimed, taken aback. "You're twenty, you can't drink."

She was ignoring me and pulling out her phone.

"Like hell, I can't." Her fingers flew over the device, and she quickly found what she was looking for. "There's a bar less than a block away. The One Night Stand. How appropriate," she snorted and started walking toward the door.

"You can't," I exclaimed, my mind searching for why. "That's a really bad bar!"

"What? Their potato skins suck? I don't give a shit!"

"You're only twenty, they're not going to let you in," I pointed out, quite pleased with myself for remembering that.

Nyx reached for her bag where she had dropped it and pulled out a billfold.

"I'm three months from my birthday and, besides, this ID says I'm twenty-two," she shot back, holding up what must be a fake driver's license, but it looked real enough to me.

"What are you going to pay for drinks with?" I said, quickly trying to come up with any excuse but not really thinking it through.

The girl cocked her head and looked at me.

"Do you really think it will take me more than thirty seconds to have someone buy me a drink?"

A cold chill ran through me thinking about some guy picking her up. She could end up at his place just so she wouldn't have to stay here and no telling what would happen next.

She turned and opened the door with me rushing after her.

"Fine, let's get a drink," I said, stepping into the hall and locking the door behind us.

"I don't need a babysitter, Aunt Claire," Nyx huffed.

"Apparently, you do," I stated as we started down the hall. "Going to a strange bar in a strange city to pick up strange men? That's not what a mature young woman would do."

She paused in her strides putting me a step ahead before I turned to see a look of steel. Her eyes shot through me, but she said nothing. Instead, she just started walking again and stabbed the call button for the elevator.

We didn't speak after that for the few minutes it took to reach the bar. My plan was to let a little alcohol soften her edges and let her vent if that was what she needed. All while keeping the lecherous men away from my niece.

As soon as we stepped into the place, the smell of hops and liquor hit me. Other than the lights over the bar, the only illumination was from the myriad of neon signs advertising any manner of adult beverages. The place was surprisingly full, although I didn't really have anything to judge that on, I realized; I had never been in here despite its proximity to my apartment.

There were still a couple of tables unoccupied by either people or hordes of beer bottles, so we weaved our way to the closest one and sat down. I looked around and noted a distinct preference for men over women around us. Several of those men were looking in our direction. Inadvertently, I made eye contact with a couple of them as I swept the room, but it was just momentarily, nothing that could be construed as interest.

I only saw one waitress servicing the whole place and she was hustling. Nevertheless, she managed to be playful with tables of people she seemed to know. Regulars, I suspected. My niece must have seen me watching her.

"She's cute," Nyx leaned close to be heard over the din of talking and laughing.

"Um, I guess so," I replied, taking in the woman's form for the first time.

She had shoulder-length brown hair pulled into a ponytail and a t-shirt tied with a knot at her back to emphasize her breasts and expose her flat tummy. The jean shorts were of average length but quite tight, with her rear filling them out nicely.

Then I caught myself. Why was I looking at her like that? I was objectifying her and suddenly felt icky. Forcing my gaze away, I looked back at my companion who still had her eyes locked onto the waitress's ass.

"Stop it!" I hissed.

"What?" Nyx said, tearing her own eyes back to look at me quizzically. "Why do you think she's dressed like that? For the tips! She wants to be looked at."

"She doesn't want to be ogled!" I retorted.

"How do you know?"

How do I know? While I was trying to wrap my head around that question, Nyx continued.