Maybe just one

Emma's answer was a silent nod. Edward rose from his seat and turned to prepare her drink. As he fiddled with the glass and the decanter, Emma moved closer to the desk. Still waiting for her uncle, and her drink, Emma let her gaze fall on an old oil painting on the far wall.

It was a detailed painting of the lake house. Emma could tell by the cracks in the paint that it had been done some time ago, but the house still looked as old as it did now. Emma was still admiring the detail when her eyes caught the small figure painted into what would be Jake's room. The small person, or man Emma assumed, had only small dots for facial expressions, but he seemed lifelike.

"It's pretty good for an amateur, right?" Ed said as he moved close to her and handed her a drink.

Emma took the offered drink. "Amateur? It looks like someone commissioned a pro to paint it."

Ed laughed, and moved even closer to Emma. "Maude did that. She painted it when her father fell ill. It was her attempt to keep part of him with her." His thick finger pointed to the small figure in the painting. "That's him. That's your Grandfather Earl."

Emma started at the small painted man. She nursed her drink as she locked eyes with the tiny specks of paint on the figure's face. The small figure watched on as Uncle Ed brushed his hand up Emma's side.

"You're all wet, Emma." Ed said quietly.

Emma was too entranced by the small replica of her grandfather, a man she had never met, to mind when Ed moved his hand to cup her breast. She was too hypnotized by the painting to notice when Ed pulled the damp fabric of her shirt down to expose her bare breast. The exposed flesh was facing the painting.

Emma remained motionless and sipped her drink. She could almost feel the tiny man staring at her exposed tit. She took another swig of the drink. Her uncle was massaging her breast now, kneading the firm globe. Emma's eyes stared at the picture. She could swear that the painted figure of her grandfather seemed to be smiling.

Ed's hand moved down to unfasten the front of her jeans. The storm raged outside, adding to the surreal feeling swimming in Emma's mind. When she felt her pants and panties being tugged down, bringing her butt and privates in to view of her uncle and the bizarre painting, Emma finally reacted.

"No, don't." She quietly pleaded.

Edward didn't listen and roughly ran his large hand over her sex. He found the small bit of Emma's pubic hair, and tugged at a tuft of it.

"Ow, you're hurting me, uncle." Emma complained. But she stood rooted to her spot next to the desk.

Ed's large fingers pulled and pinched at her pussy lips, causing Emma to gasp and even cry out. Emma tossed back the last of her drink, trying to find some relief from the pain. Ed pulled her sex open farther. It seemed like he was trying to show the man in the painting Emma's tender insides.

Emma finally squirmed away from her uncle and fixed her pants.

Uncle Edward was just standing there, grinning.

"What the hell did you put in that drink?" Emma asked, trying to clear the fog that had her feeling hypnotized.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Can't handle some decent whiskey?" Her uncle mocked.

Emma felt rage boiling up inside her. The storm howled outside, reminding Emma of how things were when she first watched it out the open doorway. Emma shook away the fog, and anger, and pushed passed her uncle.

"That may have been a bit more enjoyable if you weren't such an asshole!" Emma said as she made her way out of the room.

"I enjoyed it just find, you simple tart." Ed hollered at her as she practically ran away.

Emma trotted passed her confused cousin James, and ran up the stairs. The old staircase trembled, creaked and groaned as she hurried upstairs.

That son of a bitch, Emma cursed her uncle as she sat on her bed. She listened to the storm outside and tried to calm down. She needed to clear her head and figure out what the hell just happened.

She sat for a good long time, listening to the storm. It finally brought her a sense of calm, but no answers.