6. My bratty niece, who hates her part-time job, tries to get money out of me but gets a lewd surprise

My bratty niece, who hates her part-time job, tries to get money out of me but gets a lewd surprise

There are eight years between me and my older sister. Even so, we have ended up being quite close. Part of this is that our parents were both quite successful in business and ended up leaving us with our grandmother for much of our childhoods while they traveled for work.

Later, after my older sister had graduated university and married, I ended up spending a lot of time at my sister’s place to give my grandmother a break from looking after me. After our grandmother passed away while I was in university, I still preferred to visit with my older sister rather than stay alone in the empty house that my parents left when they traveled.

After I graduated high school my parents decided to retire to Hawaii so my only other family left in Japan was my older sister. Thankfully I got on well with her husband as well. When I was just starting high school, my sister had her first and only child. Emi was a cute baby, and because she was an only child she was spoiled by all of us. My sister didn’t want to have any more children, so as Emi grew up she got everything she wanted. Despite this, she wasn’t spoiled as you would think, although once she hit that difficult phase in junior high school, she began to argue with my older sister. By the time she had started senior high school there were major problems.

“I don’t know how to get her to understand,” my sister had said to me. “We all get a new smartphone every three years, but because her friend has the newest one it’s a major problem. We took a family holiday to Okinawa but because her friend’s family went to Guam, she spent the whole time at the beach in Okinawa complaining.” My sister and her husband both worked hard, and did have a nice house and two cars, but they were also quite careful and reasonable with their money. “Emi just thinks that money is free.”

“Maybe she should get a part-time job,” I had suggested. “Mom and Dad made us do that, and it was a big reveal to both of us when they started making us pay for things from our own money.” I was now a few years out of university, working in a property development company as a sub-manager and doing well, but I still remembered the shock when I had to start paying for my own free-time and entertainment as a teenager. For example, you became a lot more considerate about seeing a movie when you realized it took five hours of work to pay for it.

“Maybe,” my sister said. Emi was quite book smart, although a little naive at times, and she went to a very high-end escalator school that she had got into from junior high school based on her marks. Even though my sister and her husband made good money, they couldn’t have afforded the tuition without Emi’s academic scholarship. “I’ll have to check with the school what their policy is - I’m pretty sure it’s not common for students there to work.”

It turned out that, as long as Emi’s grades didn’t suffer, the school didn’t have a problem with her working. Emi, on the other hand, was not as happy about the idea. Her parents held firm that they would pay her commuter ticket to school, but if she wanted to buy lunch or go shopping or hang out with friends after school, that would be her responsibility. The big shock to her was when they told her that after the next month, she would be responsible for her own cell phone bill.

“But I need my phone,” she had argued. “What if there’s an emergency and I need to call you?”

“We’ll buy you a phone card,” my sister said. “There’s always a payphone around. Or you can go to a police box if it’s an emergency.”

“What if you need to call me? If I’m out?” she said with a smug smile, thinking she had won the argument.

“If you don’t have money to pay for your cell phone, you won’t have money to afford to go out anywhere. So you’ll either be at school or here at home,” her father had replied. “And we have the school’s number.” An airtight argument (he was a lawyer, after all).

So Emi had tried to get a part-time job. It turns out that when you are a first-year senior high school student with good grades but no driver’s license, there aren’t many options other than working in a supermarket, a convenience store or working in fast food.

Emi’s first job was working in a convenience store. That lasted just over a week, until she was asked to clean out the customer restroom after someone had an unfortunate incident where they hadn’t made the toilet during an emergency. She refused to do it and quit on the spot.

Her second job was working in a gyoza restaurant as a service staff and dishwasher. She had quit after the first shift, when she realized how much showering it took to get the smell of frying oil and garlic out of her hair, and how much scrubbing it took to clean under her nails.

