Emma Read online

  “What can I do?” she confided to Dorothy. “I see her every day when she’s on the set. I can’t suddenly stop seeing her and pretend she’s not there. And am I to stop coming here where I see her all the time? What can I do?”

  “You do love Maisie,” commented Dorothy. “And sincerely.” She pulled the younger woman towards her front and held her tightly to her breasts while Emma wept in self‑pity and held back the occasional choke.

  When Emma left the following morning to drive back to her flat, Dorothy was particularly insistent that she should visit again. “You mustn’t make your feelings for my daughter blight your life,” she insisted. “In fact, I’ll have a word with her.”

  “What good would that do?” sobbed Emma as the garage door opened and she drove off.

  The next time Emma came to stay with Dorothy was again after a day in the studio where she’d been polite with Maisie but tried not to look directly at her. She mustn’t torture herself. She had to let her feelings gradually die. Maisie, however, seemed peculiarly jolly and made many strange comments about the other cast. She particularly made a point of watching this episode’s sex scene which continued Melissa’s affair with her ‘next‑door neighbour’ and was followed by a scene in which her ‘boyfriend’ (who in fact had already had sex with the ‘next‑door neighbour’ in real life) discovered the two together and had to appear rather distressed.

  “Melissa’s really enjoying these sex scenes,” commented Maisie. “She much prefers it to all those swimming pool, bathroom and bathing bed scenes.”

  This sounded odd to Emma who knew that Maisie had her fair share of exactly those kinds of scenes. In fact, the only times she wore clothes (except when she went to school) were those scenes where she was not required to be naked. In those scenes, Maisie seemed almost a different girl but no less seductive.

  When Emma and Maisie arrived at Dorothy’s home, she noticed a curious air of anticipation about Maisie. An air she’d sensed on the journey back where Maisie spoke relatively little and often looked at her. What could Dorothy have told her daughter? Surely she wouldn’t have told the truth?

  Dorothy smiled and hugged Emma. “I’m so glad you decided to come,” she said. “I was frightened you’d never come again. And Maisie’s pretty glad too.”

  “Why Maisie?”

  Dorothy put her arms around Maisie’s shoulders and pulled her towards her dressing‑gowned body. “Well we spoke didn’t we, Maisie?”

  “Yes,” said her daughter with none of the older women’s caution. “Mummy told me that you’ve got a crush on me. She said that you want to have sex with me.”

  “She did!” gasped Emma in alarm.

  “Well, Maisie asked some pretty direct questions…”

  “And I said to Mummy that I don’t mind. After all, Katie’s done it enough times.”

  Katie was another girl on the set, a little older than Maisie but still rather young. But what was Maisie saying? “What don’t you mind …?” Emma asked, hardly daring to guess.

  “You know, silly,” laughed Maisie. “Mummy says she’ll help.”

  “Help what?”

  Dorothy interceded. “Help you make love with my daughter, of course! She’s not done it before, but she’s very keen on the idea. She said she thought you might, as she calls it, fancy her, but she didn’t know if you’d ever ask. Apparently, she’s been wanting you to ask her from whenever she first met you.”

  “You’re quite nice,” Maisie admitted. “And you look really nice too. And you’re not going to stick a willy in me like the men do. Katie says it sometimes hurts really bad and it’s better with girls.”

  And so it was with trepidation that Emma made love to Maisie. Her mother held her head and shoulders in her lap and stroked her hair while Emma explored Maisie’s body with her tongue and fingers and encouraged Maisie to reciprocate. At first, both of them were very awkward. Emma was in awe of Maisie’s beautiful child’s body. Her heart thumped like a steam‑hammer and her cheeks burned like toasters. Maisie, meanwhile, watched Emma with the intense concentration of a child, no doubt wondering what pleasure was supposed to be given.

