The Secret Lives of Emma: Beginnings

by Walker, Natasha

  ‘Hey!’ she said loudly, and then, ‘Boofhead!’

  Nothing. The boy was dead to the world. Jess found this strange. Especially as he had come to meet her as he’d promised. Why fall asleep in the middle of the oval? In a moment of unusual daring she placed a foot at either side of his chest, straddling him, then sat down on his stomach like a naughty little kid.

  The rash act did the trick, he woke but what happened next wasn’t to plan. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, holding her closed lips against his till she gave in and opened them and accepted his kiss and warmed to it.

  Jason barely knew who he was kissing. Emma was everywhere, filling all of his senses. She had been with him in sleep and had woken with him. Jess was there too. Her kiss differed greatly, her scent was raw, her tongue timid and her presence on his body near weightless. She was at least a foot shorter than Emma and of such a slight build that Jason soon realised that he had made a very fortunate mistake.

  Jess was now kissing Jason with the full force of all her suddenly released emotions. She assumed that he had lain a trap for her and she had fallen in. Thank God! she thought. He held her so tightly and his kisses were by no means those of an inexperienced boy. In fact his right hand was gripping her bottom and the other was lost in her hair, holding her mouth to his. The other fact was that he was evidently hard. This she felt unmistakably, for it was pressing against her with evil intent.

  Jason was unwilling to let her from his grip. This accidental turn was further proof of his extraordinary way with women. Emma had been good enough to show him the way and now he could take whom he wanted, when he wanted. And to think how nervous he’d been with Jess in the past. All he had had to do was take her. He was astonished by this revelation. His mind raced ahead to see who else he might have. But he was distracted on his rapid advance by Jess as she pressed herself heavily down against the hard bulge in his school pants. Her kiss became more forceful and Jason was taken in by her and his mind shut down and his body took over. This girl had much to express.

  Though she was technically a virgin Jess was not inexperienced. She had always had boyfriends of a kind and each had pushed her in their own way for more than her peers would allow. She had to be very conscious of the group and those others in her year. Most were happy to make out and then go home to masturbate. She’d only once given a boy help in that and it had been very exciting. The stuff shot out all over her. She had never been as worked up since then. If there was one recurrent fantasy in her young life, that was it.

  But now she felt Jason’s passion rise a level and knew he was determined to take her with him.

  He rolled her onto her back, lying on his side next to her, not breaking their kiss, and ran his hand up and down her inner thigh, brushing the cotton of her exposed knickers on each downward turn.

  His kisses changed too. He slowed her frenetic pace and gently persuaded her to accept a different kind of kiss, one that lingered, one that took note of the sensitivity of their lips and thrilled her like never before. Her whole body tingled. His hand on her thigh was never more welcome. He kissed her like this for ever so long and soon dear Jess was so far gone she accepted without demure the full palm of his hand slipping between her legs, covering her mound.

  How warm his hand felt and how natural that it should feel this way and be where it was. But his kisses! Her whole body seemed to be connected to his lips.

  How hot she felt! She couldn’t restrain a soft tender moan as his fingers pressed softly against her.

  He was a bad boy. He knew what he was doing. And how happy she was that he should.

  An hour later Jason was strolling towards Mosman Junction. He was so hungry and his mood had changed again and was back squarely at open rebellion.

  He lifted his hand to his nose and breathed in the scent left by his new girlfriend. Each finger in turn. The smile on his face was devilish. Nothing would stop him now. He’d have a chicken and gravy roll and hot chips. Fuck dinner, he thought. What violence raged through his body! What power!

  The body and mind of the boy was so exhausted but his ego was tireless and eager to fly.

  When he reached the main road he once again began his new trick of devouring and challenging each and every female he saw.

  Each of his looks was received in a differing light, but incredulous might have been the general tone once he’d passed on. He certainly had a naked, open and utterly sexual look to give. And the incredulity of the women came from the realisation that there was an assumption of their acquiescence in the look. Which, if some of the women were honest with themselves, there was! The bold assumption was not a put-on, it was there, part of his makeup, unmistakable, palpable and thoroughly disarming in its honesty.

  Caught unawares by a bold look from an unexpected quarter, some of the women he passed responded with more spirit than even they knew they had left in them. The young man was too enamoured of this new power to make an inventory of his successes or failures as he strolled and followed up none of the returns of serve. His was an assumption of success, and his was the enviable position, that he could pick or choose.

  The shops were caught in that dusk of retail when late customers hope for extended opening hours and the retailers themselves, aware of the financial benefits of patience, have none to give. Gruff, ill-tempered men in suits manage by monosyllabic instruction to buy the wrong potatoes, a packet of unnecessary batteries, soap, and forget whatever it was their wives specifically asked them to pick up. All the while they make a nuisance of themselves by standing in the wrong place, blocking others, while surreptitiously looking at the photo of the latest starlet on the cover of a trashy magazine or, more specifically, looking at her fake breasts. Then they may try to pay with a cheque for naturally they have no cash, till it is made clear that, yes, they may use their credit card.

