Emma Read online

  Charlotte couldn’t deny that Susan’s love for her was not undesirable. Indeed, Susan’s passion for her made it easier for her to keep at bay the jealousy she felt towards Emma’s mysterious sex life and Josephine’s thespian one. She knew that Susan was also enjoying a sex life away from her. She was quite in demand in films that required oriental women and, taking account of her small breasts and boyish body, sometimes children. Charlotte had even seen Susan in some of these films on video. Susan would frequently watch them to review her technique and make notes of in a small school notebook she kept for the purpose. Charlotte occasionally watched Susan and Josephine make love together - something she allowed because far more frequently she would be making love to Josephine with Susan watching.

  Susan had a very understanding relationship with Charlotte. She knew that Josephine occupied a primary role in Charlotte’s life - and showed no embarrassment about this. When Josephine visited, which was four nights out of seven, Susan stayed quite out of the way, occasionally watching but more often seeming totally uninterested. Even at night, with the three of them under the same sheets, Susan would stay to one side as Josephine and Charlotte made tender love together. In fact, she admitted to getting a warm fulfilment out of seeing the woman she loved getting so much pleasure out of sex - even if it wasn’t with her.

  Susan still saw her boyfriend, saying that it wasn’t possible just to abandon someone who she’d lived with for so long. Indeed, she once invited him round one evening. He was an oriental himself - shorter than Charlotte and much shorter than Josephine, but still taller and less slight than Susan. It wasn’t very long after the meal, that Susan and he started fucking on the living room floor. Charlotte, who didn’t see this kind of thing nearly as frequently as Josephine, felt immobilised by the sight of it. On the one hand, the sight of this erect penis in Susan’s mouth and then in her vagina rather repulsed her. On the other, it brought back warm feelings of the men she’d made love with when she was still a sapphic virgin.

  After Susan had decided that she’d had enough of making love to him, she invited the other girls to join in. “Best to be polite!” said Josephine with a smile, kissing Charlotte full on the mouth and allowing her tongue to glide over Charlotte’s teeth. She then went down on the ground with Susan’s boyfriend, while Susan herself came over to Charlotte and put her arm round Charlotte’s naked waist and gently stroked her pubic hair.

  It was inevitable that when Josephine had finished that Charlotte felt that, yes, she’d like to have sex with a man again. She felt a bit nervous, but Susan’s boyfriend, who was a sex film actor like Susan, knew how to comfort her, and soon she was again enjoying full penetrative sex. She occasionally looked up at her friends and could see Susan and Josephine, with their arms around each other watching her with supportive smiles, and this added passion to her activity. She wasn’t really making love to a man, she thought. It’s my friends whom I’m making love with, she said to herself as the penis thrust deep inside her and brought her to a crescendo of gasps. She enjoyed the deep thrust that she’d almost forgotten after all these months of sapphic love. She may be a lesbian, Charlotte reflected, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself with men.

  Chapter XV

  Dorothy and Emma were wrapped around each other and Dorothy’s teeth were greedily guzzling on Emma’s vagina. They’d been having a fairly busy session of lovemaking, enlivened by Emma beating her buttocks quite ferociously with a table-tennis bat: a game they’d only recently started playing. Indeed many of the games they played had an air of brutality: involving the insertion of quite painful objects up her vagina and anus, and frequent beatings across the buttocks. Indeed, lovemaking with Emma had become more brutal than making love to a man had ever been. And it was always she who was getting the roughest of it. In bed, it was always Emma who was the dominant partner. Dorothy didn’t mind, though. At least it kept the two of them together. She allowed her eyes to wander from Emma’s clitoris towards her face and noticed that Emma’s eyes had a far away and distant look in them.

  She tried to work out what it was that Emma may have been thinking about. It certainly wasn’t sex. Perhaps she was thinking about her daughter. Certainly, Emma’s love for Maisie, although rather perverse, was also very touching. Emma and her daughter would return together from the studio, hand in hand, in delightful joy at just being together. Maisie’s eyes lit up so brightly when she was with Emma. And Emma’s eyes also sparkled in a special way when she was with Maisie.

