Lost and Found: Book One of the Emi Lost & Found Series

by Lori L. Otto

  “What are we doing?” Emi asks after getting out of the shower. Her skin is flushed from the hot water. She’s wearing her flannel pajama pants and an old, tattered NYU hooded sweatshirt that I’ve had for years… since her freshman year there, probably. I don’t know what Emi loves about that shirt… but she wears it every chance she gets.

  “Craft day, of course,” I smile. “Why did you ever give me that hoodie if you were always going to wear it?”

  “It was free and it was too big for me. And you never wore it!”

  “First, it’s too collegiate for my style. And secondly, it always reminded me of you,” I shrug my shoulders and smile. She smiles back.

  “I see,” she jokes. “Much too pedestrian for a Parson’s alumni.” I roll my eyes at her comment. “So… ” she continues, turning her attention back to the art project, “Jen is gonna love you for this,” she says, “Ornaments?”

  “Painted ornaments. No crayon and paper bullshit for this one. Oops… sorry.”

  “Nice, Nate-Nate,” Emi says in a child-like voice. Clara sneezes again.

  “That’s the third sneeze from your little niece-monster,” I tell Emi as I grab a box of tissues and take them to the table.

  “Hmmm… ” she says, contemplative, feeling her niece’s forehead. “Maybe a little warm. How do you feel Clara?”

  “Okay,” she says. “Can we paint now?”

  “Of course. What colors are we going to paint with today?”

  “Pink and purple and yellow… and glitter,” she declares.

  “Perfect.”

  After a few hours, we finish decorating the ornaments for Emi’s parents and set them aside to dry.

  “Clara, let’s get you to bed,” Emi says. Her niece had been growing restless and fussy over the past hour, her sneezing bouts increasing in number.

  “Should we call Jen?” I ask.

  “No, we can handle this. I think it’s just a cold. She can kill me tomorrow. Can you put her to bed while I go get her some medicine? Maybe read her one of her books?”

  “Of course. Ready, Clara-Bee?”

  “Ready, Nate-Nate,” she yawns and sniffles. Emi kisses me goodbye with a quick peck as I pick up her niece and carry her into the spare bedroom, pulling the sheets back and tucking her in.

  “My Barbie,” she says, pointing to her bag. I find her doll inside, as well as a handful of books. “Which book?”

  “Cinderella,” she says.

  “Cinderella, it is.” I settle in next to her, tissues in one hand, book in the other, and begin to read from the pages of her storybook. She falls asleep quickly, before Emi gets back.

  “Ten bucks says she’ll do it,” I wager her as she comes in the door.

  “Is she asleep?”

  “Yep.”

  “How long has she been out?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “You’re on. She normally does it right when she falls asleep.”

  “You’re goin’ down,” I taunt her, raising my eyebrows at her.

  Emi and I both stand silent, waiting patiently by the bedroom door, watching Clara sleep.

  “I don’t think–”

  “Shhh!” I interrupt. “Hear it?”

  “No,” Emi says.

  “She definitely is, come closer.” We both move to about a foot away from the bed, listening to the funny buzzing sound coming from her small lips. “There’s our little Clara-Bee,” I gloat as we both giggle.

  “That is so funny,” Emi says. “I wonder if she’ll still do that when all her permanent teeth grow in.”

  “God I hope so,” I tell her. “It never gets old. Now pay up.”

  “But I don’t have ten dollars,” Emi whines playfully.

  “Well, Emi, what do you have?”

  “I have all night,” she teases.

  “So do I,” I tell her, picking her up and carrying her to the living room. “I guess we both win.”

  “If you consider getting to second base winning,” Emi groans.

  “What does that mean?” I whisper, sitting down and pulling her in my lap, kissing her neck.

  “You know… ”

  “Well, Emi, your niece-monster is here, so that poses some obstacles.”

  “You wouldn’t let us even if she wasn’t,” she pouts.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” I agree. “But trust me, I will make this worth your while, I promise. You will not be disappointed… but you have to be very quiet,” I say softly, nodding to the guest room behind me and pulling the sweatshirt off of her to reveal a very thin undershirt.

