Naughty Nubile Niece Ch. 01

"Was everyone all right?"

"Well," she grinned. "He wasn't. Not after the lady-cop was done with him, for being dumb enough to run into someone who was standing still. Luckily, it didn't ding up my car too bad, but Mom and I figured that if his insurance was going to pay for it, we might as well get everything fixed that we could get away with. So the car is going to be down at Shelton's for another week or so.

"So I had Aunt Ashley run me out here earlier today, before she had to pick up Jackson and Daisy from school. I just wanted a couple of days away from everyone."

"There wasn't any food in the fridge," her uncle pointed out. "What were you planning on eating?"

The man is way too observant. "I've got some money," she replied. "I figured I'd order some delivery."

"What? Take-out pizza? I think we can do better than that. How about fish and pasta salad and maybe some grilled asparagus, with garlic bread on the side?"

Emily wrinkled her nose. "Fish? Is it going to be that greasy-ass beer-batter fish that Uncle Mark used to make, before he and Aunt Ashley split up? Because honestly, I'll pass on that. There's a Chinese place in town," she suggested hopefully. "We can order delivery."

"Chinese food? Here? If you ever come to New York," her uncle said, "I'll take you to Chinatown and we can have real Chinese food. And no. I'm not making beer-batter fish. Follow me, young padawan," he said, turning around and walking back up onto the deck. "And I will teach you wonders.

"After, of course, you change into something decent."

Emily was tempted to keep the bikini on, just to see what sort of reaction she would get from her uncle. But in the end she opted on the side of caution, and changed into a light pastel-blue skirt and matching button-down top, only a few shades darker. But out of some perverse instinct, she neglected to put on a bra and panties, and made sure that the buttons on her blouse weren't even close to being done up all the way.

"So," her uncle said as she stepped into the main room, pulling a dusty glass down from the overhead rack and wiping it clean on his shirtsleeve. "If I let you have a glass of wine before dinner, how much shit will I get from your mother?"

"None at all," Emily replied immediately. "I've had a beer or two with Mom. She knows I drink. Even wine, once, back on New Year's Eve."

"All right." Jason produced a corkscrew from the back of a drawer and pulled the cork from a bottle of red, splashing a healthy swallow of wine into his glass, and another he pulled down and passed to her. "Cheers. And you better not be lying to me."

"I'm not," she said truthfully, clinking the rim of her glass against his. "Mom trusts me."

"I wish I could have said the same thing, when I was your age," her uncle muttered. Emily kept quiet, content to watch as he pulled items out of the fridge and the cabinets, his body moving with quick efficiency.

"So if it isn't beer-batter fish, what are you making?" she asked.

"Fish sticks," he replied blandly. "With ketchup. Just like your grandma used to make. Nice and soggy. Yum."

"What? No way!"

"Damn right no way. Have you ever had salmon?"

Salmon? In Emily's mind, salmon was up there with filet mignon and caviar. Something that only rich people ate, and hellishly expensive. "You have salmon?"

Her uncle shrugged, broad shoulders moving easily under his shirt. "Sure. There was a sale at Kroger." He held up a package. "Probably not as good as we could get out on the coast, but good enough for now."

Humming, he fished out a shallow, glass-bottomed dish from one cupboard, and as Emily watched, began to put together their dinner. It was amazing, the way he was able to time things. First he boiled pasta, drained it, and set it aside in the fridge. While that was going on, he trimmed the asparagus and combined spices and sliced the pink-tinted salmon into fillets.

"Here," he said, handing her an onion and a bottle of black olives and a knife. "Chop those up, will you? They're for the pasta salad. I took a cooking class about five years ago," he added, brushing a skillet with olive oil. "My girlfriend's idea. We didn't stay together, but I learned to do some meals that weren't frozen pizza or chicken fingers. What was her name again?" He looked up, brow furrowing. "Glenda? Grace?" He snapped his fingers. "Gal. That was it. Gal Godot. Nice girl. I think she went into acting later. Well, who could blame her? I suppose a woman needs a distraction after she breaks up with me."

Snickering, Emily nearly sliced off the tip of her finger. "Uncle Jason, you liar! You did not go out with Gal Godot!"

