Emma

by Bradley Stoke

  The television offices were not as welcoming a place as Charlotte had imagined when she arrived with Emma and Maisie and hurried along the corridors with them. She had chosen to go nude as that was the way that Emma always went to work, but having worked in a supportive naturist environment for so long she was unprepared for the lecherous stares of the men they passed en route to where the filming was to take place. Emma found Charlotte a comfortable chair to sit in to wait in the film studio, while she and Maisie got prepared in the make-up rooms. Charlotte sighed to herself as she watched the naked body of her friend wind through the television cameras, cables and lights to catch up with Maisie who was indolently kicking the wall with her expensive trainers, the only clothes she ever wore these days.

  The studio was a cluttered space, full of mysterious equipment and men and women who were handling it. In the centre of it all, and looking bizarrely homely, was an open space in which there was a very large bed and a voluminous sofa. Behind the furniture and the dangling recording paraphernalia was a colourful backdrop with the programme’s title, Sex and Sensibility, displayed in a restrained style at relevant points. When Maisie originally mentioned the name Charlotte had assumed that the programme was to be a sex dramatisation of a famous Jane Austen novel, but she came to realise that the programme had pretensions of being a serious series reviewing sex issues in modern society: an identity which caused Emma to laugh in a hollow sardonic way. Charlotte sat patiently, ignoring the stares of the studio technicians by burying her head in the newspaper she’d brought along with her.

  Finally, the filming was due to start, at which point the studio became less full of the technicians with tape and screwdrivers, and more full of camera operators, sound recordists and finally a group of non-technical people who sat in the much more comfortable chairs next to her. Emma sat beside her where she silently and gratefully took Charlotte’s hand in hers and gripped it tightly for as much comfort as it could give. Maisie stood to one side where she chatted idly to a boy not much older than her. Except for the three of them, everyone was fully clothed and indeed the make-up applied to Emma’s skin and face made her feel even more naked in comparison.

  The object of this filming was to organise the backdrop to the credits at the beginning and end of each programme that unsurprisingly would feature the two co-presenters, Emma and Maisie, making love to each other. The entire exercise (which would take several hours) would be to film the two of them indulging in explicit sex against various backdrops, using assorted props and indulging in innumerable variations. The director seemed to believe that credits featuring such an intimate woman-child relationship in such full detail would somehow be sensitively appropriate to a series that sought to dispel many of the myths and misconceptions surrounding certain taboo sexual activities. Emma’s own sardonic opinion was that it would just make the programme look like every other sex programme, with just a little more pandering for the more obscure sexual predilection.

  Charlotte had often seen Emma and Maisie making love, and indeed on occasion she’d even been persuaded to film them together on the home video-recorder, but it was quite a different matter to see the two of them flood-lit under such an intimidating array of bright lights surrounded by men and women she’d never seen before, occasionally taking instruction from prompts flashed to her on auto cues. The exercise was rather bereft of intimacy despite the quite obvious fact that the two lovers were enmeshed in their lovemaking now as least as much as at any other time. Of the two of them, it was clearly Emma who was the most anxious and nervous, with Maisie taking the upper hand in directing her older lover’s attentions. And it was Maisie who was the first to make use of the dildo provided and use that to enter Emma’s cunt while a studio cameraman positioned himself on the stage to get a close view of the action while the little girl pushed her slim figure backwards and forwards between Emma’s legs.

  After a while, perhaps nearly half an hour, Emma became rather less nervous in her rôle and Charlotte breathed more easily as the lovemaking became more relaxed. There was a more comfortable flow of her movements, becoming more like that of Maisie’s, culminating after a few minutes in the first of the many orgasms of the session. These orgasms, to which Charlotte was now rather accustomed at home, where it forever punctuated the mass of female lovemaking, seemed to excite the previously morose director who started making notes in a hardbacked notebook.

  Eventually, the two girls had exhausted all the possibilities of location, prop and activity offered to them, and the session came to an anticlimactic end with the technicians dispersing, Emma rushing off to the make-up room and Maisie chatting idly to the director and those around him. Charlotte was relieved for Maisie’s sake that she hadn’t resorted to her more violent sexual behaviour and the two came out with only the bruises of prolonged grinding groins and the accidental scratches of fingernails.

  Charlotte sat waiting for Emma wondering not just how the hours of videotape would be edited down to the two or three minutes of credits for which they were filmed, but how much Emma’s new career would change her. She felt convinced that having such public sex for the first time was akin to when she’d lost her virginity. Now that this barrier was broached she would live in a different world of references. She also wondered how Emma really felt about her experience. She evidently enjoyed making love to Maisie (her love for the girl was both deep and sincere) but how much pleasure, if any, did she get from making love for the camera? And in turn for an audience of innumerable people she’d never known and would never meet.

  It was inevitable for a programme with presenters like Emma and Maisie such as Sex and Sensibility that the first edition should feature an interview with Delia Cook. As one of the researchers commented when given the brief to organise the interview, it was not so much an interview with Delia Cook as “yet another interview”. The principal difference in this interview, Emma was not so pleased to find out was that not only would there be sex between her and the stout authoress, but her beloved co-presenter would be expected to indulge in sex with one or other of Delia Cook’s children. However, having been a keen researcher for so many years, she prepared herself for the interview by re-reading Sex and Family Matters amongst all the other literature she was given.

