Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2003 22:19:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: Zoe Nox <RedQueen@fanforce.net>
Subject: Recovering Emma

	This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone real is
sheer coincidendce.  It contains mature content between adult women and
should not be read by anyone under the age of 18 or anyone with the
maturity level of someone under the age of 18.  Other than that, enjoy!
~Zoe Nox


	Michael and his parents had been friends of our family ever since I
was in grade school, and his parents would often baby-sit me when my mother
went out of town.  I never saw much of Michael at these times, he being
about ten years older than me and often out of the house with his high
school buddies.  After I was old enough to look after myself at home and
Michael went to college, he met a lovely girl named Emma and they got
married right after graduation.  Unfortunately, I did not attend their
wedding, as Mother and I had moved to the East coast, and so I only met her
once on a visit before they moved to the other side of the country.
Eventually, missing our hometown, we moved back so I could attend high
school with all my old friends.  Michael's parents moved out to California
a year later, and so reasons for Michael, Emma, and their two children to
visit Smithton, where we lived, vanished.  It wasn't until I myself had
been in college for three years did Michael finally raise enough money to
leave his firm in western Colorado and start his own practice back in
Smithton.

	All of our friends were excited by news of their homecoming and
preparations were made for a big "Welcome Back!" party at the Goldberg's
giant house in the most posh suburb of Smithton, Ash Glen.  I went mainly
because it was expected of me, and felt only slight curiosity about seeing
Michael's two children who I had never met than any real excitement about
his and Emma's return.  It being early October, I dressed in a semi-casual,
just below the knee black satiny skirt and a deep crimson vee-necked blouse
of similar material that brought out the red tones of my chestnut hair,
with only a light black leather jacket that I carried over my shoulder
rather than wore.  Together with a little silver jewelry (I never wore
gold) and light, accenting make-up, I left for the Goldberg's feeling that
I would probably have to stay at least two dull, small talk filled hours
before I could politely escape to my favorite club or cafe.

	When I got there, I went through the same old motions of having to
greet everyone I knew and suffer being introduced to their companions for
about half an hour before I could get to the mini bar and grab a martini.
I still hadn't caught sight of Michael or Emma or the kids, but since it
was a huge place, I figured they were here and I'd just run into them
eventually.  All the younger kids usually wound up in the basement where
the pool table, big screen T.V., and other entertainment equipment made up
the rec room, so I meandered other in the direction of the door leading to
the stairs, occasionally stopping to chat for a few minutes whenever I
heard my name emit from a knot of people.

Just as I neared the door, I heard Mrs. Goldberg exclaim, "Well, there she
is now!  Zoe, Michael was just asking about you!  Come see him and Emma!"

	I turned to see the Goldbergs, one of my high school ex-boyfriends,
and two people I vaguely knew by sight in a group around Michael and who I
recognized to be Emma.  If I'd allowed it, my mouth would have fallen open
in shock.  The misty memory of Emma had been a vaguely cute, dark haired
girl of twenty-something, still with a trace of acne and shyness radiating
from her in waves.  The woman before me bore little resemblance to that
girl.  Emma now bore herself with an enviable confidence and had matured
into a dazzlingly beautiful woman of thirty.  Her sable hair pooled around
her shoulders, framing an alabaster face with dark eyes that matched her
hair above full, kissable lips of deep rose.  Her body underneath the
strapless emerald-green cocktail dress was curvaceous, feminine, with full
half melon breasts that still looked firm even after two children.  Oh, to
be Michael tonight after the party, in bed with her...

	"Zoe!  It's been, what, five, six years?  Look how you've matured!"

	Michael's comment wrenched my mind back to the real world, and my
eyes back into their sockets.  I hoped no one had noticed the way I had
ogled Emma.

"Well, I can't believe you have kids!  Who, by the way I still have yet to
meet.

Where are they?  In the basement?  What are their names again?"

It was Emma who replied, "Thomas and Marie.  Yes, they ran off to play with
the other children not ten minutes after we walked in the door.  Don't
worry; you'll see them soon enough.  Tell me how you're doing in school.
What's your major again?"

	Her voice was so warm, full of laughter.  Listening to her talk was
like drinking a marguerita on the beach in full summer.  I'd say anything
to make her keep talking, no matter how inane.