Her third job was over within two hours. She had accepted a position working in a retirement center. She didn’t have to clean or take residents to the toilet (she had confirmed that), and she didn’t have to wash dishes or work in the kitchen (she had checked that too), and she had asked very specific questions that covered every other horror she could think of during her application interview. Her job was to simply assist residents by making their sunset days a little more enjoyable - fetching, carrying, pushing the food tray cart, and that sort of thing. It turned out that, for some of the older male residents, despite the flesh being weak, the spirit was very willing; within the first two hours of her first shift, three of those elderly gentlemen had commented on Emi’s youth and beauty (which she had appreciated) and made suggestions as to how she might make their afternoons a little more enjoyable (which she had most definitely not appreciated).

I was at my sister’s place in the living room when Emi walked in in a huff, just after quitting this latest job. My sister still invited me over to dinner a few times a week. She used to nag that it was because she felt responsible for ensuring that I was eating something with vegetables in it at least once every couple of days, but we both knew it was because despite our unusual upbringing, family was important to both of us. I had my own key and I was sitting in the living room, reading the paper.

“How goes the new job?” I asked when Emi came in. She’d changed back into her school uniform after quitting at the retirement center.

“Don’t even get me started!” Emi seethed.

“Hey,” I said, coolly. “I just asked how things were. I don’t expect to have fire breathed in my face.” She dropped her bag on the floor. Well, actually she threw it down.

“This was supposed to be an easy job!”

“What happened?”

She screeched in frustration.

“I was in the common area where they were watching some stupid ancient TV drama, and one of the old guys asked me to help pick his slippers up so he could put them on. I bent over to get them and he and his dirty old man friends were looking up my skirt!”

“Ah. That’s all?”

“That’s all?! That’s not part of the job!”

“Did they try to grab you or anything?”

“No. But right after I realized what they were doing I complained to the supervisor and she just shrugged and said that if that’s what gave them a thrill, what was the harm?”

“Well, that’s a little old-fashioned but I suppose it goes with the job.”

“Not anymore. I quit.”

“Already?”

She collapsed onto the sofa.

“Yup. I’m done with that place.”

“Your mother and father won’t like that.”

“Well, they can’t expect me to work in a place like that.”

“Emi, you have to start somewhere.”

She huffed in frustration.

“That’s exactly what my parents say.”

“It’s true. My first part-time job was shoveling gravel for a road crew.”

“Yuck. But you’re a boy, so that’s okay for you.”

“Well, if you don’t want to clean, work in a restaurant, or work a pretty easy job like the one you just quit, I don’t know what you can do.” Actually I did, but I wasn’t going to make that joke to my sixteen year old niece. She sat back on the sofa and sighed at the ceiling.

“I was going to just make them give up and let me have an allowance, but I don’t think they’ll cave.”

I knew my sister and her husband. They absolutely wouldn’t. She sighed again and fished her phone out.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I said, nodding to her and her phone. “You have, what, two weeks left before you have to pay for it yourself?”

“Don’t remind me,” she moaned. She played with her phone for a moment, then looked over at me. “Hey, uncle...”

“Yes?”

“Would you give me some money? Your favorite niece?”

“You’re my only niece.”

“Then I’m a precious commodity,” she said, airily. “High demand and low availability increases demand. We learned that in economics class.”

“But you don’t have low availability. Especially since you aren’t working and can’t afford to go anywhere. I’ll be able to see you anytime I want.” I went back to my paper.

“You suck,” she pouted. She pulled her feet up onto the sofa and went back to her phone. After a few minutes I peered over the top of my paper. She was sitting with her heels against her butt. Her skirt had fallen aside a little and I could see the lightness of her underwear. I should mention that Emi was a pretty girl. Despite her bratty attitude, she still carried herself well. Because of her school, she couldn’t color her hair and even on the weekends she didn’t really wear makeup. I couldn’t blame those old guys for wanting to check her out. If she wasn’t my niece, I thought...

Her legs shifted a little and her skirt fell back more. I could see clearly her panties between her thighs now, a little puffy mountain pushing out. I looked up and she was looking at me, watching me peek at her. I casually went back to my paper, as though I had just been looking across the room at the clock and not at her display.

