Arthur Alexander - Emily_s Lips

With a finger, the woman gathered the rest of his sperm and dipped it between her lips.

Emily did not witness a cool and fragrant dawn. In fact, she slept so profoundly through the early calling of birds that when at last she began to stir, she had lost all track of time. Rapturously warm, she rolled one slow eye above the pillows, apprehended the fact that sun stormed through her windows, and tumbled bac k down into a half-sleep filled with soft and sliding images whose detail she cared little about.

Some time passed away.

Then, as last night, music came to her. But this was a fresher, more obvious music, that of an harmonica running through a series of folk melodies. The tunes evinced her childhood within her, and she came more fully from sleep. She stretched hugely, making her spine creak with the pleasure of it. Ah, what a day!

Standing to one side of the window to shield her nakedness, she opened the latch and swung the casement wide. Immediately, she was bathed in soft and vivid air.

Below her a young man was leaning in a relaxed manner against the trunk of a shade tree. He was dressed in riding habit, and he played now into a trilling four-bar blues. He was not especially handsome, but a broad and sun-tanned face was the sort which made one feel good. Evidently a companionable and pleasant person.

And rather good with that mouth harp. As she watched him play, a young woman came into view. She rode a beautiful grey quarterhorse and led an Appaloosa.

"Larry," she called.

Larry broke off and slipped the instrument into a shirt pocket. He and the Appaloosa seemed to know one another, and he whispered in her ear while stroking her neck.

Then, sitting well, he urged her into a trot and disappeared from view. The girl, a pretty blonde, had to wheel her grey in order to follow him, and Emily's breath caught in her throat as the face passed by. It was, of course, the girl from the couch last night.

Emily sat heavily upon the edge of her bed. She was smitten by the recollection of what she had witnessed in the darkness of the library. And not only of what had occurred above her that really was none of her business-but of what sort of reaction she had had! How could she have lain there and masturbated? What was wrong with her? The shamelessness of it! Perhaps she couldn't have es caped, perhaps, but to have crept closer! Oh, yes. She hadn't merely been hiding under the couch. She had wanted to see. She had crept closer as quietly as ever possible until, like a thief, she had been able to steal that couple's privacy.

She looked down at her body. Her enormous breasts hung listlessly, too big, veined, like udders. Her legs were too thin, her feet awkward. Her muscle tone was poor.

There was a telltale sag even upon so slim a body as hers. And yet, as she lay masturbating before her fire last night, this body had seemed an engine of pure pleasure, a very miracle of sexuality. It somehow seemed a betrayal by the body.

She had let herself go, she knew she had, and had indulged herself in her privacy.

Well, everyone did the same thing if they were willing to be truthful. But then, later, to have repeated the indulgence at the expense of other people! There was no excuse for, such a thing. That young woman and someone-had it been Larry?-had had their intimacy shared, whether they knew it or not, by a self-involved, dishonorable woman who hid under the couch and made love to herself secretly and in the dark.

Disgusting! What a spectacle she must have made, had there been anyone to see.

Embarrassed, she rose and walked into the bathroom. Better that she should wash and meet the day than that she should continue with this train of thought. And, she thought as she sat on the toilet, it had seemed such a lovely day when she wok e.

Damn!

What she would do, she would beg off the ride with Adrian, say she had an appointment to keep down in the valley. She would leave as soon as she got dressed and put lots of distance between herself and this place. When she thought of it, the place she really wanted to be was not here. Perhaps she'd drive down the coast to LA. She had friends in LA.

She flushed the toilet and began scrubbing her face more vigorously than usual.

After all, this was a pretty decadent place. The idea of those two making love in the library last night was enough to show her what sort of place it was. Anyone with any decency at all would have used a bedroom. They were to blame themselves for her discovery of them. I mean, what could they expect? Anyone might have wandered through there last night, to get a sandwich or something from the kitchen for example. Or to go down into the cellar. What was beyond those last curtains? She knew, though. Well, not knew. It could hardly be that anyway. But somehow she was pretty certain what she would have discovered had she pushed through that last barrier. How she knew, she would never have been able to describe. It was like Arthur's big, mysterious birthday present to her last fall. For days the questions had built along with the tension. And then, four days before the day, she had known. For no reason, just known completely and positively that he was giving her an aquarium.

But, that? Down in the cellar? Hardly likely. That would be like something out of a book, and not a very nice book either. Perhaps, after all, it really was some musicians just jamming around in the middle of the night.

She wet the cloth again and spread her thighs to wash her encrusted cunt. The image of herself in the mirror, breasts akimbo, was enough to remind her how utterly her body had overleaped its proscribed bounds. Even as she scrubbed, she saw a blush redden her neck and cheeks. You'll have to shape up, my girl. Just because you ran away from Arthur doesn't give you a license to relinquish all the strictures.

Damn it all, anyway. Life wasn't so bad with Arthur. She wished she were really certain she had done the right thing.

She was standing next to the bed looking with distaste at the stiff pair of panties which were all she had to wear when the door handle turned and someone began to walk into the room. In a flash, she was under the covers with her head buried in the pillows. It was one of the guests, probably, someone who didn't know she had arrived last night. He would see her and quietly retreat.

Instead though, she heard the door close and steps walk across the carpet toward her bed table. The person stopped near her head, and Emily was just wondering what to do when the aroma of coffee made her eyes fly open. Beside her stood a boyish girl in a black-and-white maid's uniform. She was just setting a tray of breakfast things down upon the table. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were asleep."

Emily smiled and rolled onto her back, being careful that her body was adequately covered. "That coffee smells too good to sleep." She nicked a pillow or two behind her shoulders. "Such service. Breakfast in bed!"

The girl's name, was Karen. She had brought along Emily's suitcase. It appeared that the gardener had filled her car enough to drive it in to the estate, and he was on his way now to purchase a few gallons, enough to get her away from here. But the coffee was good, and the muffins with jam even more grateful, and the day now seemed quite cheerful. Karen sat upon the foot of the bed and chatted with a bright impartiality about the Blacks, about her life here as a maid, about how very nice it all was. Emily learned that she was one of ten guests, that there were practically no house rules save that everyone enjoy himself in whatever manner he chose, and that it was now 11:30 in the morning.

"11:30," she cried. "I've an appointment with Mr. Black!"

"Oh, don't worry about it for a moment. He's busy with some business matters anyway. And he wouldn't like you to be rushed. May I pour you another cup?"