Chapter 166: Tall drink of water 002

Joyce awkwardly shook her uncle's hand before walking out of the store with her father.

"Congratulations!" Joyce's father said, winking at his brother. "You're now a professional."

Don laughed and watched his brother walk out of the store with his new employee, and as they turned the corner Don rearranged his pants to accommodate the erection he was sporting as a result of seeing little Joyce again.

"Little Joyce?" he said to himself. "Not so little. Behave yourself Don. That's your brother's kid."

***

"Here," Don said as he handed his niece her name tag, although he was sorely tempted to put it on himself. "You better do it."

Don watched Joyce awkwardly attach the tag above the tiny swell of her left breast, and as he looked over his brother's daughter he knew from the start that it was going to be a long hot summer, at least for him.

It wasn't that Joyce was a stunning beauty or anything, far from it. If you were one of those fans of classical beauty, Joyce was not going to be your cup of tea. It was as if the girl had gotten the lesser features of her parents; her father's big nose and her mother's height, but didn't get her father's outgoing personality or her mother's boobs.

Hardly any boobs at all, Don noted, and who knows how much of what was under the t-shirt and bra was flesh, Don mused. Joyce reminded Don of his first love, back 40 years ago. Gail Hopper was her name, and she was almost as androgynous as Joyce was. She was no looker either, but she had been an animal in the sack, and ever though she had been Don's first, she was still the best no matter what she looked like to others.

As Don showed Joyce around the shop, introducing her to the rest of the staff and showing her the various machines, his mind was elsewhere. Was she a virgin? It didn't seem possible that an 18 year old girl could be these days, but his brother said that she wasn't very social.

Nervous beyond belief too, Don noted, and as the day went on it was easy to see that Joyce wasn't going to excel at customer service. She panicked constantly, dropping things and getting flustered, so when it was time for her break he had Joyce join him in his little office.

"You want me to quit?" Joyce said.

"Quit?" Don said. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"I'm no good at this," Joyce said.

"Hey, nothing is easy at first," Don said, putting his hand on Joyce's pale forearm, the skinny limb so white it looked like it never saw the sun, and softly stroked the fine down that graced it. "You just need to relax."

Joyce flinched at first, but Don's hand continued to stroke her furry forearm with his beefy hand, making the down dance between his fingers, and he kept assuring her that she would be okay.

"Hey, you're way ahead of most of the girls. You can make change without the help of the register," Don chuckled. "You should see this place when the power goes out. They're hopeless without the machine telling them what to do."

Don told Joyce that she could help him work the back area, and only come out to wait on people when it got really crowded. Hearing that, it seemed like the weight of the world came off her shoulders.

"There," Don said. "That's more like the Joyce I remember. You're so much prettier when you smile."

Don chuckled as Joyce left, blushing at the compliment. He didn't think that she got told she was pretty very often, because she really wasn't, at least not in the classic sense. Her features were plain, and she did little cosmetically to improve them. Her hair was a mousy brown and was cut in a very ordinary way.

Still, Don thought, there was something about her than gave him a hard-on whenever she was near. That was going to be a challenge now, because they would be working together a lot now.

***

"Working late these days?" Joyce's mother asked when her daughter slipped into the kitchen just past midnight.

"Yeah. Uncle Don has me cashing out all the registers after we close," Joyce said.

"You don't seem to mind your job so much now."

"No, it's not bad," Joyce admitted. "Uncle Don is really nice."

"Meet any boys?" her mother asked.

"No," Joyce said as she headed upstairs to her room.

Locking her bedroom door, Joyce undressed and put on her nightie before going over to her desk and pulling out her diary. For some reason, Joyce had started to make entries in it once again when she started working last week.

If I had a friend - a real friend that I could talk to - I wouldn't have to write this stuff out, Joyce thought as she went to the next blank page, but writing helped.

***

Dear Diary,

That's a dumb thing to write every day, but I do it anyway.

It wasn't very busy tonight, so I got to help Uncle Don do inventory. He's so nice. I know it's weird, but I really wish he wasn't my uncle. He always says nice things to me.

Tonight he asked me if I ever thought about becoming a model. That was freaky on more than one level. If anybody else said that, I would have thought they were being funny, but he seemed to mean it, and said I had the body for it. If he ever saw me without my clothes he would never say that, but it made me tingle to hear it.

If he wasn't my uncle, heck, I don't care that he's three times my age. He's good looking. His bald head is sexy to me, and he's really strong. Also he's taller than me, which is nice.

He's a touchy guy, always touching my arms or patting my back and shoulders. It feels nice when he does that, especially when his hand rubs my forearms, even though I'm so self-conscious about the hair on them. Sometimes I think that he's looking at me, almost like he's checking me out. You know what I mean? Maybe it's my imagination. Probably is. I mean, why would a guy look at me? Goofy desperate kids my age don't even bother.

He told me about how Aunt Kay divorced him, and how lonely he was. I guess that conversation started when he asked me whether any guys have come on to me at work. As if! He told me that I should smile more, and stand up straight. Rats. I thought I was getting better at that.