I was woken, around eleven o'clock, by Emily's hand stroking my chest. She was smiling.
"I thought you'd never wake up," she said.
It took me a moment to remember where I was. "Oh hello. You still here?" I said blinking.
"Oh course I am," she said, "did you think you were going to get rid of me that easily? Anyway, I badly need a coffee and I am hungry." I burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" she asked.
"You're feisty," I said, "how did you enjoy your evening?"
"It was wild and intense," she said, with a smile,"I'm pretty sore now though. Can we go eat?"
I was surprised at the way she had taken things in her stride. I had expected at least some tears of regret, if not a delightful flood. It crossed my mind that her attitude might be a clever ruse to escape my clutches and cry rape. But she had no need to escape. The door wasn't locked. She could have gone any time.
After a quick visit to the wet room, to clean up, we went out, into the sun, and found a café in Old Compton Street. Over coffee and croissants Emily told me some things about herself that I had never heard from Kim or John. She told me that she had only been at the posh boarding school for a few years. She was sent because she kept getting into trouble at the regular state school.
Despite being exceptionally bright, or perhaps because of it, she was labelled as disruptive. It was Kim who decided to send Emily to boarding school, in the hope that they could harness her cleverness and get her into a good university. John was, apparently, opposed to the idea. But Kim, who wasn't working, went back to work as a district nurse, to pay for the school fees.
I feel the need to say that I have no idea whether any of this is true. Why would she lie, you might ask? Well, being a world-class liar myself I have a certain intuition about these things. There was just something about Emily's attitude, voice and body language that hinted that she might be an accomplished liar. I began to wonder what use I might make of her, if my intuition was correct.
***
A call on my mobile telephone interrupted my reverie. I was stunned to hear the voice of one of my guests from the previous night.
"How's the girl?" he asked
"Remarkably good," I said, "we are just having some breakfast."
"She's cute," he said.
"Sounds like you are smitten," I said. Emily was making who-is-it gestures.
"I just wanted to make sure she's all right," he said.
"This doesn't sound like you," I said, "and anyway, you hardly had a deep and meaningful conversation with her."
"I like her, okay!" he said.
"Then you might as well ask her yourself," I said, handing the telephone to Emily.
The funniest part of the conversation was hearing Emily asking him to describe himself, so she could work out which one he was. And well she played him, pretending not to recognise his description and asking questions like, "were you the one that couldn't manage a second time?" and "so you weren't the very, very big one then?" When the conversation ended, Emily handed me back the mobile and announced that she had to leave.
"Got a date?" I asked.
"Maybe," she said with a grin. "Can I see you again?"
"Most definitely," I said.
And so she left, leaving a trail of turned heads, as she went.
I finished my coffee and called Kim, to tell her I would be over that evening. I expected her to be dressed appropriately, I told her. The opportunity of have mother and daughter in the same day was just too good to pass up.
***
On Friday evening, I had John drive us to a dogging site. I told John to sit inside the car while I had Kim over the bonnet of the car, watched by a group that included a number of slutty looking women.
"Who's the guy in the car?" asked one of them.
"The husband," I said, "he's a wimp." And that's just how John looked, small and timid, his body language inviting the tapping on the windows to the sound of catcalls. The women were the worst.
A black guy made his was through the crowd, looked at me, and said, "may I?"
"Of course," I said, pulling out of Kim. "It's okay," I whispered into Kim's ear, "he's a friend. He's safe." Although she didn't know it was going to happen this particular evening, Kim and I had discussed this particular scenario, so it didn't come as a total surprise to find someone else taking a turn.
And part of what I told her was true. He was a indeed 'a friend'. I wasn't the only one who found the idea of having mother and daughter on the same day to be irresistible. But safe? Well I guess it depends on what one means by safe. Perhaps disease free would have been more accurate description.
John started to move and fidget inside the car. Although this scenario played to his fantasies, he was finding the reality tough to take. I climbed into the car alongside him, to prevent him getting out and making a fuss.
"I'm going to stop this," said John.
"Isn't it what you wanted?" I said. "You told me that you wanted to see your wife used like a cheap slut."
"Yeah, well, maybe but now I've seen it, I don't like it much," said John, his hand reaching towards the door handle.
I gripped his wrist tightly. "Don't do it, John," I said. "You'll get hurt."
"I'm already hurt," said John, his eyes a little moist.
I twisted his wrist hard. "I am giving you a friendly warning John. If you get out of the car, you will get hurt." He hesitated, sat back and sobbed quietly.
After my friend was finished, an ashen-faced John drove us home. I decided to stay the night. Neither Michael nor Emily were home but then one cannot have everything.
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