  There was none of that sparkle in Emma’s eyes at the moment. Nor did there ever seem to be any sparkle in her eyes when they were together compared to that when Emma was with Maisie. In fact, - and Dorothy pulled her mouth off Emma’s crotch at the thought, - the most common expression in her eyes was boredom.

  “What’s wrong, Dorothy?” asked Emma from above on feeling Dorothy suddenly disengage herself.

  “You don’t love me at all, do you?” Dorothy accused her suddenly.

  “Sorry. What do you mean?”

  “It’s Maisie you love,” Dorothy continued, pushing herself back and instinctively covering her breasts from Emma’s gaze. “Not me at all. You only come here to see Maisie!”

  “That’s nonsense,” said Emma, but blushed like someone who had just been found out.

  “It isn’t, you know,” Dorothy continued, standing up and putting on her underwear. “You’ve never loved me, have you? You only started a relationship with me to be able to see Maisie. I hate you!” She burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably.

  Emma jumped up from the bed, with the table-tennis bat still in one hand, and put a comforting arm around Dorothy’s shoulders. At first Dorothy was comforted, but then she abruptly flung Emma’s arm off. “I don’t care. I’m not living a lie with you. When you come round here from now on, you come round to see and sleep with Maisie. You don’t sleep with me any more! Do you understand! No more sex between us!”

  Emma was clearly taken aback. She sat disconsolately at the end of the bed looking down at her hands and idly examined the rubber surface of the table-tennis bat. “What shall I do?” she asked weakly.

  “Go into Maisie’s bedroom and make love with her, as that’s what you want to do. But don’t come here and don’t try to make love with me again.”

  Emma initially resisted leaving, but when a fully-clothed Dorothy started pushing her out of the bedroom it was clear that her erstwhile lover was in earnest. She obediently walked into Maisie’s bedroom where the child was delighted by the surprise visit.

  A new pattern had formed in Emma’s relationship with Maisie and her mother. From now on Emma’s visits to Maisie’s home felt much less welcoming than before, but her love for Maisie drove her to continue.

  Dorothy felt both sorry for Emma’s discomfort when she was visiting and bitter now that they were no longer lovers. When Emma and Maisie came home, she would greet Maisie as warmly as before, but was much more frosty towards Emma who she greeted as briefly and politely as she could. Then Emma and Maisie would retreat to Maisie’s bedroom where they no doubt indulged in their sex games together. Games from which Dorothy was now excluded.

  She sometimes speculated as to what Emma and her daughter did together. She knew the games that she had played with Emma herself, and she remembered how rough they could be. She still had red marks on the cheeks of her buttocks from when Dorothy felt in need of a beating and Emma had obliged. She remembered the occasions when she had nearly broken her nose in repeated batterings against Emma’s buttocks. And she could still feel the carrots, cucumbers and other such vegetables that Emma would force up her vagina and sometimes her anus. She remembered the tiny blood stains that sometimes dripped out from between her legs the following day after a particular passionate night, irrespective of how close it was to her menstrual period.

  Dorothy’s concern for Maisie was also coloured by a wave of jealousy: one which wasn’t at all improved by the fact that her daughter was quite obviously enjoyi
ng the extra attention that her lover was giving her. Dorothy would often see Maisie squeeze Emma’s hand tightly in affection. She would see Maisie grip Emma tightly around the waist, and nuzzle her nose in the bushy mound of Emma’s pubic hair. Emma’s affection for Maisie was also undeniable. In her more charitable moments, Dorothy reflected stoically that at least the two people she cared about most were happy together, even if they didn’t seem so happy with only her.

  However, this uneasy relationship couldn’t last for long. Its strain was particularly agonising when Dorothy saw Maisie licking at Emma’s vagina while her hair was being appreciatively stroked. Or when she heard her daughter’s cries of ecstasy or, less frequently but louder, those of Emma, coming from Maisie’s bedroom during the evening or night. But the final moment was when an ecstatic Maisie came rushing in to confide to her mother what she’d been doing.

