Distractions (12 page)

He was helpless under this determined attack. He looked at Sally, then at his wife’s furious work, then at Sally and bucked roughly, coming into
Emma’s mouth. A harsh, powerful orgasm, sharp and short, rocked his body.

Emma sucked him, slowly, now that he was done. He shuddered at each new pressure brought by her lips. Emma was on fire herself. She stood up and stepped lightly to Sally and kissed her mouth.

Sally was shocked to find her mouth filling with David’s come. They kissed. Sally was amazed. She pulled Emma to her, and grabbed her butt. But Emma disentangled herself and fled up the stairs.

David packed himself away with clumsy haste. Both of them were extraordinarily and unaccountably embarrassed. Sally couldn’t look in his direction even though her bottom lip was covered with his come. David stared at the floor.

Emma was heard bounding down the steps. She grabbed Sally’s hand and threw her onto the couch beside her husband. They moved apart immediately, so they weren’t touching.

‘I wrote a story for you, honey,’ she said. Neither Sally nor David knew to whom she was referring. ‘I want to read it to you.’

‘OK,’ proffered David, even though he had been sucked dry of feeling. He was observing the world, in particular the two women nearest him, with a cold-blooded post-orgasm mind. Still in
the emancipated moment, David looked at Sally, he looked at Emma, and wondered, truly wondered, at the circumstances which brought him to this pass. A wife who would do such a thing, for fun, in front of a friend was a wife who might just offer the friend her husband, a wife who might do anything. She was a wife who did not recognise what it meant to be a wife at all. She was nothing like the wife his mother had made, nor the wife his neighbour had secured. She was no wife at all. Who had he married?

Emma was very excited by all of the confusion she’d created. Her husband was more stranger than lover to her, he had on his public face. He was attempting, still, to keep things above board. Sally sat beside him mute. Both were very capable of pretending what just happened hadn’t happened. Neither would use the incident as an excuse. For different reasons, of course. David held his position on the moral high ground. Sally was in open rebellion. She wanted to
take
David not be handed him by his wife. She had no desire to be the squeaky third wheel. She wanted to involve herself fully, one on one, with this large beast of a man.

Emma held in her hand a few loose fools-cap pages. During the week, while Sally had
sunbathed, Emma had scribbled down a rude short story. Bit by bit, as inspiration came and went. She hadn’t tidied it up but she wanted to share it with them both, to tease and to please. She had no real inkling of how out of tune she was. She’d always dominated and had never faced rebellion. So she prepared herself for the telling without questioning the audience’s willingness to listen.

‘I wrote this the other day,’ she said. ‘It’s a little bit rude.’

‘A little bit?’ asked David. (Public voice.)

‘You weren’t here to look after me. I had to write about it.’

‘Sure,’ he said. He was feeling very tired now. The moment of clarity had passed and the slide towards sleep had begun. ‘A bedtime story.’

‘Yes, you’re my children. This is a lullaby.’

‘Oh, Emma, how you go on,’ said Sally, evidently annoyed. ‘Do we have to do this now? Can’t you see David’s tired?’

‘He’ll perk up, don’t fret,’ said Emma. Sally was being a bitch. She may not have had her hand physically on David’s shoulder, but in spirit the finely manicured fingers gripped him tightly. Emma understood now that Sally would not go willingly
into a
ménage à trois
. If not willingly then I shall insist! was Emma’s irrational response. They had all Sunday night to play! When would such an opportunity come again? David would follow her, of this she was certain. Why would any man deny himself the pleasure? It was madness!

‘It’s fiction, though I named the girl after you, Sal,’ she said, in an unmistakably icy tone. ‘She’s naughty too.’

‘Are you going to read it? Or just talk about reading it?’ asked Sally.

David lifted his head and looked at her. He was startled by the vehemence of her tone. He was made more alert by the tension he hadn’t noticed before. He smiled a grim smile. They were fighting over him. He almost stood and ended everything. Had he more energy, he might have. Though he despised the man, Mark was to be respected in his role as husband. David would just have to tell Sally that nothing further would come of their exciting little dalliance. He also wouldn’t be a party to the breaking of such a long friendship. Sally and Emma should not fall out over him. He had been irresponsible, but he would make amends.

‘We should hear it tomorrow. I don’t think it fair that Mark should miss out,’ said David.

At the sound of that name both women cringed. Sally thought
Mark
was the only word that couldn’t sound sexy dropping from David’s lips, and Emma would not have David use Mark as a wedge to prop open the door to suburban drudgery.