  Jason strolled through all this clamour and haste with the simple intention of buying his take-away. He knew well that dinner was waiting for him on his return home, but home was the last place he wanted to head.

  Home for now was a reminder, like school was a reminder, that he was still a boy. These women on the street, the smells on his fingers, the memories of the previous night and the ache in his body were dearer to him because they said – you are a man. The more he thought of home, the stronger the aversion. The explanations he would have to make for his lateness seemed too heavy an obligation. He banished from his mind his mother’s scrutiny, his father’s silence and their combined love for him.

  Up ahead of him, and moving in the same direction as he, a female figure more alluring than any other thus far made her way through the foot traffic. Tall, slender and holding herself straight, she moved quickly and determinedly without losing any of her self-possession. From the back Jason was enthralled, he quickened his pace.

  The woman was wearing backless sandals, clip-clopping along, a loose black skirt that fell below the knee but hung low on her hips, revealing her back dimples, and a tight black singlet top which needed to be pulled down after every step if she wanted to remain decent.

  The woman up ahead seemed not to pay attention to such things. Jason watched her hips swish back and forth with each step, then, as he drew nearer he felt a fool, for the stranger turned into Emma. Now having her so identified, he was astonished that he could have failed to recognise her. Her hair was up. That was it. No. He’d seen her often enough with it up. She was wearing black, that was the difference.

  He followed her into the mini-market.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Emma’s day had been one of idleness, of recovery and of frustrated desire. With every step she took, with every movement of her arms, with every turn of her head she returned to the night before. Her body ached in a good way. She could do nothing unconsciously. Every muscle reminded her of what she’d done. Jason’s hands were still on her. He was still in her. Everything aroused her. Standing at the back door, a fresh breeze blowing her hair, she acknowledged that her night with Jason
had been no minor indiscretion. Fucking the neighbours’ son was an act of defiance. This was not the act of a bored housewife. This was a return to the Emma she had always been. The Emma she knew she should be.

  She called Paul. He said he would be right over.

  As Emma showered and dressed she willed Paul to come quickly. She feared she might change her mind.

  There was a knock at the door. Emma dashed downstairs. There he stood, in the flesh, as handsome as ever. He said nothing and stepped into the house and closed the door.

  He looked her in the eye as though searching for something. His unbroken gaze excited her.

  He knew! He knew! The slightest movement of his eyebrow said as clearly as speech, You’ve been wicked.

  She could hide nothing from Paul. He reached around her and grabbed her backside and drew her to him. He knew what she wanted. He knew how she wanted it. He had been here many times before. He accepted his role.

  He spun her around and bit down on her neck. She pushed her butt into his crotch. He thrust his hand down the front of her jeans. His fingers found her waiting for him. She ground against him.

  Emma was pushed against the wall. He unbuttoned her and drew down her jeans. She reached around and fumbled with his fly. Impatient, he moved her hand aside and released himself. Tearing down her G-string with one hand he gripped himself with the other.

  ‘You’re a very bad girl, Emma,’ he said as he entered her.

  After Paul had gone Emma had a very hot bath. She lay back and turned on the bubbles. Paul’s visit had settled it. She was never going back. She loved David, but she was never going to be entirely his. She would have to lie to him. She would have to deceive. To do otherwise was to deceive herself. In an hour or so Jason would walk through the back door and she would lead him to her marriage bed. She would. Jason adored her. He had come so far in such a short time. The way he had taken her again and again in the early hours of the morning … this was not the boy who had jumped over the fence. Emma knew she was responsible for this change. And now he would come to her and show yet another side to himself. Even with all her experience with men she realised she had no idea what this might be.

  It was now almost five and Jason had not arrived. Emma lounged on the day bed on her balcony. She wrapped a blanket around her and tried his mobile again. It went straight to messages. She cancelled the call.

  It hadn’t crossed her mind that he wouldn’t turn up. She was shocked. She couldn’t help but feel hurt. She tried to remember what he had said when he left her at dawn. She had been exhausted, she remembered. She couldn’t recall what he had said. She did recall that he had been willing to go on. She had said no. The temperature had plummeted and they had been wrapped in the blankets. At her no, he had stood in naked perfection. He had raised his arms in the blue light of dawn, stretching out towards the sky, and would have roared like some beast had it been possible. He looked like a conqueror. Even then, after hours of fucking, his cock seemed unwilling to expire. It hung thick, caught between two worlds.

  He had then reached down, taking her hand, and pulled her upright. It was he who had led her to the back door and had sent her off to bed. She had locked the back door and watched him as he had picked up his clothes and walked, still nude, towards the side passage.

  He hadn’t said he would come to her the following afternoon, she now remembered. But she had assumed he would.

  As daylight waned and her patience ended she decided to raise herself from disappointment. She had nothing in the house for dinner. She would head up to the shops.

  After parking illegally in the evening rush hour she’d walked briskly to the supermarket and on arrival had realised she had no desire to cook or to shop or to even breathe.

  Jason had followed Emma in, making sure she did not see him. The mini-market was deep and narrow with only three poorly lit aisles stacked to the high ceiling with boxes atop of the shelves. Lines of disgruntled shoppers stood waiting their turn at the checkout, juggling necessary and unnecessary items in their arms.