“Hey, uncle...” she said, this time a little sing-song. I lowered my paper.

“Yes?”

“What if I let you look at me? For money?”

“What?”

“I saw you. You were looking at my panties.”

“I was checking the time.”

“Sure you were.”

I grunted and picked my paper up. After a few minutes she started talking again.

“How about five thousand yen for a really good look?” she asked.

“What?”

“Seriously,” she said, coming over and sitting next to me. “Look.” She held up her phone. “This is some skanky club in Shinjuku where people pay five thousand yen to sit on the other side of a two-way mirror and look up women’s skirts for twenty-five minutes. And they dress as high school girls. Surely it’s worth that much to look at my knickers. And I’m a real high school girl.”

I scoffed and picked up my paper again.

“Uncle, I’m serious. Well ... I mean, I don’t know those old men and they are kind of gross. But I don’t mind you looking. If you pay me.”

“Not interested,” I said from behind my paper. I had a few more minutes of peace before she started up again.

“But uncle...” she whined. I sighed and put my paper down, turning to her. I was prepared to give her a good telling off. Instead, she was lying back against the sofa with her legs pulled back into the M-shape, openly showing me her light yellow panties. They were pulled back tight against her pussy, and I could see the shadow of her cleft in the middle of the fabric. My mouth went dry, the words I had been preparing to say dissolved.

“Oh,” she giggled. “I guess you are interested after all.” She hesitated a moment, giving me another few seconds to take in the view before she flipped her skirt forward and sat up on her knees. “That’s the sample. If you want to look more, you’ll have to pay.” She looked at me expectantly. I swallowed. She really shouldn’t have tried to start this game with me.

“Uh, okay.”

Her eyes went wide.

“What?”

“Okay. I’ll pay you if you show me. But not five thousand for a panty shot. You remember your economics class, right? You have to compete against the open market. I bet I could find other high school girls I’m not related to who would show me their knickers for less.”

“But I thought...”

“Two thousand,” I said.

“Two? No. Five,” she replied.”

“Two.” I crossed my arms. “Buyer’s market.” She pursed her lips. She was actually considering it!

“Four!” she blurted.

“No dice. Three. Take it or leave it.”

She paused.

“Fine. Three. Three thousand.”

“Deal,” I said. I put my paper aside and stood up. “Let’s go.”

“Go? Where?”

“I was thinking about your room. If your mom and dad came home to find you putting on a panty show for your uncle in the living room, they wouldn’t care how enterprising you were being - sure they’d be upset with me but I bet they’d be even more upset with you when I tell them it was your idea.”

“Like they’ll believe that,” she scoffed, but she didn’t sound fully confident.

“Uh, I’m not the one who just quit their third part-time job in as many weeks, and who is desperate enough for cash that they offered to flash their uncle for money. And they know how much you love your phone.”

She stared at me for a moment, tight lipped. Then she got up from the sofa without saying anything and headed for the stairs. I watched her disappear up the stairs. Then after a moment she reappeared.

“Are you coming or not?” she snapped.

“Is that anyway to treat a customer?”

“Argh!” she huffed and stomped back up the stairs. I followed her.

My sister had been on my case for a few years now about what I was doing with my love life. I was just past thirty and didn’t have a steady girlfriend. I went on dates and had short term flings, but I just wasn’t really ready to settle down yet due to my building career. What my sister and brother-in-law didn’t know, and my niece most definitely couldn’t think of, was that during the occasional dry spell I would visit a soapland for some special release time. My preference was for the younger slender girls. And more often than not I would pay for the costume option. Usually the school uniform. Of course, the girls didn’t sleep with you. After all, proper sex is not allowed in Japanese sexual businesses. However they could occasionally be convinced to let something ‘accidentally’ slip in for an extra cash-in-hand bonus, particularly if you got them hot enough. And I was quite good at that.