Emma Frost, Karla's best friend in New York, was the person Karla decided to celebrate her good fortune with. They'd grown up together, Emma the daughter of a wealthy scion, Karla the daughter of the help. Vassar had educated both of them and they'd both started psychiatric practices, New York barely big enough for the both of them.
It'd been a while since Karla had seen Emma, and she was still the ice queen Karla remembered, but also still with a blue twinkle in her eye that made her more interesting than many of Karla's other conquests.
Emma tried to conquer her too.
Emma entered Karla's expensive apartment near Central Park and allowed herself to admire the elegant penthouse. She may have been human, but she'd splurged some of her potent income on modern conveniences like floor-recessed furniture that could change any space into a bedroom, a sitting room, or a dining room.
"Wait until you see the pool," Karla said. "My latest little gadget. I love strutting about in a bikini, but can't
bear
being gawked at by people like you are."
Emma looked around with an expression that would've been disdainful if she didn't greet nearly everything in her life with it. They were in the huge living room of the apartment, the place done up in white with yellow highlights—(awful how Karla tried to redo Emma's own internal decorator on a slashed budget)—with electronic pictures on the wall that flickered from vacation photos to old masters. There didn't seem to be any space for so much as a Jacuzzi.
Maybe Karla was finally losing it. Wouldn't that be
delicious?
Karla laughed at her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Of course, you're not familiar with the latest advances... probably too busy..."
Going to the wall, Karla pressed a few buttons on a board. The floor opened up, two flat panels sliding away on rollers, revealing a box-like pit of some ten cubic feet. The carpets retracted into shiny, hard-surfaced floor as nozzles into the pit fired, water roaring out of them and expanding via Pym Particle once they'd splashed to the floor. The rising, expanding water seemed like it would end up geysering out of the pit, but the nozzles stopped firing inside of a minute, leaving the water to finish its expansion and settle into a complete swimming pool, right in the middle of the living room, the furniture not just avant-garde, but perfect for the poolside. Even the lights switched, shining down a mellow yellow glow on the gently sparkling water.
"Florida in Central Park," Karla boasted. "Shall we have a swim? I told you to bring your bathing suit. Unless of course you've eaten before coming here..."
"Of course not!" Emma snapped. Then, cooler, she undressed herself, revealing the bikini underneath her clothing. Smiling as she did so. Her body was her trump card, exquisitely preserved from the halcyon days of her twenties, and enhanced, of course. She had creamy skin that almost shone, her face was as perfect as ever, her blonde hair a buttery gold. Her breasts were high and almost real, her stomach flat, and the slight bulge of her V daringly half-displayed between her two shapely thighs and their long legs.
"Such a lovely little place you've made for yourself," Emma continued, calmer and more confident now that she had her body on display, its voluptuous curves dwarfing Karla's sleek, slender frame. "I'm sure when you find someone to share it with, he's just going to love it. It's so crazy that you haven't found the right man yet."
Karla undressed as well. Unlike Emma, she went naked, showing off her body, everything tight, toned, taut, the dimple of her waist, the gap of her thighs, the slenderness of well-constructed muscle. Easy to be voluptuous, that was just fat, but Karla was tall and willowy and
firm.
"Oh, I've found the right man. Quite frequently, in fact."
Emma walked down the stairs to the pool, displaying her extravagant wedding ring as she braced herself on the handrail. "As do I. Every time I come home."
Karla raised a hand to her mouth. "Excuse me, I think something I ate has disagreed with me."
"I hope that doesn't put you off your new diet. I think it's really about to pay off..." Emma began to paddle around the pool, displaying her long legs in breathtaking strokes, her high buttocks smoothly gliding through the water behind her, long supple back rippling with muscle.
Karla watched as she reclined on a lounge chair, facedown, her buttocks firm and round even in the unforgiving light of the sun lamps. "You've done quite well for yourself. Serving as psychologist to the House of Magnus itself. The only way you could be any better is if you were serving God Doom."
"You've done great too! After all, you are
my
psychologist..."
"Speaking of, we should get down to business. After all, every psychologist needs to be psychoanalyzed. Make sure there's no trouble in paradise..."
Emma dove down, completely inverting herself so her thonged buttocks showed under thrashing legs, driving her under the surface. Her velvety ass bounced and swayed as she kicked under the water, and Karla felt a wild urge go through her. Emma really was beautiful. The bitch.
She came back up, her wet hair darkened, falling in rain-black clouds over her shoulders. She gathered it up in lazy, glossy loops, redirecting it down her back. "What was that, Karla? I wasn't listening."
"Just thinking out loud—a few questions I've had since our last session..."
"Oh, Karla, you speak of our time together so poetically..." Emma lounged on her back, simply floating spread-eagle atop the slightly choppy waters, her legs apart, her breasts heaving as they met the rays of the sun lamp. The light glistened on the curvy flesh like a shifting, fondling hand.
"You said that you have a very happy marriage."
"Oh yes. Still do." Emma closed her eyes and lounged, her head surrounded by a halo of floating hair. "Scott's a true partner. Loves me. Respects me. Not even any exes lingering about for me to worry about. No, I plucked him straight off the vine."
"Yes, the perfect marriage, that's you two."
"And you thought it was so silly of me, dating the pencil neck in high school."
"I don't believe I called him a pencil
neck...
whose idea was it to get married, yours or Scott's?"
"Scott's, the dear. Wanted us wed right out of high school, before we even went to college."
"That follows. I never thought of you as the marrying kind."
"No. I'm more the being fucked kind." Emma's legs clasped together, the little wave she made propelling her to the shallow end of the pool. She made her way to the automatic dumbwaiter, eternally poised even as she walked wet on the slick floor, and ordered a gin. "Scott takes care of that. Quite amply."
"You don't crave... variety?"
"Scott's all the variety I can handle." Emma retreated to the pool with a shiver, bearing the gin above her head in exaggerated fear that it would be contaminated by the pool water. "I always knew he had something of the freak in him—oh, I'm sorry, is it insensitive of me to talk about my mutant powers around a low-gene? Should I check my privilege?"
"It's fine. Good to admit that your psychology is dependent upon special powers and not clinical work."
"Yes, that's pretty boring," Emma agreed. "But Scott, he... mmm..."
She almost wished Karla were gene-blessed, just so she could know what it was like with him. Maybe she'd teep it to her anyway, a subconscious thought to come back around in her dreams. She thought out loud, wondering if Karla had enough psychic sensitivity to pick up what was being laid down.
Emma loved being fucked. She'd always loved it, but so rarely had something to love. Not for lack of options. She'd always been gorgeous, came out of the womb with golden hair, perfect breasts just waiting to happen, and most importantly, a trust fund. But there'd been so many disappointments.
Sebastian, the big football stud, lusted after by every girl in school. Emma had discovered the truth. A paltry few inches that he knew nothing about how to use, and no stamina, no control. Human or mutant, Emma found most men unequal to the task of satisfying her. They barely even gave her time to warm up.
