Chapter One

“No,” he said.

“Please,” she whined.

He sighed. “Whining is not an attractive habit for a young lady.”

“I’m not a young lady,” she sniffed.

“What are you then?”

“Not a lady,” she replied pertly.

“What then, a tramp?”

“Tramp!? God, Jeff, you’re so – old!”

“Sorry, I was trying to be polite. I could have said slut.”

She opened her mouth in mock indignation. “Are you calling me a slut!?”

“Certainly not. I just asked what you were if not a lady.”

“I’m a woman,” she said, with an upward tilt to her nose.

He raised his eyebrows and she giggled.

“I don’t know, it’s just that young lady sounds so – so - .”

“Young?

“Exactly!”

He shrugged. “Nineteen is pretty young as far as I'm concerned.”

“So can I?”

“No.”

“Please!”

He sighed and looked over the edge of his blueprints at her. She promptly gave him her sad little girl look, but that really wasn’t working on him any more. He just wasn’t thinking of Emily as a little girl these days. Not after spending the last week with her alone in the small cabin on largely deserted Lake Borland.

It hadn’t seemed like it would have been a problem. He'd known her since she was born, was such close friends with her father she and her brother called him “Uncle Jeff” for most of their lives. He’d loaned the cottage to her family and she’d spent the week before there with her parents and brother. But then he’d arrived to start the renovations and addition he’d long been planning to build and she’d begged to stay on. Well, it was a beautiful lake, and the land around it was pristine and gorgeous. What wasn’t to love?

For the first few days things had been fine. Then the boy who had kept her occupied had gone back to the city and she’d been left bored. It was an hour and a half drive back to the city, though, and he’d warned her before agreeing to let her stay that she’d be stuck there for at least two weeks. She’d eagerly agreed.

But she was a city girl with no real knowledge of the woods, nor any great affection for them either. Nor could she swim, though she sure did look good laying around in a bikini.

It didn’t really make Jeff uncomfortable that he thought the girl was hot stuff. She wasn't really his niece, after all. And he’d have had to have been made of marble not to notice her flawless skin, her lithe young body, her firm young breasts only partially covered by the small triangle bikini cups, her perfectly flat belly and long, smoothly tapering legs. He’d have had to be blind not to notice her absolutely perfect, almost impossibly perfect little ass.

It was that ass which often drove him to distraction. He’d always had a particular favorite; small, tight and round, and that described Emily’s ass to a T. She was a slender girl and she had a small bottom, but it was pert and round and shapely, like an artist’s rendering. It looked incredible in tight trousers, but in a thong, well, it was impossible not to imagine touching it, feeling it, sliding his hungry fingers over her tanned flesh and squeezing it all day long.

He had fantasized just the previous night, in bed, with his hand around his cock, of spreading her out on her belly before him and tonguing her beautiful little ass until she screamed and then ramming his cock into her to the balls.

Now he looked over the blueprints and saw her huge doe-like eyes, and that mass of red ringlets spilling down around her narrow, beautiful face, and despite her beauty, thought of her ass. Well, no, not entirely. He thought of her full young lips wrapped around his cock, then her ass.

And while he’d done his best to hide any such interest he was beginning to suspect that she had come to realize that her barely clad body was affecting him. She thought of herself as sophisticated, but while the law said she was an adult she was still a teenager, and he’d had a lot of women in his life. He could tell one posing for him, and she’d been doing it more and more often, thrusting out her chest, arching her back as she “yawned”, extending one of her long legs out to put her bare foot on the edge of a counter or table, and bending over in one of her tiny thongs right in front of him.

Then again, young girls, he knew, liked to show off their bodies around men who they thought of as safe. It was cock teasing for pride’s sake, and experimenting, and reassuring themselves that they were hot and sexy.

Right then she was wearing her black bikini. The front was low, barely covering her pussy, the back was a very small inverted triangle, the straps rising high on her hips.

Though she was not big breasted the cups were a size too small, squeezing her breasts in and up and out so that the string looked ready to burst. And the cups covered only the front of her breasts, so that if she turned to the side the side of her smooth, creamy breast was virtually naked to his eyes.

She made it a habit to turn a lot, as if looking out at the lake below.

“You can’t use the canoe because you can’t swim.”

“I don’t plan to swim. Duh!” she complained.

“Canoes are unstable. You could fall in, especially since you don’t know how to use one.”

“So show me,” she said, exasperated. “I’m a young woman, remember? How am I supposed to learn anything if my elders don’t show me?”

“I’m kind of busy working. Remember?”

She sighed and folded her arms under her breasts, pushing them out even more. “You’re always working.”

“That’s why I’m here. I want to double the size of the cottage, make it respectable.”

“Why’d you buy it if it was too small?”

“Because it was cheap.”

She rolled her eyes.

“If you ever get a job you’ll be taking that into consideration.”

“That’s not fair. I tried to get a job!”

“Just not very hard.”

“I’m not willing to work for minimum wages, if that’s what you mean!”

“Emily, you have minimal skills. Why should anyone pay you more?”

“Because I look hot,” she said with a smirk, arching her back and pushing her breasts out very obviously.

“Can’t you see me in a hot dress at a reception desk or something?”

“You can’t type and you hate computers.”

“So I could greet people coming in! And I could, like, call people and say they have a visitor.”

She sighed and tossed her head, which, with her thick red locks was impressive. “What I really want to be is a model.”

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t think I could be a model?”

“You’re beautiful,” he agreed.

“So? If only my parents had been willing to pay for those modelling lessons and buy me an album.”

“An album?”

“You need to get your pictures taken by a professional photographer, you know, compile an album.”

“You mean a portfolio.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“That can cost thousands of dollars. Your parents aren’t rich people. Besides, you’d never be a good model. You don’t have any discipline.”

“So who needs discipline? I have looks. I got a killer body.”

She posed again for his benefit.

“Every would-be model has looks and a killer body. Look, you know what the difference is between the first place finisher at the Olympics and the last place finisher?”

She made a confused face. “In what?”

“Doesn’t matter. Track and field, swimming, whatever.”

“I don’t know, Jeff,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“About a fraction of a fraction of a second. The point is, all models are beautiful, and they all have great bodies. The ones who win have just that extra bit more.”

“I have great hair too!”

“Yeah, them too. But they also have discipline. Look at your body,” he said.

He dared to run his hand over her belly, and she didn’t jump back. “Soft,” he said.