  Dorothy was reading a book at the time. She’d just finished marking some essays, and had squeezed ear-plugs in her ears to drive out the sounds from Maisie’s room of Emma’s cries and the dreadful thumping of the bed against the wall. Then she noticed her daughter coming in, naked as always and saying “I’ve done it! I’ve done it!”

  “Done what, dear?” wondered Dorothy, looking up from her book and noticing for the first time that Maisie wasn’t actually naked. She was wearing quite a sizeable, anatomically correct, dildo around her waist which looked monstrous on such a small slender frame.

  “Why, Mummy! I’ve fucked Emma! I’ve always wanted to and now she’s let me!”

  “You’ve done what?” demanded Dorothy angrily. Is this the sort of language she’d taught her child to use?

  “I’ve fucked Emma!” Maisie said, with a mixture of residual ecstasy and satisfaction tinged by uncertainty derived from her mother’s tone.

  “Don’t use that language with me, young lady!” Dorothy suddenly shouted, slapping her daughter on the face. “Don’t use words like that ever again!” She slapped her daughter again.

  Maisie fell back on the bed crying, with the still-moist dildo sticking out incongruously.

  “What have I done wrong, Mummy!” she cried.

  At that moment, Emma arrived, with trickles of sweat still running down her thighs and chest.

  “What’s going on?”

  From then on, the evening was a long tirade of screaming, shouting and accusations - mostly made by Dorothy. Maisie cried to herself - and only said anything when asked. And then whatever she said seemed only to make things worse. Emma said very little, but was clearly unhappy.

  Finally, Dorothy announced: “If you want to see my daughter again: Fine! But don’t come around here again. Have your perverted sex somewhere else, and don’t let me know about it!”

  “Can I stay at Emma’s then?” wondered Maisie through her reddened, tear-stained face.

  “If you must! It’s none of my concern what you do together! But Emma’s not to cross the threshold of this house again!”

  Chapter XVI

  At last! Maisie was going to visit Emma’s home and meet the girlfriends Emma had told her about. Actually, she’d would only meet one of them, Charlotte, because her other girlfriend was working abroad at the moment making sex films. But it was so exciting anyway to be staying somewhere that wasn’t her normal home. And as Emma had explained to her, she might be staying at Emma’s flat quite frequently in the future. Ever since Mummy had argued with Emma, staying at home had become quite awkward, with Mummy being so sullen and being funny about her not wearing clothes. Why had it been alright to wear no clothes before and now totally wrong? Grown-ups were so funny!

  Emma’s flat was in such a very old building which you had to go up ever so many stairs to get to. And when you got there you had to use keys just as you had to get into the building in the first place. But the flat was very welcoming, with a book-cupboard and a vase of dried flowers in the hallway just outside and a very pretty poster of more flowers on the actual door. Emma and Maisie hadn’t put any clothes on after leaving the studio and going by the car from the television car-park. Nor did they from getting out of the car in the apartment block’s underground car-park to entering the flat. It was a strange thing, Maisie thought to herself, to lead a life of no clothes. None of her schoolfriends did that.

  Inside the flat were more naked bodies: there were two girls with shoulder-length hair lying on a sofa and idly playing with each other and another girl watching television from a sofa. Only this other girl wasn’t so naked and she looked terribly young. In fact, as Maisie soon realised, this girl was wearing only a tee-shirt, advertising a popular soft drink, and only looked young because her body was so small and slight. She was Japanese or Vietnamese or Chinese or something. When Emma and Maisie entered the living room, there was a sudden eruption of activity as the girls jumped up to greet them. Maisie began to realise that none of these people had seen much of Emma for a while and were asking her ever so many questions about what she’d been doing and telling her about what they’d been doing.

  “And who is your young friend?” asked Josephine, addressing Maisie, who not unnaturally was feeling rather out of place.

  “Maisie,” announced Emma. “Her name’s Maisie. She’s on the cast of St Denis Street

  .”

  “I’ve seen that,” said Susan rushing up and kissing Maisie tenderly on the cheek. “You’re not called Maisie on the program. Though I can’t quite remember what you’re called. It’s a very popular soap opera.”