  “It’s not fair for me to get all the enjoyment,” she tries to reason with me, tracing the waistband of my jeans. I put my hands on her hips and pull her against me, push her away. “I want you to get something out of it, too.”

  “Oh, trust me, Em, I do. I love making you feel good.”

  “That’s not the same. Mmmm… ” she moans softly.

  “This is my penance. Stop being the devil on my shoulder and let me do my time in peace.”

  “I forgive you,” she whispers before pressing her lips forcefully against mine, pressing her hips against me just as forcefully.

  “Ohhh… ” I sigh at the friction as it builds, closing my eyes as her motions quicken.

  “You’re not… watching… ” she says between breaths, my hands tightly caressing her breasts as they react to my touch. I open my lust-filled eyes, watching her body move gracefully over mine. I fight the urge to lift her shirt, claim one or both as my own with my hungry lips. I’ve had careful limits… but this one gives way today.

  “Shit,” I sigh just before my hand grabs the end of the shirt, pulls it up quickly… just before my mouth closes around one of her nipples.

  “Nate, god, I’ve missed that.”

  “I have, too, baby,” I answer, my lips moving to her other breast. “Emi,” I correct myself.

  “Oh god,” Emi begins. “Oh god.” She gets louder.

  “Clara, remember, shhhh,” I warn her.

  “She’s still asleep,” Emi answers, the view of her niece a straight-shot into the next room “Oh, Nate… ” She pulls my mouth to hers. “I’m coming,” I think she murmurs into my mouth, the vibrations of her lips sending shockwaves throughout my body. The tremors continue with each moan, as she’s careful to keep her lips on mine to suppress her beautiful sounds.

  “Oh, god, Em,” I say back, feeling a familiar tightening in my abdomen that I haven’t experienced– with her– since my birthday. “Fuck,” I whisper, her hips fast against mine, the pleasure consuming us both wholly. She finally pulls her lips away, out of breath, but keeps her body close, wraps her arms around me, feeling each shudder that rolls through me. I hold her against me, my head pressed against her chest, so close to her pounding heart.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks as we wait for our breathing to return to normal.

  I laugh quietly, tracing her neckline with my nose. “Wow, um… no… but I need a shower now.” I nudge her a little, but she stays in my lap, her hands gently caressing my face.

  “Thank you… for letting go.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I admit. “You, Emi, were too much for my willpower tonight. You are so sexy.” I pull her shirt down slowly, granting my curious thumbs one more gentle pass over her breasts.

  Quiet sneezes come from the next room.

  “Anni-Emi?” Clara calls out. Emi hurriedly hops off the couch, straightens her clothes and goes to her niece.

  “I’m gonna shower, Em,” I tell her as I pass by. Under the stream of hot water, I realize how much progress I’ve made. I was pretty much in control, in my most out-of-control state. There’s hope for me yet, I laugh to myself.

  I peek in the guest room on my way back to the living room, but neither Emi nor Clara are there… not in the living room either. I peek around the corner and see Clara sleeping– no buzzing– in the middle of my bed, Emi rolled over on her side watching her and giving me an apologetic smile.<
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  “She’s not feeling well,” she says.

  “It’s fine,” I smile back. “I can sleep on the couch.”

  “No,” she whispers. “There’s plenty of room. She can share my side.” She pulls her niece closer to her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I gave her some medicine, so she should sleep through the night.”

  “Okay,” I say, tucking my girlfriend and the cutest niece-monster under the covers. I find another blanket and pull it over myself, climbing in on my side.

  “Love ya, Em,” I tell her, straining across my large bed to kiss her.

  She holds my face to hers, delivering the sweetest of kisses. “Love ya, Nate.”

  ~ * ~

  “You are horrible, Emi!” I say to her after she climbs on top of me one afternoon while we’re watching television. “Annoying, even.”