  Jason watched from just inside the door as Emma negotiated her way through them, lifting a basket from the stack as she went. He passed by the checkout counters and hovered at the end of the first aisle to see how far Emma intended to go.

  He now knew what he wanted to do to her. The skirt she was wearing had been his inspiration.

  Jason followed her as she made her way to the very back of the mini-market. Rounding the corner he found Emma at the freezers holding one of the doors open. Her back was to him. He could hear people around the corner. Would Mrs Emma Benson approve of any public display of affection? There was no time to reason it out.

  Emma was having trouble deciding what she wanted. One of the checkout girls had looked a lot like Jason’s Jess. And this had started Emma thinking about her. Jason would go to Jess with all that she had taught him. It was unavoidable. It was even possible he did so this afternoon. This thought was painful to Emma. It tasted bitter. Would he do such a thing? And then she remembered how he had taken her that morning. He had exulted in his newborn powers.

  These thoughts were interrupted. While looking for frozen peas she felt her skirt rise and then felt a warm hand smooth swiftly along her thigh before coming to rest between her slightly parted legs.

  She spun around quickly, ready to hit out at her attacker but found Jason in his school uniform staring at her with a frightened expression.

  ‘Fucking hell, Jason!’ She started hitting his chest with open palms. ‘What the fuck!’

  Jason was devastated by this reaction. He took a few steps backwards. A man came around the corner and walked between them. He eyed both with interest before moving on.

  ‘Have you gone mad?’ whispered Emma. ‘What the hell are you thinking? You scared the crap out of me.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ said Jason truthfully.

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’ Emma picked up the basket she had placed on the floor. ‘I can’t be seen with you. This is insane. You have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not going.’ He stepped closer to her, his confidence returning. What right had she to dismiss him?

  ‘Go, before somebody sees us.’

  ‘I’ll go if you do something for me.’

  A middle-aged woman rounded the corner. Emma knew her face. She worked in the bank. She opened the freezer door beside Emma. They both waited until she had moved on.

  ‘Why didn’t you come this afternoon?’

  ‘Got detention for swearing at a teacher,’ he lied. ‘Let me touch you.’

  ‘No!’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, coming even closer. He took hold of the hem of her skirt. Anyone rounding the corner now would have no doubt what was going on.

  ‘Not here.’

  ‘Yes, here.’

  ‘No, Jason.’

  ‘Then give me something. Give me your undies. Take them off for me.’

  Emma couldn’t think. He was exciting her. She pulled the skirt from his fingers.

  ‘I’m not going until you give them to me.’

  ‘Will you come to me tonight?’

  ‘I could take you here and now. It’s all I want to do from now on.’

  Emma hesitated. She wanted to give them to him. She was trembling. She could hear voices. A group of teenage girls rounded the corner. They were chatting loudly. Behind their backs, as they passed by, Emma quickly lifted her skirt, pulled down her undies, stepped out of them and scrunched the tiny G-string in her hand.

  Jason had watched her thinking only of her naked pussy. He was rock hard when she handed him the warm bundle. He raised it to his nose and then pushed it into his pocket.

  ‘Now go.’

  With that, he rushed off.

  Emma waited a minute or two then followed. She had been so aroused by her young lover’s confidence. He was bold. Imperious. He had shown her he was willing to break the rules. She had been so frightened when she felt his hand touching her. All of her adolesce
nt fears had returned. But as soon as she saw his face she had marvelled at his audacity. He hadn’t pressed home his advantage. He had won her G-string. He might have taken more.

  Having taken four or five steps down the middle aisle, Emma heard Jason’s mother, Anne. Horrified, she stopped and listened.

  ‘We agreed to the plan. You said you would keep to it.’

  ‘I arranged to meet Jess before I agreed to your plan. I just forgot.’

  ‘Jason, it’s not good enough. We’ve worked too hard.’

  ‘I’ll do twice as much tomorrow.’

  ‘You’ve lost a full day. You can’t do this to us now. You’ll have plenty of time to waste after your exams.’

  ‘My time with Jess was not a waste. I need to have a life, too. If you keep pressuring me I’ll just give up.’

  Emma had heard enough.

  Jason was stuck talking to his mother while she shopped. They had not come across Emma as they did so. Jason was really hoping Emma had left and had not overheard him tell his mother he had been with Jess. He knew it wouldn’t sound good. What a fool he had been to get off the bus. If he had gone straight home he would have spent the afternoon fucking Emma. He felt exhausted just thinking about the consequence of that one stupid act. Now he was carrying his mother’s shopping basket.

  He diverted his anger at himself towards his mother. She was always interfering. He was over being the good son. He was over it. He’d been good, he’d been predictable, and where had that got him?

  Only five minutes ago when his hand had lifted Emma’s skirt he had been shaking. When his hand touched her between her legs the blood pounded in his temples. Her sudden and violent reaction had frightened and excited him in an extraordinary way. Her blows against his chest accentuated his already heightened sense of the indecency of his actions.