"I finally settled on evolutionary psychology, which is a bit like
anthropology, only..."


	One by one, members of our group wandered off to join others,
Michael being the last to leave, pulled away by some of his old frat
buddies.  I wasn't sorry to see him leave.  At last, I was alone with Emma
in a corner all to ourselves.  Every time she laughed I got a little
thrill, as if a feather had whisked up my spine.  After nearly an hour, we
seemed like old friends, telling the most ludicrous stories and laughing at
the other like we'd been doing it for years.  Every thing she did made me
want her more.  The way she threw back her head to laugh with her whole
soul, the mischievous glint she'd get in her eye whenever we'd start
another yarn, the conspiratorial wink she'd give me when she'd get to the
juicy parts, the way she'd clutch my arm for a moment when I made her
laugh, as though she might carry herself away with the force of her glee.
I knew that this was a woman of passion and vivacity.

	Unfortunately, right as the stories started to turn towards our
wildest past flings (I wanted to tell her about some of the women I'd been
with and gage her reaction), her children trudged their way wearily to our
corner and whined about how sleepy they were.

Emma gave a little sigh and gave me a crooked, apologetic grin.

	"I'm sorry, Zoe, but..."

"That's okay."  I forced myself to laugh merrily.  "I understand
completely!  Besides, how could I possibly mind when the interruption is as
cute as these two are?  Hi, guys!"  I made my smile so winsome it ached.

	Thomas, at five, felt bold enough to smile at me shyly.  Marie,
barely three, simply looked up at me through her thick dark lashes and
tugged on her dress hem.

	Marie looked like a baby Emma, but with Michael's wispy curl to her
dark hair.

Thomas looked like a mix of them both and more: Emma's straighter hair,
Michael's lighter eyes, and his grandmother's elfin bone structure.  They
were cute.  I didn't really resent their intrusion; I simply wanted more
time with Emma.

"They're simply adorable, Emma.  Look at those doe eyes.  How can anyone
resist that?"

"I glad you think so, Zoe," Michael had just wandered back over, his
paternal instincts flaring up with the reappearance of his kids, "How would
like to baby-sit sometime?  The kids hate these parties, and from what I
hear, you only go to the 'Absolutely Mandatory Attendance by All on Pain of
Death" social events yourself.  The Johnsons told me you used to watch
their brood often, and we don't really know anyone reliable yet."

"Michael, I shouldn't think Zoe would have the time..." Emma began.

"No, that's alright, as long as you give me some notice so I can know when
to schedule study time."  Like I said, anything for Emma.

"There, you see?  She's up for it," Michael beamed, brushing aside any
further objections from his wife.  "Anyway, we'd better go, the kids need
to get in bed, you know.  Whose turn is it to tell stories tonight?"

"Yours.  Look, I'm still kind of itching to be out, okay?  Can I get a ride
from Zoe?  You're great with the kids, they always like it when you put
them to bed, anyway,"

Emma said, searching Michael's eyes as though pleading with him.

"Fine, but not too late, okay?  I have to go in tomorrow, and I don't want
to be bothered at three in the morning or something."

Emma didn't even bother asking why her husband needed to go to the office
on a Saturday.  Part of me was a little taken aback and confused, but a
very tiny part of me in the back of my mind did a little jig of ruthless
glee...


			* * *


	Half an hour later, I found myself driving down Mason Parkway with
the gorgeous Emma enthroned in my passenger seat.  She had said she didn't
feel like going anywhere in particular, only that she wasn't in the mood to
be surrounded by a vapid horde of people she barely knew that she was
expected to adore any longer.  I suggested that we just drive for a while,
and perhaps we'd make up our minds in the car.  She merely smiled at that
and hopped into the black leather passenger seat without a murmur of
dissent.  I longed to pull over and fling myself at her but kept myself
under tight rein.

	An idea struck me.  She was "itching to be out"?  Sounded to me
like she needed to blow off a little excess energy.  I only hoped I was
right.

"Say, Emma, do you want to go out to a club, get in some dancing?  You
know, have a girls' night out, sort of thing?"

Her eyes sparkled.  "Sure.  Where at?  Got a regular haunt?"

"As a matter of fact, I do..."


