"I don't really miss him," Emily said. "Does that make me a bad person?"
Alec and his sister lay side by side on the bed, still in their formal wear from Uncle Walt's wake. Alec wore his suit and tie, Emily a black dress that was thin and slinky for something like a wake – but it was all she had. She still wore a single white flower in her long, dark brown hair, her hands folded in her lap as she looked at the ceiling.
The official wake had been over for hours. Friends, family and well-wishers had showed up to eat, drink, and remember Uncle Walt. Now the house was mostly empty, save for their mother Carolyn, Aunt Donna, and Uncle Henry. The conversation had grown nostalgic and drab, and so Alec and Emily had fled to their mother's room to be alone for a while.
"Miss who?" Alec asked. "Uncle Walt?"
Emily smiled. "Oddly enough, I meant Dad."
Alec shrugged, the gesture making the bedspread whisper. "Dad was never very well-equipped to deal with death. It's always been in his nature to not show up for things."
"Yeah," Emily said. "My ballet recital in eighth grade—"
"My Little League games. What a bunch of cliches, right? It's like something out of a Spielberg movie."
Emily chuckled. "I know. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I kind of wish he were here, though."
"Yeah," Alec said. They lay next to each other and listened to the clock on the wall tick for awhile. "So do you miss Uncle Walt?"
"I barely knew him," Emily said. "But I do have one story I couldn't tell at the wake."
"Oh yeah?" Alec asked, grinning. "Tell me."
"You might think less of me when it's over."
"Naw." He nudged his sister gently, enjoying the closeness of lying next to her. She smelled like strawberries. "Tell."
"Uncle Walt totally made a pass at me, five years back. At my high school graduation, when everyone came out to visit."
Alec gaped. "He made a pass?"
"Yeah. I went to the bathroom to go freshen up, and he cornered me in the hallway. He was kind of drunk. Said something about how now that I was eighteen, I had turned into a beautiful young woman, and any guy would be lucky to have me, and that even though I was his niece, if I ever wanted to... well, you know."
"Holy shit," Alec said.
"That's not all. Then he tried to kiss me."
"Seriously?"
Emily bit her lip and smiled. "Okay, he succeeded. I let him."
"Em!"
"I know, I'm awful. But come on, Uncle Walt was hot for an older guy. He had such a distinguished face, and he was so charming. I know it doesn't sound that way, the way I'm describing it, but he was so affable and easygoing, like it was no big deal. And so when he went in for the kiss, I let him."
"Wow," Alec said.
"He also felt me up a little," Emily blurted. "And I liked it."
Alec blinked. "Okay, holy shit. How far did you guys go?"
"That was it," Emily said. "But, to tell you the truth, if I could have hooked up with him that night, I probably would have. I mean, I was still living at home, so it was impossible, but..." Emily shrugged delicate shoulders.
"Wow," Alec said. Unbidden, his mind began to focus on the image of Emily and Walt. He remembered that night — his sister looking fetching in a short blue summer dress, Uncle Walt in a jacket and loosened tie, Scotch in hand. He imagined Walt cornering her in the back hallway, near the laundry room, his lips on hers, his hands touching her body.
He tried to blink away the thought. Alec had always thought his sister was beautiful. There wasn't really any denying it. Tall, slim, and shapely without being skinny. A round face, long flowing brown hair and big, expressive sea-green eyes. A broad mouth with full lips and an easy, infectious smile. People said they looked alike, but Alec thought she was far more attractive.
The thought of Uncle Walt touching her, kissing her, made him unaccountably jealous. And the fact that she'd like it — his mind reeled.
He should let the subject drop. Nothing good could come of asking more questions.
"So, what exactly did he do?" he asked instead.
"Hmm?" Emily asked, her voice sleepy.
"Uncle Walt. You say he felt you up. Exactly what did he do?"
She lifted her head from the pillow, eyeing him curiously. "Why do you want to know?"
"I just do, okay?"
Emily smirked at him skeptically, lifting one eyebrow. "Well, he kissed me. On the cheek at first, then on the lips. I think he was testing it out, you know, to see if I'd let him. And then he kissed me on the lips some more, and then on my neck. He slipped the strap on my dress down over my shoulder, and kind of caressed my shoulder. Looking at me the whole time, to see if I'd slap his hand away or something. Which I didn't. And then he kissed me again and put both his hands on my breasts and squeezed and ran his thumbs along my nipples..."
Emily shifted in the bed, one leg rubbing against the other as she squirmed.
"I think, if I hadn't gotten nervous, he would have totally pulled my dress down so he could see my boobs. I could tell he wanted to. But just then Mom made some kind of noise out in the kitchen and I freaked and pulled away. I remember he just smiled at me, like it would always be our secret."
"Jesus," Alec said.
"It wasn't creepy at all, if that's what you're thinking," Emily said softly. "It was sweet. He didn't push me or anything. I totally wanted him to."
"You're getting turned on just talking about this," Alec said. "Aren't you?"
"Maybe," Emily said. "So what if I am? It's natural for people to get horned up at funerals, you know. Happens all the time."
"Yeah, but you're my sister."
"And Walt was my uncle. Does that bother you? Do you think I'm a perv?"
"Oh, you're totally a perv," he said. "I've known that for a long time."
Emily giggled. "Guilty. I come from a family of perverts, though. I've heard Uncle Henry and Aunt Donna talking. They both have some wild shit in their past. Mom, too."
"I wouldn't know about any of that," Alec said. He was still thinking about eighteen-year-old Emily, in that tiny blue dress, getting felt up with her family only feet away... bare shoulders, breathing hard...
"I need some of your water," Emily said, and rolled onto her side to reach across his body. Alec froze, stiffening as her body pressed against his. Her arm reached for the water on the bedside table, and then Emily herself froze.
Alec had a raging hard-on, and it was clear that Emily had just felt it. It poked up inside his dress pants, pressed against the flatness of her stomach.
"Alec," Emily said, softly, almost tenderly. She forgot about the water, and drew back her hand and met his gaze, eyes wide, lips parted.
Alec tried to shift away, but she held him gently in place.
"Emily, I'm sorry. It's not what it looks like."
"It's not?" Her pretty face broke into a disbelieving smile. "It looks like my story got you a little hard."
"Um — okay, then it is what it looks like. But I'm not... I don't..."
"Shh," Emily said, stroking his hair back from his head. "It's okay, big brother. I don't mind."
She kissed him on the cheek. She drew back and paused to see if he liked it.
He did.
Out in the living room, a burst of drunken laughter. Mom and Uncle Henry, telling some story about the old days.
"So," Emily said, watching him carefully. "What do you want to do?"
Alec blinked at her. "Do?"
"About this." She slid her hand down his silk shirt, over his erection through his pants. Her touch was electric. Alec's whole body lit up with nerves.
"Nothing. I mean, we can't. You're my sister."