  After a while, Dorothy moved away and sat discreetly on a chair. She occasionally nodded and smiled encouragement at her daughter who was gradually getting more used to what she was doing and feeling. Maisie crawled down Emma’s body and explored her vagina with her tongue and fingers. She opened up the labia and peered right in. “It’s much bigger than mine,” she commented, as she put her fingers right in. “And it’s very sticky!” Emma gasped as she swivelled round so that she could stimulate Maisie’s tiny little vagina. The difference in size required Emma to bend over in a very unnatural manner to insert her tongue there, while most of the work came from her fingers as they exercised Maisie’s minuscule clitoris.

  “Ooh! That feels funny,” giggled the child. “And you give out ever such a funny smell. And you’ve got a funny thing like a little boy’s willy.”

  “You’ve got one too,” commented Dorothy.

  “But it’s not like this!” Maisie exclaimed. “And there’s lots of folds here and lots of hair. Oooh! It keeps getting in my teeth! And what are you doing to my bottom? That feels really funny! I think it’s nicer at the front. There’s much more space!”

  Emma’s and Maisie’s lovemaking session was very different from what both had expected. Maisie had expected the world to explode like fireworks and that she’d gasp and make noises just like the other girls did on the set of St Denis Road. Emma hadn’t really considered how much difference pre‑pubescence made on sexual awareness and sexual attitudes. Maisie had no concept of homosexuality, perversion or sexual morality. Her only criteria were comfort and pleasure. She thought the smells were funny and that Emma sweated too much. Also, neither of them had really considered the difference their sizes made, particularly in terms of sexual organs. Maisie found Emma’s spectacularly large and her nipples enormous. Emma found she had to be much more careful and considerate with Maisie’s vagina than she’d ever been with one before. It was as delicate as a new flower and resisted penetration by even Emma’s tidily manicured fingers to an extent she’d never imagined.

  At the end of it, Maisie felt slightly disappointed and Emma felt she had somehow passed through an emotional stage in her love‑life that perhaps most lovers go through long before they had had as many sexual encounters as she’d had. Maisie complained that she hurt in certain places, particularly her bottom, and was covered in saliva from Emma’s tongue.

  “Don’t worry, dearest,” her mother reassured her. “The first time is always a bit funny.”

  “Does it get better?” Maisie wondered.

  Dorothy looked meaningfully at Emma who surrounded her daughter lovingly in her arms and was filled with peculiar and conflicting thoughts. “That depends on the next time, doesn’t it?”

  Maisie was jolly pleased that she had a girlfriend now. Especially a grown‑up one and one as important as Emma. Even Katie didn’t have a girlfriend although she was always making love with different people on the cast. It was much nicer to just have the one girlfriend and not lots of different ones even if you still sometimes felt just a little sore when you went to the toilet.

  When she was at the Harlot TV studio, she would stay as close to Emma as possible, often holding her hand and sometimes kissing her on the face or other places which she thought of as special places. Emma didn’t seem to mind the hand‑holding, but she didn’t like the more intimate stuff. “You shouldn’t do that at work,” she commented.

  “Why not? Melissa does all the time. She’s always fucking people even when she’s not being filmed!”

  “Well, don’t! Some people don’t like to see it!”

  “Oh! You’re such a Silly!” Maisie exclaimed, pointedly kissing Emma’s clitoris in the way that Emma usually liked so much. She liked to tell Katie and the other children on her cast about what she did with Emma at home. What was especially nice was the way they would tell h
er more about the things they did. It was like joining a new club where the membership fee was to have done it with someone.

  “I think Emma’s really pretty!” said Melissa. “I’d love to fuck her!”

  “What about your mum?” asked Katie. “Does she join in?”

  “Not really!” admitted Maisie. “She does it with Emma but not with me. But she kisses me a lot when she’s done it with Emma and she makes such a lot of noise. It’s funny how much noise Mummy makes. It’s ever so much more than Emma! And she smells funny too.”

  “You ought to do it with your Mummy,” advised Melissa. “It’d be a lot better!”

  “Isn’t that naughty?” wondered Maisie.

  “Don’t be silly!” exclaimed Katie. “Mummy’s been doing it with me for years! She says that’s why she got me into this: so’s she could watch me doing it on television. She says it gives her a real kick. And she says if my Daddy hadn’t left Mummy years ago, I could do it with him.”