	The bouncer pushed open the non-descript black door for us, and I
let Emma go ahead of me so I could trade winks with Anthony, who knew me on
sight and always pulled me ahead of the line.  His grin broadened upon
glancing at Emma and he gave me a knowing nod.  Once inside, I cast about
for Emma, who'd stopped just inside the door so she could adjust to the dim
lights.  The Mickey Femme only had soft lights in the bar for the
bartenders and the multi-hued light show on the dance floor, with tiny red
lamps on the tables that didn't really illuminate much, just made a beacon
in the darkness to navigate by.  In emergencies, the house lights did come
up, bright enough to see the exits but not enough to blind, but otherwise
the club was pretty damn dark.  Another, odder sort of paltry illumination
came from the glow-in-the-dark bracelets everyone wore.

When you came in the door you were given a color based on preference, to
avoid any misunderstandings: that is to say, pink if you preferred female
attention, blue for male, and purple for both.  I hadn't given Anthony time
to ask Emma, thereby giving everything away too soon; I'd simply grabbed a
purple for myself and a neutral green for her.  I didn't yet know if she
felt anything for her own sex, and anyway she was married, so she probably
wouldn't want to be hit on a lot by strangers.  Her bracelet just let every
one else know that she probably didn't welcome any "attention" and was only
here to dance.  Besides, I didn't want to share her with anyone else.  I'm
selfish that way.

	"Do you want to get a table or a drink first?"  I pointed to the
bar.

"A drink, then straight to the dance floor.  We can get a table later, if
you want.

You know, to rest after dancing," she replied.

Was it just my imagination, or was that a coy gleam in her eye?  Unlike
Emma (or so I thought), I knew why the tables had next to nothing in terms
of lighting.  The tables were surrounded on three sides by plush booth
seats in dark red velvet.  The booths made a perimeter around the dance
floor, breaking only for the doors and the bar.  The low lights and high
backed seats around the tables gave them a grotto-like atmosphere, which
helped give a sense of privacy that was exploited by couples and groups
alike.  Since the 'Femme was a place local gays and their supportive
friends went to meet other like-minded people, it only followed that once
having met someone, they'd want to get to know them a little better...

We slid up to the bar and I asked Melanie, a foxy little redhead, for my
usual (double shot of vodka with a cherry in it) and waited for Emma to
order something mild and effeminate, like a Pink Lady or a daiquiri.  To my
surprise, she asked for a double bourbon.  She merely raised an eyebrow at
my drink and proceeded to knock back hers in two gulps.  My eyes watered
just watching her.  I hurriedly began gulping mine down, saving the cherry
for last, sucking all the juice ( now blended with vodka) and pulling out
the stem.  Just as I was about to drop the stem back in the glass and hand
it back to Melanie, Emma stopped my and took the stem with a mischievous
grin.

"Wanna see me do a trick?  Michael's never seen me do it."

I knew what she was about to do, but for some reason the fact that Emma was
the one doing it and that she hadn't done it for Michael turned me on even
more.

"Sure."

It was more of the way she put the stem in her mouth, slowly, teasingly,
and then half closed her eyes while she tied it in a knot with tongue that
got me.  Then she lazily stuck her tongue through her lips with the knotted
stem on the end and reached up with her index finger and pulled it off.
She held out her finger with the stem on it for my inspection, and I gave
her a slow, drawling smile to show her my appreciation.

"Why hasn't Michael seen this?" I asked.

"Because I knew he wouldn't approve.  He's so proper and old-fashioned
sometimes," she replied, somewhat bitterly.

Aha, I thought to myself, not exactly happy with him, are we?  "And let me
guess, he expects his wife to be properly demure?" I queried.

"Yeah, well, he's completely different with the kids..." she trailed off.

I knew then what kind of relationship Emma probably had with her husband.
He expected her to put off her own career in photography and stay at home
with the kids so he could work at his own.  He would have final say in all
matters, and when at home probably spent nearly all his time either with
the kids or working.  And that made me really angry.  Emma deserved more
than that.  Sure, it was good that she got to spend time with her kids and
that Michael was a good father to them, but he neglected her, squashing her
creativity and passion and individuality.  I wondered how many times a
week, or even a month, he said "I love you" in a way that told her he felt
what he was saying and not just parroting it back at her.  Did he ever come
home early and surprise her with a kiss and a promise that tonight the kids
could go to the neighbors'?  "Let's get out there!" exclaimed Emma
suddenly.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me after her, onto the middle of the floor.

