***
Author's Note
This is my first attempt at writing an incest story. All feedback is encouraged and welcome. Let my know if you think I overdid it with the sex scene.
As always, all character engaging in sexual activities are 18 and over. Hope you enjoy.
Approx. 10k words.
***
Ever had the feeling that someone was watching you?
It wasn't a very nice feeling. But, on a Friday morning in Manhattan, with a sea of people moving in all directions, it wasn't a very realistic one either.
Furthermore, this city was home to plenty of interesting people; the rich, the famous, and the infamous. It made no sense for a would-be stalker to waste their time on me, a high school drop-out with an illustrious career as a 7-Eleven cashier. I knew that, but I still found myself scanning the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was causing this uneasy feeling.
Was it the slow-moving black sedan to my left with the tinted windows? Or was it the man to my right, talking into his phone as he watched me walk by? Or maybe it was the woman in front of me who'd just looked back over her shoulder for the fifth time. No, maybe not. She could have been looking at anyone in this mass of bodies. Maybe even someone behind me.
Wait... Was there someone behind me?
I stopped dead in my tracks and abruptly turned, trying to catch my pursuer off guard. But there was no one there. At least not anyone that stood out. All I saw were the annoyed faces of New Yorkers as they maneuvered around the asshole stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.
"I'm going insane," I said to myself. "I'm going insane. I'm going insane. I'm going completely insane."
I repeated those words to myself like a mantra as I started walking again. I was trying to calm myself down and come back to reality, but I should have been paying more attention to where I was going
"Oh!" I heard someone say in surprise as I walked right into them.
It was a pretty solid collision. Hard enough to throw both of us off balance. The person grabbed onto me to steady themselves, giving me an awkward hug which I reflexively returned.
It was then that I realized I'd bumped into a woman. The sudden feeling of a slender body in my arms and soft breasts pushing into my chest sent my blood running south of the border. I tried to pull away from her, not wanting to catch a sexual assault charge so early in the morning, but she held on to me.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said. "Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah," I said. "Sorry about tha..."
I didn't manage to finish the sentence. Whatever I had intended to say flew out of my head when I looked at the woman standing in front of me.
But it wasn't right to call her a woman. She looked too youthful for that; maybe a year or two shy of twenty-one if I had to guess. She was tall for a girl though, probably an inch or two shorter than my 5'11", and so breathtaking it felt like an insult to merely call her 'attractive'.
Her long dark hair, tied back in a ponytail, was so impossibly black that the contrast made her pale unblemished skin look like polished ivory. She had a face that was meant for magazine covers and, from what I could feel, a body meant for centerfolds. A real high-class model if I ever saw one.
But despite all that, it was her eyes that held most of my attention. Captivating grey eyes that pinned me in place. I was so momentarily lost in them that I almost didn't notice her hands drifting down to my hips.
"S-sorry," I repeated, self-conscious about talking to such a beautiful girl. "That was my fault."
"Mine too," she said with a laugh and a smile. "I'm so clumsy. I've been bumping into people all morning. Good thing God gave me airbags, huh?"
"Airbags?" I said with a frown.
Then the strange girl pushed her tits into my chest.
"Yeah," she said with a wink. "Airbags."
"...Oh...Right," I said as a sudden realization hit me.
I had been right about her being 'high class', but I was completely wrong about her 'profession.' A model would never spend this much time on a random guy, and when I took into consideration her flirty attitude, and the way hands were resting on my butt, there was only one thing this girl could be.
"Listen," I said, "I'm sorry, but I just work at 7-Eleven and I'm short on rent as it is. I don't really think I can afford your...uh... 'services.'"
As soon as those words left my mouth, I regretted them. The smile on the girl's face disappeared. Her eyebrows knitted together into a frown and her mouth fell open like she was mortified.
"You think I'm a hooker?" she said in disbelief.
"I'm... I mean, no! I... I just thought-" I stuttered.
"You think I'm a hooker," she repeated. This time it wasn't a question.
I stood there staring at her like a deer caught in headlights. All I wanted to do was get away from the situation. But just as I was about to make a run for it, the girl squeezed my ass before bursting out into a fit of laughter.
She released me and doubled over with her arms around her stomach, howling like it was the funniest thing in the world.
"He thinks I'm a hooker!" she said as she laughed gleefully, drawing the attention of the other pedestrians.
I didn't have to wonder if I was being watched anymore. Thanks to this girl, all eyes were definitely on me. But now that I was free, there was no reason for me to stick around. I offered her another hasty apology before leaving, but I don't think she heard me.
"Oh my god! A fucking hooker!" I heard her laugh as I pushed through the crowd. "Just wait till I tell mom about this!"