  “Daddy used to do it with me before he left with Uncle Freddie,” said Melissa. “And I’ve never done it with Mummy. And I’ve asked her ever so many times!”

  Maisie still wasn’t sure it was right to make love with her mother, but since her mother was always there watching when she made love with Emma it was easy to try it out. The next time Emma and she were making love together she looked at her mother who was fingering herself in the front like she often did.

  “Why don’t you join in, Mummy?” she asked.

  Her mother nodded. She sometimes did do, but only to kiss, fondle or stroke Emma. She crawled onto the bed beside Emma and Maisie and kissed Emma on the mouth while Maisie’s tongue nibbled appreciatively at Emma’s clitoris. Then Maisie lifted herself off Emma and nibbled her Mother’s vagina. It was quite different to Emma’s, she could see. It looked a bit older with a few greying and coarse hairs and the pubic hair was somehow less bouncy. She pushed her tongue in deeply and was pleased to hear her Mother make groaning noises. This was different! thought Maisie, as she disengaged one of her hands from underneath Emma who was, in any case, enrapt in locating her mother’s anus and sticking her finger up it. She pushed her fingers into her mother’s vagina and watched as Emma put her much larger finger into the back where little dark brown bits stuck to the hairs at the back. Maisie put her tongue to the area between the vagina and the anus that Emma particularly liked. It was nice and sticky and smelt strongly of a different kind of sex smell to Emma’s. Her tongue occasionally lapped against Emma’s finger which she’d often before put into her mouth and licked off her own sticky stuff.

  Suddenly, Emma and her mother pushed themselves apart and Maisie to one side.

  “Maisie! What are you doing?” gasped her Mother. “What on earth are you doing!”

  “Don’t you like it, Mummy?” wondered Maisie. Katie told her that her mother always liked doing it. Why should her own mother be different? Maisie’s mother simply looked aghast.

  “It’s nice dearest. But you shouldn’t do it,” Emma tried to explain.

  “Why not?” asked Maisie who felt she’d done something very naughty and didn’t like being told off for it. “Katie does it. And Melissa. And Mummy seemed to like it!”

  On this occasion, both Emma and Maisie’s mother were adamant that Maisie shouldn’t continue, and indeed the whole of the rest of the evening was spoilt. Maisie started crying and retreated to her room leaving the other two looking both guilty and upset. She lay in bed, naked as always, sobbing into her pillow. “What did I do wrong?” she asked herself.

  A little later, Emma came up to her room but she didn’t come into the bed with her as she usually did. She sat by Maisie holding the sobbing girl’s head to her breast and comforted her.

  “Mummy just doesn’t want you to do that with her,” she tried to explain.

  “But I wanted to do it with Mummy!” sniffed Maisie. “You can! Why can’t I?”

  Emma smiled grimly. “It’s different for me,” she explained. “Anyway, Mummy says she doesn’t want to watch us together any more. She says it’s not right. So we’ll just have to make love together in your room.”

  “But Mummy’s bed’s a lot bigger and more comfortable.”

  “Well, perhaps we can use Mummy’s bed. But not with Mummy there.”

  After this occasion, Maisie noticed quite a different atmosphere at home. Emma made love with her less often and more often with her mother. Maisie felt she was being punished for something she’d not done, and she believed that Emma felt the same way. Emma was actually even more affectionate with Maisie than before, but seemed obliged to spend more time with her mother. Maisie was sure that it was she rather than her mother that Emma loved the most, but that Emma had to please her mother to be allowed to sleep with her at all. Maisie had the idea that in some peculiar way, Emma was paying her mother sex to have sex with her. What a funny way to pay!

  She mentioned this to Emma when they next made love together.

  “It’s like you have to make love to Mummy two or three times for every time you make love to me. Why don’t you make love with me more often?”

  Emma looked startled at Maisie’s observations, as if she’d been found guilty of theft. “Well, no, it’s not really that I’m paying Mummy to sleep with you,” she said in a way that to Maisie’s ears sounded like a lie. “But Mummy says I’ve got to spend more time with her.”