"Well, if you say I didn't, you're probably right, Emmie," he agreed amiably, and went back to work on the fish, keeping up a running commentary. After she finished chopping the vegetables and mixed them into the pasta salad, Emily was content to watch. If her mother knew she was looking at her uncle that way, thinking thoughts she definitely should not be having, Jessica Chapel would probably drive out to the lake herself and drag her home by the scruff of her neck.

Looking isn't doing, she told herself virtuously. And her uncle was a man worth looking at. Old enough to be mature, young enough for his body to be at its physical peak. And the air of self-assuredness he had - every move unhurried, but still neatly efficient - was a huge contrast from the boys her age, who always seemed in an anxious, fumbling hurry, scared that if they missed their chance there would never be another one.

I bet he would know what to do in bed, she mused, watching him spin a knife in his fingers, before leaning over to cut the salmon into several equal-sized strips. The motion made his shorts tighten around his rear, and she found herself admiring the hard muscles of his ass. And he wouldn't be so full of himself that he would have to blab it all over town, either. God, I hate living in a small town. Go to bed with a guy and everyone knows about it the next morning. And then everyone looks at me the same way they look at Mom. As if actually having a sex drive is some sort of criminal activity, like getting high on ditch-weed on Friday night.

Oh, but it would be nice to peel off those shorts, see what her uncle's buns looked like, and fill her hands with his cock. She took a deep breath, the wine-induced warmth in her belly giving way to a low, smoldering heat, just a little lower. They were all alone, after all...

The oven dinged, making her jump. "Almost ready," Uncle Jason said, sliding a baking sheet into the oven. He checked the skillet. "So here's the trick. You just take your salmon and drag it through the spice mix." He demonstrated, then placed the fish carefully in the skillet, where it immediately gave off a crackling hiss.

Emily sniffed the aroma appreciatively. "What's in it?"

"The spices? Nothing fancy. Just paprika, cayenne pepper, sea salt, and oregano. I bet your mom has them all at home." Another fillet was placed beside the first. "These should be done in just a few minutes. Can you set the table?"

"Sure. Inside or outside?"

"Emily." Her uncle paused in the process of lifting the edge of a fillet up with a spatula to check its progress. "I live in New York. It's winter there for like seventeen months in a row. And when summer does come, the entire city smells like a urinal." He laughed at the face she made. "There's some great things about the city, but the weather isn't one of them. Hell yes, let's eat outside."

Emily's reaction to Jason's cooking was actually quite complimentary. After a first tentative nibble at a tiny sliver of salmon, her eyes lit up, and before long they were both eating with hearty appetites. The sun was setting behind the low hills to the west, but the air was still warm, with just enough breeze to keep the bugs away. Across the lake a few campsites had Christmas lights strung up around their spots, giving the entire area a festive look.

"This is so good, Uncle Jason," Emily said, cutting off another piece of fish. "You're totally going to have to give me the recipe before you leave."

"Good for you, too," he offered. "Not full of fat and grease. That's one thing I learned to watch out for. But this," he waved a piece of asparagus on his fork, "is about as healthy as it gets. Except for the garlic bread, of course," he added, using a piece to sop up some of the juice from the fish. "But we're Irish. If we don't get enough bread and potatoes, we'll probably go into some sort of coma."

"Whatever. I think it's great."

"Well, if you're going off to school in August, it wouldn't hurt you to get a cookbook. That way you'd be more prepared than I was when I went to the U of I. I swear, Emmie, I didn't know anything about living on my own. The summer between my junior and senior year, when I had to take summer classes because I changed my major to business, I think I lived on peanut butter sandwiches, soup, and soda."

"Too much soda will rot your intestines, Uncle Jason."

He grinned at her. "Listen. It's not an addiction. I just can't live without it, okay?"

"Mom says that you used to sneak out to the corner store and buy Mountain Dew and hide it in the back of your closet."

"Your mom," he said, with what he hoped was some measure of dignity, "should keep her big mouth shut about what happened back when we were kids." At least, he hoped that Jessica had kept her mouth shut about one specific thing.

But at least he was growing used to his niece's presence. After that first, cataclysmic shock, where he had seriously thought Emily was Jessica, the sheer impact of her presence had faded slightly. The two women were not identical twins, though Jason thought he could be forgiven for his mistake earlier. Emily was an inch or two shorter, and slightly chestier than his memories of her mother. But her eyes were the same dark shade of blue, her face was just as lovely, though subtly different around the lips and chin, and even dry, her hair gleamed like wet coal in the light from inside the house.