SEVENTEEN

‘I want to hear it now,’ said Sally, her tone changing so dramatically that David glanced over at her again. ‘Something nice and sexy to send me off to sleep will be a perfect end to a wonderful day,’ she added. Sally leant towards him, she didn’t want the little party to break up. Her bottom shifted. She’d have to head to her bedroom alone while Emma took David to bed. After all that had transpired that afternoon, it just wasn’t fair. She thought of
I Dream of Jeannie
and fantasised about magically transporting Emma to Timbuktu. If she were not with them, Sally felt
sure she could seduce David. There had been no resistance thus far, she noted.

David was at a great disadvantage being the least informed of the trio. Sally and Emma had their own pact, as it were, based on years of shared experience. The tension between the two women was electric. David was trying to stay rational, but as each second passed his desires were gaining more and more ground. Strangely, the fact that he felt powerless in this situation excited him even though power had always been his preferred aphrodisiac. He was prey. Though poisonous.

David was aware Sally found him attractive. He was aware she was willing to transgress certain accepted codes of good behaviour in order to have him. What he was unwilling to admit was that so was he. He wouldn’t posit the ‘What if Emma hadn’t come down?’ scenario for that would require an answer. He wasn’t big on answers that might place him outside conventional morality.

What was worse for him, and what made the whole thing more hopeless, was that his wife was actively encouraging the union.

Of course, the idea had been thrown around by David and his friends many a time. It was a great joke, a fantasy of many men – two women.
A wife willing to share. None of his friends had married such wives. Worse luck! was the cry. But not really. Who’d want a slut for a wife?

He’d always been a little worried with Emma around his friends. She was so liberal and they, well, they were private school boys and bankers. Wankers. But Emma never did reveal any of her more outrageous thoughts before them. These men were so blind to Emma’s charms, beyond the obvious, none had sniffed out her lascivious nature, none had come close.

David wasn’t up to the moment. His brain froze. His cock had become rigid, again. Sally’s proximity and Emma’s cavalier attitude made him moral, though. He was a rock and neither woman knew it.

‘It’s called
The Teacher
,’ said Emma.

‘What?’ asked David. He’d been distracted, Sally had moved even closer.

‘
The Teacher
,’ Emma repeated. Sally was staring at her, their eyes locked uneasily. Emma’s love for her friend rose and fell like a ship on a rough sea. She was suffering motion sickness. Have him, she thought. She imagined Sally’s reply, No!

‘What?’ asked David again.

‘The story is called
The Teacher
, dummy,’ said
Sally, leaning against him. ‘Now shush! Let your wife tell us a story.’

The word ‘wife’ was an interesting choice, thought Emma.

‘Is there any more wine?’ asked David. He was unsure about this story.

Sally was up and at the fridge and in a flash all their glasses were filled. Emma gulped hers down again. She felt it now. She let Sally re-fill her glass but she sat it on the floor beside her. Her thoughts slowed. She could feel how aroused she was. David held his glass out. Sally filled it and then sat back down, her feet under her, cuddling up to him.

Emma found this exciting. She felt Sally was with her now. Sally had been chattering again but Emma heard none of it. She watched her friend’s mouth move and David’s face acknowledge what was said. Emma looked down on the page and the words were blurry. She stood up before she really decided she would stand. There seemed to be a little time delay with her thoughts. She stepped to David and kissed him. David held her arm and kissed her back. Then she was seated again. Seated again. Seated again.

‘I’m drunk!’ she said. ‘No, really. The room is spinning!’

‘I’m drunk too, Em,’ said Sally, though she wasn’t nearly as drunk as she had been that afternoon. ‘Shall I read the story?’

‘No!’ said Emma, reacting as though Sally had tried to snatch the pages from her.

‘You
are
drunk!’ said David. ‘Where’s your glass?’ He picked it up off the floor. ‘Have some more!’

‘Nooooo!’ said Emma, rolling back over the whole couch.

David put the glass down on the coffee table and knelt on the floor, resting his elbows on the couch beside his wife. Emma let her legs fall open right before his eyes.

‘Oh! I can see your undies, Em,’ said Sally, who had moved to David’s seat.

‘At least I’m wearing undies! She’s got no undies, David. What do you think of her now?’

‘She’s a wicked tart,’ said David, turning his head and smiling at her.

‘She is that, and more,’ said Emma, closing her legs. David parted them forcefully again.