  “Tell me what you got me, and I won’t take my shirt off,” she bargains, holding the edges of her sweater. “I need to know if what I got you for Christmas is good enough.” She eyes the gifts under the small tree we picked out a few weeks ago. It was just one of the many outings we chose to do as a distraction… instead of being alone together when things got a little too heavy. We’d taken day trips, exploring every corner of the state and a few of the bordering ones. Even though I hated driving, it really seemed to be the best way for us to just talk and enjoy each other’s company. I was always preoccupied with getting us from point A to point B safely. Sex was pretty far from my mind when I was driving.

  Five weeks. We’ve gone five weeks without sex. And I’m ready.

  “I’m not going to tell you,” I laugh. “You’ll find out in two days!”

  “Is the little one jewelry? Did you get me more jewelry? Because you’re too extravagant with jewelry.”

  “I am? Well, I can take the necklace back–”

  “No, you can’t,” she laughs. “That’ll buy me a car when we break up,” she jokes.

  “Not funny,” I tell her. “And for the record, it’s not jewelry.”

  “Why can’t we open them tonight?” she asks. “It’s Christmas Eve. In my family we always open presents on Christmas Eve.”

  “No, you don’t. If that were true, you’d be with your family right now and not here, trying to seduce me.”

  “Well, we just postponed it this year so Chris and Anna can celebrate with her parents… it’s her family’s tradition to celebrate today.”

  “Blame it on the new girl,” I tell her. “Besides, Emi, we have always had our own tradition of celebrating the day after. I like doing that. It makes the holiday last longer.”

  She glares at me with a pout, then quickly removes her heavy sweater, revealing a lacy camisole.

  “Is it hot in here?” she says, rubbing against me. I hold her hips still momentarily and stare back. “Or is it just me?”

  “Definitely just you,” I say running my fingertips along the underside of her breasts, my eyes leaving hers to focus elsewhere… to watch the physical reaction happening under her shirt as I touch her. “Where’d you get this thing?”

  “That little boutique on the corner. The sales lady assured me I would get anything I wanted if I wore it.”

  I roll my eyes at her, frustrated at her persistence. “Emi… ”

  The blustery winter wind and snow were our deterrents today from our typical distraction. I wasn’t taking the car out in this, but I was thankful that Emi braved the weather to come over and spend the afternoon with me anyway. I loved having her here, but it was getting difficult to say no to her advances. I wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Will you start a fire?” she asks.

  “You just said you were hot. Put your sweater back on, silly.”

  “I want a fire,” she pleads. “It’s romantic.”

  I roll my eyes at her request, but give in without a fight. “Get up.” I help to move her off my lap and onto the couch.

  “Thanks, Nate,” she sings to me sweetly.

  I offer her a drink after starting the fire and get a glass of wine for her, a bottled water for me. She sits on the floor, scooting closer to the fireplace to warm up, choosing to not put her sweater back on… always so impractical. I smile as I watch her.

  As the fire grows, the colors of it cast beautiful shadows on Emi, her red hair especially. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat. The vision is breathtaking, so much so that I want to document it, have it forever.

  “Hey, Emi,” I say, breaking her gaze away from the fire.

  “Hey, Nate,” she answers.

  “I… you look so beautiful sitting there… can I paint you?”

  She shrugs her shoulders and answers, “I don’t care. If you really want to.”

  “I really want to.” I go into the guest room and gather my easel, canvas, drop cloth and paint and set up across the room. I survey the image and walk over to move the couch out of the way. I grab the comforter off the bed and spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace.

  “Would you like a pillow?” I ask her as she crawls on the blanket.

  Again, she shrugs. “You’re the artist. Pose me.”

  “Really? I can?”

  “Sure,” she laughs.

  “Take off your shirt.” The adrenaline begins coursing through my veins so quickly that it comes out as an order. “I mean, would you mind?”

  “That’s what I was trying to do all along,” she smiles, pulling the shirt over her head and setting it behind her. I kneel down in front of her as she lies on her side, her elbow bent atop the pillow, her head resting on her hand. I mess up her hair slightly, sweeping a few strands across her forehead but careful not to cover either of her beautiful eyes. I kiss her softly as I unfasten her bra with one hand and help her out of the garment. I lean back and look at her again.