  “But if you didn’t do it with Mummy, would Mummy let you do it with me?”

  Emma didn’t answer, but bit her lip. There was an uncomfortable pause before Emma changed the conversation. Nonetheless, Maisie thought that Emma was somehow upset about what she’d said.

  Chapter XIII

  It was Amelia to whom Emma reported at work. Amelia was a stunning woman, Emma thought objectively. Certainly, the way she dressed was quite unusual. She wore stocking, suspenders and very high stiletto heels, but then, except for the cloak she sometimes threw over her shoulders and which came down to just below her buttocks, she wore nothing else at all. Amelia certainly wasn’t a naturist, otherwise, like Emma, she wouldn’t have affected any clothes at all. Nor was she particularly poor. Her clothes changed quite frequently - although they remained the same in principle - and looked fairly expensive (not that Emma was at all sure how much clothes actually did cost). Emma learnt that Amelia owed her position as one of the Executive Directors of Harlot TV to holding a substantial stake in the company’s shares, and she was one of the company’s founders. She’d made her fortune as a sex actress while in her teens, and, unlike many sex actresses, she’d saved her money and chose to invest it in the relatively new venture of sex television, rather than spend it on drugs and gambling.

  Emma found Amelia rather intimidating. It wasn’t Amelia’s age, though she was a little older than Emma, being in her early thirties. Indeed, despite being older, Amelia was still very attractive and took care to remain so. She had a trim figure which would have been athletic except that it was offset by a voluptuous bosom which might have been surgically enhanced. Her black hair fell straight onto her shoulders and then was cut so that it was shorter at the back than the front. Her chosen style of dress emphasised her legs. The stretch from her toes to the top of her thighs was breathtakingly long, and her pubic hairs were tidily trimmed to further exaggerate the length.

  It wasn’t often that Emma was called to Amelia’s office. She had just been supervising a production she had conceived: a guest show where ordinary members of the public would have the chance to fuck a celebrity. She had to concede that this was probably not one of her best ideas because ordinary members of the public might have enthusiasm but not technique, whereas the celebrities performed more for the camera than for their apparent partners. This meant rather more footage and clever editing than was normally budgeted for such programs. She had been sitting with Maisie who had alternated between pulling Emma’s clitoris and putting a finger up her anus, and complaining about why Emma was spending so much more time with her mother. Emma
was getting a bit upset about this herself, as her love affair with Maisie was getting unnecessarily complex. Would she have to drop Maisie? And could she survive the wrench?

  “Amelia would like a word with you,” announced Amelia’s Personal Assistant, Betty, who, as always, appeared out of nowhere. Betty was a slender girl with glasses and hair tied in a bun. She always wore a very smart suit, with stockings and stilettos, but only a bra under her jacket. She was smart and officious, and had a habit of somehow vanishing into the shadows wherever she was, so you were never sure she was still there or not. Betty took no apparent notice of Maisie’s blatant behaviour, and Emma wasn’t at all sure if her attitude belied disapproval or acceptance.

  “Why do you want to see me?” asked Emma when she was sat in front of Amelia in the comfortable armchair provided for visitors. She felt very nervous as Amelia leaned forward stroking her chin and allowed her breasts to touch the shiny oak veneer of her desk.

  Amelia smiled warmly. Behind her were pictures of actors and actresses - including a young Amelia - engaged in various sexual postures. On her desk was an expensive laptop computer.

  “To see you.” she answered enigmatically. She allowed Emma time to get a little more uncomfortable and then explained. “We’ve been working together a long time, Emma. Years in fact. And you’ve shown yourself to be very competent as a researcher and now as an Executive Producer. But I don’t think I really know you. I know you’re a naturist. But then, who doesn’t? And I’ve heard that, unlike most of the staff here, you’ve stayed commendably aloof from the sexual games that go on here. But that may just be a wise strategy in a business where sexual favours can count more than competence in the short run but count against you later. You have nevertheless advanced to quite a senior position with Harlot TV in a very short time.” Amelia paused and smiled again. “I thought I’d like to invite you out for a meal, so that I can get to know you better.”