Amber's "Sexual" had started up and all over the floor people began getting
closer to their partners and picking up the pace of their movements.  Emma
flung her hands over her head and began working her body not even a foot
from mine.  I kept edging a little closer with each thrust of my hips,
until by the end of the song we were barely three inches apart.  The next
song was Tatu's "All the Things She Said".  I wondered while we kept
dancing if she knew that the girls were lesbians and what she thought about
it.

"Hey, isn't this that lesbian song?" she asked suddenly, as if reading my
mind.

"Yeah, like it?" yelling back over the music.

"I love the video!  They make lesbians look so innocent and romantic!"

"Well, they're not all that innocent, but they can be very romantic."  Hope
flared in my chest.  Could she possibly be interested?  "I've always
wondered what it was like, being interested in another woman, how the
chemistry would work," she half-laughed, not edging away, but closer
instead.

"It works, trust me."  I knew she'd understand what that meant.

"Oh?" she replied archly, raising one of her eyebrows.  "I should just take
your word for it, hm?"

I almost stopped breathing.  Was she implying what I thought (hoped) she
was?  "Well," I said, letting my voice drop a little lower and half closing
my eyes, "you don't have to take only my word for it."

And feeling more daring than ever, I moved forward half an inch and wrapped
my arms around her waist.

She leaned into my arms and twined her arms behind my neck.  The song
changed again, into Nine Inch Nails' "Closer".  We began to move together,
eyes locked into the other's, grinding into each other sinuously.  I let my
hands slide up and down her back and sides.  She slid her arms from my neck
down to my waist slowy, letting her fingers brush the sides of my breasts.
I bent forward and kissed the side of her neck, tasting her skin, letting
my hands snake down and caress her firm womanly ass.  She gave a little
gasp, then a moan as I gently bit into her soft neck, just under her jaw.
I lifted my head, and she gave me a look smoldering with something more
than just lust, before she moved closer and touched her lips to mine.  I
let her guide the kiss.  She parted my lips with her tongue and clasped me
to her harder, our breasts rubbing against each other, stiff nipples
exciting the other's.  I raked my nails up her ass through her dress,
pushing my tongue against hers.  She moved her hands down to my ass,
kneading her fingers into it.

I broke of the kiss with a gasp and said, "Let's get out of here.  My
place?"

She merely nodded her agreement and we wove our way through the crowd and
out the door with a wave from Anthony.  We got to the car, where we kissed
and clung to each other for a few minutes before getting in.  As I drove,
Emma placed her hand on my thigh and caressed it in swirling motions,
making it very hard for me to drive.  When we finally got to my apartment,
I all but slammed her against my door, kissing her lips, her neck, her
hair, all while trying to unlock the door.

Inside, I led her to the bedroom by the hand.  I had found a nice small
complex outside the city limits, so it was dark enough for moonlight to
shine uninterrupted through the open blinds.  I turned to face her a foot
from my queen-sized bed, looking at her to make sure she wanted to be here.
Before I could say anything, she came toward me and put her hands on my
breast, flicking the nipples with her nails.  I closed my eyes and moaned,
then opened them, a devilish smile on my lips.  I encircled her with my
arms and unzipped her dress in one quick moment, the green fabric falling
to the floor before she knew what had happened.

"Hmmm, seems someone did the naughty thing and went without a bra and
topped it off with a skimpy little thong," I teased, shaking my finger at
her coyly.

For there she stood, almost completely naked, with only a little black lace
thong barely covering her trimmed pussy.  I began to unbutton my blouse one
button at a time, until I shrugged it off and slowly unzipped my skirt,
inching it off like an erotic dancer, twitching my hips to imaginary music,
until I, like her, stood in nothing but a little deep purple thong myself.

"See?  We almost match."

