Arthur Alexander - Emily_s Lips

"I'm pretty well exhausted too. It seems like I've been doing nothing except coming since I got here."

"Not a bad way to live," Karen chuckled.

"You're right, at that. I'd never have thought I would have the stamina."

"I told you there was a lot going on here."

"You also said there were people who didn't do it. I'd like to meet one of them right about now!"

"Too bad for you, kiddo," grinned Karen. "That was a lie."

"I was afraid of that," Emily sighed. She raised herself onto her elbow, dislodging Karen's face, and looked down at her friend. "This is all damned confusing to me, you know."

"I know it must be, dear. I'm sorry about that."

"Not that I'd want to be doing anything else," Emily grinned, and her hand landed upon Karen's cunt. The girl jumped. "I rather like it, you know?"

"I thought you did. Somehow I got that impression."

"But," and she heaved herself onto her stomach, "I'm too confused even to think."

"Then don't. Just let it be."

"As they say.'

"As they say."

"And I don't miss Arthur so terribly anymore. I am lonely for him, true, but I have the feeling that I'm finding something out about myself that I couldn't if he were here."

"Probably."

"But that doesn't mean I won't go back to him. I was thinking about it as I rode home this afternoon. I'd always assumed it was something besides sex which was driving me away. Our sex wasn't too great, but I thought it was some deep, psychological thing of some sort which was causing the split. But now I think maybe it was sex after all. Or what sex stands for maybe, an access to the body perhaps. A trust in the body. Arthur was always too cerebral. He didn't trust his body. It scared him, really, poor man.

"May I say something?"

"Well, of course."

"It's a warning. Don't get believing that sex is anything other than what it is."

"Oh, I understand that."

"Not yet, you don't. It's just that I've been here for almost a year. I was even less sure of myself when I came than you were, if you can believe that. And I've gained a lot of confidence through my body and exploring my emotions. But it's a limited road, Emily. There's got to be some love too, something holy-if I may use such a wordto translate that body knowledge into a lifestyle."

Emily mused upon that for a moment, then said, "You make a good point."

"It's just that I'm about ready to leave this place. I can't go any further here. I need to be part of a home maybe, a real home, not like this place. I mean this is just something out of Playboy. It's Adrian's big fantasy trip. Everyone fucking all the time with anyone who happens to be in bed with them. It's okay for the people who come up from the cities for a holiday-they have lives to go back to. But what about us who are here all the time? We're just sort of like another fixture of the place, like the horses, or the mountains. That's why I like you so well. You came here by accident.

You didn't know what you were getting into. You remind me of myself, you see.

Emily rolled over onto her back and stared at the canopy over her head. "I don't think I'm going to get too carried away."

"That's what they all say, my love."

"Well, I can always just leave, right?"

"Sure. So can I."

Emily glanced at Karen's serious face and then sat up. "You know, I really am hungry."

"Hey! So am I. Come on."

As Emily had hoped that it might, the music occurred again that evening. It crept up the stairs of that vast, night-shrouded house. It flooded like a tide along the corridor outside her bedroom. It flecked and whirled against her door until It found a crack underneath through which it could seep. Scintillating, as it had been last night.

Pulsing, demanding, intoxicating. Emily smiled. Yes, well, she thought she knew pretty much what it was all about down ther e. She had waited, and here it was, and this was the time. Now she would beat them at their own game, and then perhaps she really\ could take charge once more.

She rose and placed the screen before the fire. Was she dressed properly? What did one wear, after all? But she had chosen the ensemble with care. Her frilliest and most insubstantial panties, a skirt both comfortable and alluring, quite a tight sweater, and, of course, no bra. It was attractive, useful, and easily discarded. She studied herself in the mirror for a moment and struck a hipshot pose. Not bad. She nicked up her honey hair, gave her nipples a pinch so they would stand out against the sweater, and she was ready. Look out below!

But it was not to be so. Last night, she had crept as silently as might be through the darkened house. Now she was a guest in her own right, and she might not be gainsaid should she wander the corridors in the moonlight. And yet, just as had occurred last night, her descent was interrupted. Seemingly from nowhere, an arm and voice arrested her just as she was about to open the cellar door.

"Hey!" It was a man she had never seen before, older, perhaps fifty, in evening dress. "Hey," he repeated himself.

"Yes?" she answered, somewhat coldly to be sure. His hand on her upper arm was tight.

You II do.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come along."

"But I was just going down- "Going down, were you?"

"Yes." Emily was uncertain that she wanted to know this man any better than she already did. "Yes, down to the music."

"Ha!"

Emily attempted to draw away. "Look, I-"

"Come with me, chickie." He began to tug her back toward the front of the house.

"But I was going-"

"Yeah. I heard you. He was a thin man, with a clipped voice, and he was hurrying her across the parquet of the entrance hall. It was happening too fast. "I'm not certain that I want to-"

"To be sure. To be thoroughly sure."

But

"You were going down, weren't you?"

But

"Yeah."

"But-" And they were outside. A small but chilly breeze swept around the corner of the house. It burrowed quickly through the knitting of Emily's sweater and hardened her big nipples. And she was barefoot.

"Look." Emily was beginning to grow alarmed. "I don't even know you."

"You will, chicide. Believe me." His fingers tightened upon her upper arm, and he began leading her to the left along the veranda.

Now, at last, she dug in her heels, figuratively of course. That flagstone was cold.

"No! I'm not going. I don't know you, and I don't like the way you're acting, and I won't go with you."

"You like it that way, do you?" Before she had a chance to speak or to understand what he meant, he swung himself behind her and had her arm in a hammer-lock.

Forcing her wrist up between her shoulder blades caused her to arch her back sharply, and this thrust her pointed breasts out farther even than usual. His left hand took the opportunity to seize one of the massive glands and squeeze it too hard.

"I'll scream," she warned him, and she drew in a breath with which to carry out her threat.

"I don't think you will," came his calm, thin voice. The hand mauling her tit clamped itself instead across her mouth. "I think you'll just be a quiet, good, little chickie with big tits, arid come right along with me. We'll have lots of fun together, you'll see."

Indeed, he was too strong for her, and she had no choice but to go with him. He maintained his pressure on her arm just forcefully enough to discourage resistance but without doing her any real injury. And as she marched along, he whispered to her through her hair.

Really! He was not a nice man at all. The things he was saying! About her poor titties, how big they were, and how hard her nipples. Just as she had been saying to Karen this afternoon: he was mistaking her tits for herself. Mis-guided man! He thought that just because she had big breasts, she liked doing that? Men! What conceit. She didn't, really. Well, only with someone she truly loved. Otherwise it was just an act, just lust. And lust was pretty limited after all. Not much to be said about it.