‘Emma!’ said Sally. ‘Take that back!’

‘Never!’ she replied.

‘I’m not a tart,’ said Sally, touching David on the arse though. Emma couldn’t see what she had done.

‘No!’ said David, turning again. ‘No,
you’re
not a tart.’

Sally thanked him by putting her hand between his legs and rubbing his balls. David turned back to Emma, who had missed all this.

‘Take your undies off,’ he said, quietly. Sally was stroking his shaft through his shorts.

‘Emma’s not a tart either,’ said Sally. She could picture his cock more realistically now. Through his board shorts and by touch alone he felt enormous. She could feel how hard she was making him. It felt so good to her. David was weakening. He’d love to have kissed Emma’s mouth now. He kissed Emma’s naked inner thigh. He thought of Sally sucking him. Kissing Emma passionately while Sally’s beautiful face sucked him.

‘I’m no tart!’ said Emma, misunderstanding what Sally had said. The room was spinning around. She tried to bring David up onto her, but the least bit of effort was too much. Her hands merely caressed his forearms. Thankfully her brain imagined him onto her. Then her brain imagined him fucking her. Good brain. Drunk brain. She’d be all overwhelmed in her drunken state, he’d be a monster on her.

Then she remembered Sally. She tried to get up.

David closed his legs on Sally’s hand and moved backwards towards her, lifting Emma upright as he did so. Sally quickly removed her hand. She had him, she believed. She was very excited now, knowing he’d be having her soon. Emma would pass out as Mark had done and they could fuck right next to her dreaming body.

Sally barely shifted and David sat more on her than next to her. Emma was watching now. David was very conscious of his hard-on. He felt exposed because of the way it strained against his pants. He hoped each woman would believe she was the inspiration.

Emma had intended to jump up, but merely fell forward. She stopped herself with out-stretched hands, palms down on the coffee table. David saved the full glass of wine from tumbling over and managed to get hold of the bottle of wine too. Emma sat back down laughing and apologising to all and sundry.

‘I’ll be good. I won’t say a word. You two can do what you like. I don’t care. I’ll watch.’

‘Emma! What are you talking about?’ asked David. He leant across and recovered the pages from the ground. ‘Shall I read it?’ He’d decided then that a story might be better than drunken jealousy.

Emma nodded.

‘She has such neat handwriting. Look, Sally,’ said David.

‘Uh-huh,’ said Sally, ‘I know, I know. Everyone always said so as we were growing up.’

‘Shall I read it?’ he asked Sally. She nodded.

‘Do I have to sit by myself?’ Emma asked.

Yes, thought Sally. You can fall asleep stretched out like Mark did. Perfect.

‘No, come here,’ said David, offering his hand. She took it and came to sit on his lap, with her back to Sally. David lifted her in his arms and turned her around. Her feet landing in Sally’s lap. Emma sat like a tired child, her head resting against his chest. There was nothing childlike about her hand as it went to investigate the lump in David’s shorts.

‘Oh my!’ she said. ‘You’re as hard as a rock! I thought I fixed that?’

Now Emma started to rub his cock through his board shorts.

Sally was fuming. Though the whole of one side of her body was in contact with David’s, Emma’s feet were in her lap and Emma, not Sally, was in David’s!

Sally was sorely tempted to break her resolve
and share David with Emma, which was clearly the direction Capitano Emma saw the evening going. But Sally didn’t want to fuck David ‘by anyone’s leave’. Least of all by Emma’s leave. She could feel the pressure on her, a familiar pressure, one she had experienced and welcomed so many times as a youth, but now, as a woman, she resented it. She wanted, if it had to be admitted, to steal David. Yes. From Emma. From her friend. Having thought of it in these terms, she relaxed somewhat.

‘I don’t think Sally wants to hear such things,’ said David, happy to have his cock rubbed by his wife, which was far less complicated. But he would prefer she refrained from doing it in front of Sally. He liked fucking Emma when she was drunk, which wasn’t often, because she made such a racket and she was ‘such a greedy bitch’. Her cock sucking was messier, her attention span was shortened. She’d ride him lustily for a bit. Jump off. Grin. Suck him hungrily, while rubbing her wetness against his leg. Then she’d get on her knees – waggle her arse in his face. She’d insist on being fucked. She was demanding and yet all over the place. It was fun sex. Stupid sex. Though often, in the long run, it wasn’t as satisfying as sober sex, which was Emma’s forte.