  Part of her homework was to watch videos of previous interviews Delia Cook had given to examine her previous sexual activities on the screen. Except for her relative bulk, her interviewee was quite the same as any sex star ever interviewed with the same unlikely stamina and predilection for all sex. To meet her in the flesh, however, was quite different as Emma was to find when she, Maisie and a small film crew arrived at the authoress’s very grand house in the outer suburbs of the city.

  The Delia Cook who opened the door to her naked guests was naked herself with the complete tan of someone who rarely rests partly dressed in the sun. Other than that, she seemed much more an ordinary person than Emma expected. She certainly couldn’t be described as particularly beautiful. Away from the glare of the camera she lost much of her charisma. She invited the two girls and the two members of the film crew into her very homely living room, chatting all the time about their journey there and the weather. In the same room, sitting on an armchair, wearing a tee-shirt and shorts was a young girl a couple of years older than Maisie whom Emma immediately recognised as Jennifer from the photographs in Delia Cook’s book. She didn’t jump up when everyone came in, but looked at the crew with curiosity while fiddling with a piece of squidgy plastic in her hands.

  “Say hello to these people, Jenny,” ordered Delia Cook kindly. “You don’t want them to think you’re rude.” The girl sullenly greeted them and returned her eyes to her lump of plastic. “You must forgive my daughter,” the mother continued to everyone. “She’s actually quite thrilled. She’s never been on television in such a starring rôle before. Indeed, before your fabulous new show there just weren’t any programmes which would be willing to film her in any kind of action. And don’t worry, Emma dear, I’
ve heard about your tastes. Neither my husband or son have been invited into this film session; although my son in particular was ever so keen to get to know the lovely Maisie that much better!”

  The talk aspect of the interview was to actually occupy rather less than a quarter of the half-hour programme, but Delia’s replies to Emma and Maisie’s questions were very full and practised, providing detailed accounts of the sexual adventures she and her family had, peppered with homely and sensible advice regarding the less glamorous health and safety aspects of the practices she advocated. Emma was pleased to see that Maisie asked her questions with a maturity and confidence which made her seem much older than her thirteen years. She was just as capable as Emma to elaborate on her questions and to ask other questions that led on naturally from previous ones. It seemed such a shame, Emma reflected, that so many of Maisie’s questions and answers would end up on the cutting room floor.

  As part of the interview, and as a kind of novelty item to signpost the kind of serious and sensible series Sex and Sensibility was to be, Delia Cook gave advice to Emma and Maisie about sexual behaviour appropriate to a couple such as them. She positioned the two lovers physically with her podgy hands and demonstrated in great detail to Emma, the camera crew and ultimately millions of viewers, aspects of Maisie’s smooth young vagina that few would suspect and that Emma had uncritically enjoyed. In the process, Delia squeezed and stroked and tweaked it in a way she obviously found very stimulating. Then with what seemed practised grace, Delia guided the activity into much more physical lovemaking.

  The transition from aural to sexual intercourse took the film crew by surprise, as they anxiously jostled into position with the appropriate selection of camera and audio equipment, as Emma started licking around the smooth exterior of Maisie’s cunt, allowing almost all her tongue on occasion to delve inside its opening. Then Delia joined in, taking control of both Maisie’s clitoris and Emma’s arse as it stuck out behind her.

  “Come on, Jenny!” her mother cajoled her daughter who with no more prompting pulled off her tee-shirt to reveal by the small bush of fluffy hair underneath that she’d already taken off her knickers. She paraded selfconsciously in front of the inquisitive glare of the camera, before joining her mother and Emma in stimulating Maisie’s crotch. She was a little older than the photographs in Delia Cook’s book, and consequently had a more mature body, already showing prominent breasts and enough puppy fat to suggest that she might not remain slim all her life. She soon directed her lips away from Maisie’s crotch, following Emma’s busy tongue into her mouth and soon the two of them were making love separately from Delia and Maisie.

  Throughout the rest of the lovemaking in this interview, Emma got the distinct impression that it was Delia who was directing the activity rather than her, the supposed presenter and interviewer. It was Delia who ensured she had enough explicit sex with her daughter - including anal and vaginal penetration with vegetables and dildos - to dispel any doubts regarding the intimacy of their relationship. It was she who persuaded Jennifer to have more sex with Maisie and rather less with Emma (which she seemed to prefer). It was she who sensed Emma’s discomfort in the role of sex interviewer to ensure that she could escape from the constant gaze of the camera and watch the activity from a distance.