She grinned and moved towards me, trailing her hands over my bare skin,
tracing the outline of my thong before cupping my breasts once more and
rolling my nipples between her supple fingers.  Then, to my surprise, she
bent and placed her lips around my left nipple, swirling her tongue around
the tip before taking it between her teeth.  I groaned, my pussy instantly
warming and growing steadily damper.  She looked up at me through her
lashes and switched to my right nipple while kneading my right with her
hand.  I tangled my hand in her hair, clasping her head to my tit, hissing
through my teeth as she bit a little too hard on my nipple, but getting
hotter all the same.

Suddenly I wrenched her head up, though not hard enough to be truly painful
and pushed her onto the bed.  I crawled on top of her, straddling her hips,
grabbing her breasts and twisting the nipples gently, causing her to moan
and squirm.  I could feel her pussy getting wet beneath mine, and I grinned
evilly.

"You liked that, didn't you?" I asked.

She nodded and gasped, "Yes.  Oh, God, Zoe, I haven't felt like this in
years..."

Years?  Poor baby.  I needed to show her everything she'd been missing.

I stretched out on top of her, covering her mouth with mine, shoving my
tongue in her mouth, still pinching her nipples.  I moved slowly down to
her neck, biting and sucking on her delicate alabaster flesh, her little
gasps as I found a particularly sensitive spot very rewarding.  I trailed
my way down to her breasts, licking her pink little nipples and nibbling on
them until she whimpered with the need for release.  I moved my hands down
to her thong, slipping a finger in a pushing it against her wet lips for a
brief second, before slipping the flimsy material down her legs.  I licked
and kissed my way down her stomach until I got to her hips.  I ignored her
soaking pussy completely, instead licking up and down one thigh, then the
next.

"Zoe!  Please!" Emma begged me.

I decided I had worked her up enough and promptly spread her legs apart.  I
stared at her beautiful snatch for a moment then used my fingers to
separate her lips and touched the tip of my tongue to her swollen clit.  A
shiver ran through her body.  I slid my tongue up and down her slit, then
slipped two fingers into her and sucking her clit into my mouth.  She
moaned loudly and put her hand behind my head, pulling me into her pussy.
I started slowly pumping my fingers in and out of her, while I sucked and
licked her clit until she was screaming for release.

"Oh!  Oh!  Zoe... Zoe... Fuck me... please... fuck me harder... harder..."

My fingers pumped faster, and right as I felt her body start to tense for
its orgasm I bit down on her clit.  She arched her back and her juices
gushed all over my face and hand as the wave crashed over her, screaming
wordlessly.  She went limp as the orgasm subsided, and I took my hand out
of her, licking her juices off with a happy smile.

"Michael's never made me feel so good..." Emma whispered after she had
pulled herself together.

"Well, more for me, then," I chuckled.

She sighed contentedly, then looked at me and said, "Can I do that to you?"

"Emma, is this your first time with a woman?"

"Yes.  I know I might not be any good, but... you made me feel so good,
I..."

 "I don't mind, but I just want to make sure you really want to do that.  I
don't mind if you don't.  I'm happy making sure you've been fulfilled."

Her reply was to flip me over onto my back and straddle my hips.

"I really want to."

She scooted backwards until she knelt besides my knees.  Slowly, carefully,
she hooked a finger into either side of my panties and slipped them off.
She stared at my pussy for a long moment, then placed a hand on each thigh
and gently pushed them apart.

She reached down and began to stroke my clit, haltingly at first, then
picking up a smoother rhythm.  I let my head fall back and closed my eyes,
feeling the heat spread from my pussy until my toes and fingers felt warm
and tingly.  Suddenly I gasped, my eyes flying open, as I felt her tongue
against my slit.  She continued to pinch and stroke my clit with her
fingers while she thrust her tongue inside me, making me moan her name over
and over, massaging her hair with my desperate hands.

"Emma... uhhh... yes... I'm going to... going to... CUMMMMMM..."

I felt myself stiffen and twitch as I moaned and panted through the most
incredible orgasm.  My hands flexed once, twice in her hair, then I went
limp as the surge left me, soaked in sweat and sex.  Emma crawled back up
the bed and cuddled down next to me as I recovered.

"Did I do well?" she asked, smiling, my juices still glistening on her face
in the moonlight.

"More than well," I assured, when I had my breath back, "you're fantastic."


This was my first story for Nifty.  Please send any comments to
RedQueen@fanforce.net.  Thanx!