  Charlotte was feeling rather overwhelmed by the arrival of the other love in her life. And where was this teacher that Emma was supposed to be living with? And what about this boss of hers? And what had this little girl … this naturist little girl …got to do with anything? She’d not been aware that Emma had ever had children. She soon pieced together from the conversation that Maisie was this teacher’s daughter and that because her home was such a long way from the Harlot TV studios it made sense for her to stay the night at the flat. Why did it make sense now and not before? wondered Charlotte, before being rushed off in the group towards a chattering mass of anecdotes and recollections that accompanied the preparation of dinner - which everyone had a hand in - and its consumption over a bottle of wine.

  Josephine and Susan were excellent with children - especially Josephine who shared a child’s enthusiasm for fluffy toys and for life in general. Susan helped in her own way by being a sort of bridge between Josephine and Maisie, and the conversation she was having with Emma. Emma was affectionate as she’d used to be, and in fact was rather less tense than Charlotte had mostly remembered. It was as if some load had been taken off her mind.

  She was even rather surprised to see that Charlotte was still shaving her crotch. “There’s really no need to do that for my sake!” she exclaimed. “I’m really not worth such love!” Charlotte felt her old warm emotions swell towards Emma as the conversation went on. She was right, she said to herself, to have kept her loyalties true to Emma.

  It wasn’t long until Charlotte’s thoughts moved towards sex. She kept her hands and arms on Emma as much as she could and was pleased to see that Emma wasn’t pushing her off. After the dinner, she and Emma sat together on the sofa, their arms around each other, tenderly kissing each other’s face and breasts and talking intently. Charlotte allowed her hands to wander down to Emma’s crotch and was just about to start stimulating her clitoris in the way that Emma had always seemed to like, when Emma abruptly pushed her hand to one side.

  “Don’t forget Maisie!” Emma remarked pointing out the child who was busily discussing computer games and pop music with Josephine and Susan. Charlotte nodded and decided that it was probably best to wait until the child had gone to bed before she and Emma became more physically intimate.

  When Maisie did go to bed though, in Emma’s double bed, Charlotte was surprised to see Emma go to bed at precisely the same time. Emma wasn’t known for being the sort of girl who went to bed especially early, but it particularly peeved Charlotte. S
he had hoped that she and Emma would be going to bed together. Josephine could see that Charlotte was disappointed, but as a faithful friend she let Charlotte herself take the initiative in moving towards bed where Susan was already waiting. Susan could also see that Charlotte was disappointed, and so it wasn’t too surprising that with both of Charlotte’s lovers being so concerned about her welfare that very soon all three of them were making intense love together. And not too long until the flat was shaken by the sounds of the three girls passionate cries - particularly those of Charlotte, who despite her disappointment was still intensely excited by Emma’s return to the flat.

  After a while, Charlotte, Josephine and Susan felt that they’d had enough and lay exhausted on top of each other, the salt of Susan’s sweat dripping down her nose and into Charlotte’s mouth, while Josephine’s shiny moist legs wrapped around Charlotte’s. It was at that stage that Charlotte became aware of the sound of lovemaking coming from Emma’s bedroom: a sound at once familiar from the countless conjugal couplings that her bed had been party to and unfamiliar because Emma had been so much absent of late. But yes! it was lovemaking. And it was coming from Emma’s bed. There were the unmistakable gasps that Emma made when she was at her most passionate and a thundering noise as her bed rocked repeatedly against the wall.

  Charlotte put a finger to her mouth and looked at Josephine with a quizzical expression. “Who …?” she mouthed.

  Josephine smiled reassuringly and whispered, “There are two people making noises in there.”

  “Two?” wondered Charlotte, but sure enough there was another relatively squeaky voice also making sounds indicative of passionate love. “Surely not Maisie…”

  “She’s very honest about her relationship with Emma,” commented Josephine, reminding Charlotte of who had been talking to Maisie all evening. “It seems they’ve had a relationship for several months now, which for a girl of her age will have seemed like forever.”