  It was also she who, when Emma and Maisie felt exhausted with the lovemaking, persuaded the camera crew to accompany her daughter and her to another room where they could film more incestuous sex, only this time with the male members of the Cook family. She had assessed Emma as someone who didn’t particularly enjoy the sight and suggestion of male sexuality. She also realised that although Maisie was one who was enthusiastic about being fucked by her son, Kevin, or her husband, it was an activity which would be more likely to upset Emma. She also recognised, though, that it was for incest and child sex that the interview had taken place at all and if she was to retain her position as the high priestess of such activity it was best to allow Sex and Sensibility to film exactly what they wanted.

  Emma and Maisie were left lying in a heap of sweaty naked flesh on the Cooks’ large pale blue carpet, gasping and panting with exhaustion. Droplets of salty sweat dripped off Emma’s eyebrows onto her cheeks to join a more general flow towards her mouth where she could still taste Jennifer’s vaginal juices and her mother’s saliva. She looked at Maisie, who had stood up and was now nosing around the living room: looking at the homely framed pictures, the naked statuary and countryside scenes. And more particularly at the selection of juvenile compact discs that Jennifer had stacked by the stereo system.

  “Just listen to that!” laughed Maisie pointing to the ceiling from above which passionate lovemaking could be heard. There was the thud and rattle of beds accompanied by guttural cries from both men and women. “They just don’t know how to stop!”

  “No, they don’t,” admitted Emma, who, always the pragmatist, was already considering how they would edit the quite considerable material that would have been filmed today and if this meant postponing the planned item on novel Cuban birth control methods.

  Chapter XXVII

  Amna dreaded the day, but it finally came, when she was to have her first day working on the set of Hot Asian Lovers. She arranged to meet Susan at her flat, so, for Amna, she got up quite early and took the bus across town to the block of apartments opposite her parents’ shop. She prayed while waiting for a prompt reply on the intercom that there would be no time for her family would see her standing there, and fortunately nobody did. She was dressed in just the underwear she usually wore around Aunt Salim’s home, highly conscious that whatever she should do she mustn’t unbutton the overcoat she wore from fear of revealing her pubic hair or the breasts that only with effort she’d managed to keep hidden. Taking Susan’s advice she’d plied plenty of red lipstick onto her nipples, but couldn’t see the point of doing a similar job with flesh-coloured lipstick around the opening of her vagina. Nobody would be able to see anything through the thick mass of her pubic glory.

  When she reached the flat, she found the door had been left thoughtfully ajar and was greeted by the girl whom she’d spoken to on the intercom. It was Maisie wearing just a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a large dildo strapped around her buttocks which protruded rather prominently through the unbuttoned flies. Amna didn’t know it, but Maisie had been rather taken by an interview she and Emma had with a community of women who proudly termed themselves Dildo Dykes. These were girls who practised the fashion of wearing dildos wherever they went. This was meant as a statement of their rejection of the male ethos of feminine modesty and also as an unambiguous statement of their dyke-hood. It was also a statement, as the very chatty crop-headed interviewee had made clear, that as Dildo Dykes they were “always ready to fuck!” This was a sentiment that particularly attracted her, although it offended Emma’s own views as to the impurity of wearing even as few clothes as that.

  Amna had no views or understanding of women who wore dildos. She thought it rather ugly and disgusting. She’d often seen girls on the underground and in record shops with dildos sticking provocatively through the flies of their shorts, trousers or skirts. Or even without any clothes at all to otherwise disguise their lower regions. She had a vague idea that it might have some meaning or significance, but it was the femininity of women that she found attractive and this seemed to rather negate that.

  “You’re here to see Susan, aren’t you?” smiled the little girl, stroking her smooth chest.

  “It’s my first day at work,” Amna admitted.

  “Your first day ever?” Amna nodded. “I remember my first day of fucking on the screen. It was heavenly! It was gorgeous. The men are so good! They just keep fucking and fucking. I don’t know where they get their energy from! You’ll like it for sure. Here,” she smiled wickedly, “let’s see your body.”

  Amna nervously complied, feeling that she could scarcely refuse in front of a girl who was so accustomed to seeing naked women. She unbuttoned her overcoat and
parted it revealing her nylon underwear.

  “Golly! You’re very hairy aren’t you! But you’ve got nice tits.” She leaned up to squeeze one. “It’s so lovely and firm. I’d love to fuck you whenever you want.”

  Amna didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the sort of thing she ever hoped to hear from her younger sisters, but she assumed that for sex actresses there was a totally different moral and ethical order. If she wanted to get to know Susan better she’d have to get to know and understand it however much it contradicted all that her parents had ever inculcated in her.

  “Let’s see Susan,” announced Maisie, pushing open the door to a bedroom which disclosed Susan and Josephine making love to each other. Susan’s mouth was joined with Josephine’s and both had their fingers probing deep inside the other’s vagina. Susan looked up at Amna and Maisie, sweat pouring off her face and down over her shoulders. Amna shuddered with passion and guilt as she looked at the girl’s smooth white body and her tiny nipples while the taller Josephine obscured the sight of Susan’s crotch by her wobbling buttocks.

  “Why hello… Amna… dearest!” gasped Susan in the throes of passion. Amna smiled shyly, not at all sure what to say.

  “Do you want to join in?” asked Maisie sweetly putting one of her thin arms around Amna’s upper thighs.