"So how's your mom doing these days?" Jason asked, in what he hoped was a suitably casual voice. "Is she going out with anyone? Some lucky guy going to make an honest woman out of her?"

"Oh, Mom doesn't go out with men, Uncle Jason," Emily said absently, looking out over the lake, where the setting sun was painting stripes of bronze and gold on the rippling wavelets. "She just brings men home and fucks them. Sometimes," she added, as Jason choked on his drink and tried to keep wine from spurting out of his nose, "she goes to their house and fucks them there. I don't think I've ever seen her go out with a guy for more than a month or two. It's like she's trying to screw her way through Williamson County until she finds the right one."

"Jesus, Emily!" He wiped his mouth. "Give me some warning, will you?"

"Why?" She turned innocent blue eyes to him, her brows crinkled in a quizzical frown. "You're not going to get all weird about it, like Grandma, are you? I thought you were from the big city, where people were used to that kind of thing."

"I live in New York," he replied. "But I'm never going to be from New York. There's a big difference. I'm an Illinois boy. Always was, always will be."

"So what does that have to do with Mom's sex life?" Emily shrugged unconcernedly. Jason resolutely kept his eyes away from his niece's chest. "If she wants to screw guys she finds attractive, that's her business. Not yours. Or mine. I'm pretty sure Mom is oversexed, compared to most women her age," she added, as if they were discussing a television program or a movie. Her eyes moved to his chest, and her head cocked inquisitively. "I know I am."

Suddenly Jason wished he had worn more clothes to the impromptu dinner. Something like a suit of armor, maybe. How could you possibly respond to a remark like that? Emily looked so much like his teenage memories of her mother, from her face to her ripe young body, tanned golden by the sun. Her lips were pink and plump and slightly parted, her breath coming just a little faster than it should have. But her eyes, gleaming slightly in the fading twilight, were frankly assessing as she gazed at him.

Jason had a sense of history repeating itself. Jess had looked at him in exactly the same way, that long-ago night, only a few miles away from where they were sitting right now.

It would be so easy...

Suddenly, Emily's phone rang, making him jump. His niece glanced at the screen, smiled, and picked it up.

"Hi, Mom. Yes, I got out here all right. It's only seven miles, you know. And you'll never guess who's here with me!"

Jason made frantic cutting notions with his hands, but Emily ignored him. "No, not Hugh Jackman," she giggled, and rolled her eyes. "You wish. Though it's almost as good. Give up? It's Uncle Jason!"

Even from across the table, Jason could hear the surprised squawk that emerged from the speaker. "I know, right? I was just coming back to the house after a swim, and there he was. Why? I don't know. Fine. You ask him yourself." She pressed a button on the phone and set it on the table. "You're on speaker now, Mom."

"Jason?"

"Hi, Jess."

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued, and Emily frowned at him. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, hating the stupid, inane question.

"I'm all right," his sister said. "What are you doing out here? And why didn't tell you anyone you were coming? If I had known, I would have come out to the lake with Emily." His sister's voice sharpened in sudden accusation. "Does Mom know? Or Ashley?"

He sighed. "I didn't tell anyone, Jess. It was..." How to explain Loretta's ultimatum? "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing," he finished lamely. "I needed some time alone to get my head right. Away from everyone. If I had known Emmie was out here, I might have gone somewhere else." Like Bolivia.

"Oh." Jessica's voice warmed slightly. "Is everything all right with the company? You're not in any sort of trouble, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, the Justice Department has a warrant out for me," he grinned, slanting a look at Emily, who pinched her lips shut on a giggle. "Insider trading and violation of SEC regulations. I think there might be something about a Ponzi scheme in there, too. Maybe a little light treason. Those guys can be so uptight."

There was a long pause, and then Jessica laughed - her old laugh, big and full-throated. Jason found tears pricking the backs of his eyes at the mere sound.

"You big liar," his little sister said. "But I wish you had told me you were coming out, Jason. I would have told everyone, and we could have had a big party tonight. But let me give Mom and Ashley a call, and maybe we can do something tomorrow."