  “So beautiful.” I unbutton and unzip her jeans, opening the flap slightly to reveal her pink, lace panties. I run my fingers along them and inhale deeply. I drag my fingers along her curves.

  “Should I put makeup on?” she asks.

  “God, no,” I tell her, standing up. “You don’t need it, Emi.”

  I stand back behind the easel and look at her once more. “Perfect. Let me know if you get uncomfortable.”

  “Should I smile?”

  “No,” I tell her, opening a tube of red paint and putting a dab on the palette pad. “Just look into the fire… part your lips slightly… tilt your head down just a little. Yeah, right there. Oh, wow… ”

  “I better not see this in a gallery someday.”

  “Are you kidding? This will be my ticket to my new car when we break up.” She throws the bra at me, and it lands right in the freshly laid out paint. “Good job,” I tell her. “That may not come out. Red rarely does.”

  “Call it a souvenir,” she says. “I didn’t like that one anyway.” I hang it on the tip of the easel, letting it drape over the back.

  I can barely tear my eyes from her body to tend to the canvas.

  Her strawberry blonde hair dances with flecks of orange from the fire. It hangs just to her shoulders, styled naturally today, just slightly wavy. When I touched it, it was soft and silky, so feather-light in my fingers.

  Her milky skin, smooth, porcelain. Not a blemish on her. The only interruption of her fair complexion was the pink in her cheeks, which I was now uncertain whether it was caused by the heat or by the fact that she was lying, half-naked, on display, for me.

  Her green eyes, always pale, look a translucent brown as she gazes into the fire. She flutters her lashes quickly, tries to hold her eyes open.

  “Just be natural,” I encourage her softly. “It’s okay to blink.”

  She smiles and blushes deeper, glancing only briefly in my direction. Small dimples form on either side of her pink-tinted lips. The middle part of her upper lip slopes gently, evenly… Cupid’s bow. That’s what it’s called. I remember my mother talking about her plastic surgery one day. The term stuck in my head. I close my e
yes momentarily and imagine my tongue tracing her Cupid’s bow. Fuck, this is turning out to be more erotic than I had thought it would be. I had intended a scholarly study of her body, her beauty, but she’s just turning me on.

  The fire apparently isn’t enough to warm her, as evident in her pronounced nipples sitting atop her pert breasts, the perfect size to fill my palms. I want to touch her.

  I take a drink of water before continuing, trying to focus, to balance the lust with the love. After a few deep breaths, I continue painting, putting as much detail as my eyes can see into every stroke. I want to remember this moment, this day… this woman… forever.

  “Okay, I think I need to move,” Emi says as I’m putting the final strokes on her jeans. Her eyes plead with mine.

  “I’m finished,” I tell her. “Go ahead.”

  “Can I see?” she asks, lying on her back on the comforter, stretching her limbs.

  “No.” I tell her walking briskly to her and kneeling down beside her. “Not yet.” She reaches up for me, pulls my head to hers for a kiss. I pull away, looking into her eyes, now the familiar green again. I put my hand over her heart to feel it pounding, then move my hand down to caress her breast before kissing it, taking her nipple into my mouth and sucking gently.

  She moans softly as my kisses travel down her body. “Thank you,” I say to her as I grab the ankles of her jeans and tug lightly. She helps to push them over her hips and down her legs. I throw them onto the couch across the room.

  “I’m cold,” she whispers, smiling.

  “You won’t be for long,” I tell her, smirking back at her as I take the sides of her lace panties under my fingers and pull them down.

  “Nate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you make love to me now?”

  “No,” I answer, kissing her between her legs. “Not yet.”

  “When?” she barely manages to say as she exhales quickly.

  “You’re going to spoil all your presents, my sweet Emi.” The conversation between us ends there. I bask in her sweet sounds as my tongue travels to her favorite destinations. In my head, though, we’re making love. In my vision, when she calls my name, I’m enveloped inside her. Instead of her hands tugging lightly on my hair, they’re wrapped tightly around my body, holding on for dear life.