***
"You called her a hooker?!" my friend Sam said, giving me the same look of disbelief as the girl from earlier. "Real smooth, Nathan. I know exactly who I'm coming to next time I need advice on picking up women."
"Fuck you, Sam," I said as I went back to stocking the shelves. "And I didn't call her a hooker. She said that by herself."
"Oh, right. My mistake. You just turned down her
'services.'
" he said, laughing almost as hard as the girl had.
I should have known better than to tell him. Sam was a good friend, but he would never miss a chance to have a laugh at my expense. I'm usually careful about giving him ammunition, but I guess I let my guard down since this was the first time I'd seen him since he got back from holiday. He was likely to go on like this for the rest of the shift if I didn't stop him, so I changed the subject to the thing that happened to me right after he left.
"Hey, Sam," I said after his laughter died down. "I think someone has been following me or something."
"You mean like a stalker?" he said. "You sure it's not the hooker? I hear working girls can be really persistent."
"Sam, I'm serious," I said. "I'm telling you, shit got real weird for me right after you went on holiday."
"Awww," he said. "Did you miss me, buddy? Sorry, I don't swing that way. But I'm flattered. Really I am."
"Okay, you know what? If you're gonna be like that you can do this shit by yourself," I said as I got up to go back to the register.
"Okay! Okay! I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, laughing as he pulled me back by my wrist. "Look, just start from the beginning. Why do you think someone's following you?"
I gave him a dirty look as I resumed stocking the shelves. Sam clearly wasn't taking me seriously, but maybe he would change his tune once I explained everything to him.
"Okay, look," I began. "This all started about a day or two after you left. My landlord stopped me outside of my apartment. He told me that some strange woman had called him. He said that she was asking for me by name and wanted to know which apartment I stayed in."
"What's so bad about that?" he asked.
"Well, when he tried to get her to tell him who she was, she just hung up on him."
Sam's eyebrow went up. "Yeah... Yeah, okay. I have to admit, that's kinda creepy."
"Oh, it gets better, man," I said, oddly excited. I guess having someone agree with me made my paranoia feel a little more justified. "A day or two later I got a phone call from a private number. When I answered it there was this guy I didn't know on the other end.
"He was like,
'Are you Nathan Baker?'
Didn't even say
'Hello'
, just asked me for my name right away. So I said,
'Yeah, this is Nathan. Who are you?'
But he straight up ignored me and asked me to help him verify some information."
"Like what?" he said, so drawn in by my story that he stopped working.
"Shit like
'Did you grow up in the Ohel Children's Home?' 'Did you go to Valley Stream South High School?' 'Did you drop out in the eleventh grade?'
"
"Woah, woah," Sam said. "That's kinda specific, isn't it?"
"Dude, that's just the tip of the iceberg," I said. "This guy knew things I've never told anyone. Like exactly how many times I ran away from home. How old I was when CPS took me away from my parents and why. He even knew things I only told the therapist they made me talk to."
"Uh... Nathan... I'm pretty sure there were a couple of overshares in there just now."
"Yeah, maybe. But I'm way more comfortable saying these things to you than I am with hearing them, over the phone, from some random guy with a blocked number."
"...Good point," Sam said after a moment. "So, what happened next?"
"Well, I started freaking out. I asked him who he was and how he got my fucking number. But he didn't say anything. He just hung up."
A low whistle escaped Sam's lips.
"Okaaay... Sorry for joking around earlier. I'd probably be shittin' bricks too if I were you. So, did he ever call back?"
"Nah," I said. "Never got any more calls after that one. But I did start to notice other things. Like cars parked outside my apartment that I didn't recognize. Or people looking at me a little bit longer than they needed to. Weird shit like that."
Sam gave me a funny look before sighing and going back to work.
"See, I was with you in the beginning, Nathan. But now you really do sound paranoid. Just because you don't recognize the cars outside your apartment doesn't mean they're there for you; maybe they just parked there because their usual spot was taken."
It was a good point. In fact, it was something I'd considered myself, but I guess I needed to hear someone else say it.
"And the people staring at you?" he said with a sigh. "Man, we really need to do something about your self-esteem. You're a bit of a looker. You know that right?. You shouldn't be surprised if you get a little extra attention now and then."
"Yeah," I said, feeling a little foolish. "Yeah, maybe you're right."
As soon as I said that Sam punched me in the shoulder.
"Narcissistic son of a bitch," he said. "You could at least
pretend
to argue with me on the second one. Hey, I got an idea. Why don't you get some contacts? Maybe you wouldn't have so many secret admirers if you covered up those green eyes of yours, you pretty motherfucker."
