Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I've gotten some complaint that I've left everyone in the dark about what happened last weekend when Emily's friend Evan came to visit and stayed with her.
I apologize, but to some extent, I have not written in because I'm still not sure what happened.
Yes, he came for the weekend. Yes, he stayed with Emily. Yes, they went out to dinner on Friday night, as well as out to a club on Saturday night. Yes, she wore the white babydoll on Friday.
But...I don't know what, if anything, happened.
Sunday afternoon I was sitting on my couch in a satin cami and tap panty set and a matching robe, at my place, drinking a glass of wine, reading the Sunday Times, when I heard a key in the lock.
"Emily," I said, surprised when she walked in the door.
"Hello my pretty girl," she smiled, closing the door behind her. "Still in your jamies, I see?"
"I," I looked down, "I didn't expect to hear from you till later."
"Well, Evan and I had late lunch, we slept in and he just left, so I thought I'd come over and see if Sara was behaving."
"Why wouldn't I be behaving," I asked.
"Well, sometimes a girl misbehaves," she chuckled. Em walked across the floor, her heels clacking on the hard wood, sat down in a leather club chair opposite me. She crossed her legs and I watched her black skirt ride up her thigh, exposing the pink welts of her stockings.
"You...you look nice," I said, unable to pull my eyes away from her nylon clad legs.
"Thank you. I thought you'd like. Everyone else seemed to, also."
"The old man at the table next to us at lunch, the waiter...Evan."
I looked away, felt my face flush.
"That's what you've fantasized about all weekend, haven't you?"
I looked down at the floor.
"Haven't you, Sara?"
"Come here," she said softly.
I stoop up, still not looking her in the eye, walked towards her, stood awkwardly in front of her. She nodded her head, with her eyes, indicated that I should kneel or sit in front of her, sit at her feet, at her throne.
"Isn't this what you fantasize about, Sara? Isn't this the dark things you write about in your stories, on your blog?"
I didn't answer, why should I? She knew. Emily moved her foot forward, until the top of her foot was under me, hovering, lightly pressing on the front of my panties, pressing into the swelling.
"You KNOW I've read that story you wrote, A Change in our Marriage. That's your fantasy, I know."
I closed my eyes, felt her foot massaging me, the erection in the tap panties.
"Evan really did love the white babydoll I wore Friday night after dinner."
A small gasp escaped my lips. I couldn't help it.
Emily laughed. "I know what you fell asleep dreaming about, Sara, but I didn't do that, I didn't fuck him. He wanted to, but I didn't. I made him stop."
I exhaled loudly, relief actually washed over me.
"Oh, I was a little naughty, but we didn't go that far...I forget what happens at second base, third base and all that, which one's under the shirt, which one's in the pants...or panties."
"Emily," I was breathing so fast I thought I might pass out.
"I want you, Sara."
I looked up, in her eyes, the hunger.
"I don't want a man right now, I want you."
She had me, right there, in the living room. Then later, in the bedroom.
I'm not exactly sure what they did, what was fantasy and teasing, what was real. I only know that the hours we spent touching each other Sunday afternoon and evening were some of the best, most intimate sex we've every had.