"No!" The word was too quick, too harsh, and he winced. "Sorry, Jess. But I need...I need a little time by myself, okay? I want to see you guys. You and Mom and Ashley and the kids. But...just give me a day or two, okay?"

"All right." Something like understanding colored his sister's tone. "Give me a call when you're ready. I want to see you, Jason. It's been too long. We need to have a talk. A good long talk. Emily, are you still there?"

"I'm here, Mom."

"Come on home. Your uncle needs some time to himself. Do you need me to pick you up? Or can Uncle Jason give you a ride?"

"But Mom!" Emily protested.

"It's all right, Jess," Jason said quickly, driven to action by the look of betrayal in his niece's eyes. "I didn't know Emily was out here when I got here. It wouldn't be right for me to kick her out."

"All right," Jessica said reluctantly. "But if you decide she's more trouble than she's worth, you can give me a call. And I'll come pick her up. Or you can just drive her halfway back to town and kick her out of the car. That should teach her a lesson."

"It was one time, Jessica."

His sister snickered. "Yeah. I'm sure Austin feels that way."

"Goodbye, Jessica. I'll give you a call in a day or so. And then you can let everyone else know I'm here."

"All right. Bye, Emmie."

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, Jason." Even through the phone, he could sense Jessica's hesitation. "I love you."

"Love you too, Sis. See you soon. Bye."

"Thanks, Uncle Jason," Jessica said as she hung up the phone. "I did not want to go back home tonight."

"Oh? Any reason why?"

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "You know. Mom. I've sent all my paperwork off to college, and I'm set to start in August. But I've been thinking about taking a year off instead. When I told Mom about that, she nearly flipped. I got to hear stories about everyone she knew who had managed to ruin their lives after high school." Taking three quick steps, she gave him a quick, urgent hug. "Right now we're kind of in a low-grade war about it. And I didn't want to get into another argument." Lifting up, she kissed his cheek. "So it's good to stay out here and let her calm down for a day or two before we talk about it again."

Jason pulled back, and not only because of the way Emily's slim body fit into his arms and how the open neck of her shirt allowed him to look deep into her cleavage. "Your mom isn't wrong. If she had been more careful, she-"

He cut himself off, but Emily was no dummy. "She what, Uncle Jason?" Her eyes grew piercing. "She wouldn't have gotten pregnant with me? Is that what you were going to say?"

"We should clean up," he said, changing the subject. "I don't want to come out here tomorrow morning and find that we've got bugs all over everything."

Chapter 4: Family Matters

By mutual agreement, they dropped the subject of Emily's future, and her mother's past, as they cleaned up after the meal. The one thing the house did not have was a dishwasher, but they made quick work of that task, and stowed the leftovers frugally away in the fridge. If there was one thing that had been passed down the matriarchal line of the Chapel family, from grandmother to mother to daughter, it was the belief that wasting food was a sin right up there with taking a dump in public, or leaving your Christmas lights up in February.

"What was that all about?" Emily asked her uncle, when the dishes had been washed and were drying in the rack by the sink, and they were back out on the deck. She had one last glass of wine in her hand, and her head was feeling rather delightfully...floaty. Not drunk, at least, not the way she had gotten last month, with a bunch of kids out at the reservoir right after graduation. Just...relaxed. "What Mom said," she elaborated as Jason frowned. "About you and Uncle Austin."

Her uncle snorted. "Austin. That..." He trailed off, his mouth pinched tight. "Your uncle Austin got all of your grandfather's bad bits without any of the good ones, Emily. He can't listen and he won't learn, and he's not smart enough to know that he doesn't know everything. Thank God you and Ashley's kids aren't going to turn out like him."

He took a drink. "Anyway. I was about seventeen, I think, and Austin was maybe twelve. He was already making Mom and Dad think he was heading down the wrong path. Getting in trouble at school, shoplifting shit at the store and then claiming it was an accident when he got caught, that sort of thing.

"Mom asked me to try to help him out, be a role model for him. I didn't think that would work, since we couldn't stand each other, even back then, but I told her I'd try. I had a job by then, so I got us tickets to a Cardinals game, up in St. Louis, which I couldn't really afford, and we drove up one day.

"Well, they were playing the Braves, which was Austin's favorite team, because he just loved to be contrary. And they just kicked the absolute dogshit out of the Cardinals that day. I think it ended up being something like eleven to three.