Emma

XLII

Tanya was beautiful. This was something about herself which she knew to be true and which she did her utmost to use to her best advantage. But beauty wasn’t everything. She was also ambitious and she was frustrated by her position as a junior presenter on the evening entertainment show on Harlot TV. Sure, she was lucky to have made it in television, even if it was sex television where standards were very low compared to mainstream television. She was convinced that her assets weren’t being used to their full. She knew that being filmed having sex on television wasn’t really stretching her talents at all. It was not enough that her producer kept promising her better things to her from the comfort of his sheets. Nor that she could see the effect her beauty had on her fellow presenters and guests. Not that the quantity of sperm that they spurted onto and into her wasn’t proof enough. Just the way they looked at her body was enough.

She knew better than most how to present herself. She took great care of her appearance. Her hair was cut and dyed by the best hairdresser she could afford: a pleasing blonde bob that emphasised the curve of her neck, the classical contours of her chin and cheeks and showed off her high forehead. She spent time and money on make-up which subtly enhanced her eyes and lips without overdoing it, like some of the sex television presenters who had none of the aesthetic sense of balance which ensured she didn’t look like a slut. And she was worldly enough to know that it was her body which represented her fortune in this corner (as it would be any other corner) of the sex industry. This she enhanced by a choice of clothes where the tops, however long the sleeves, stopped just below the nipples of her apple-shaped breasts, and a choice of skirts and shorts which showed off her long thin legs and hung low enough on her hips to show just how far down she shaved her crotch. A little bit further down or a little further up and she’d be revealing too much for the subtle effect of temptation she had nurtured to be effective. But what she always displayed was a midriff, with a perfect waist, a teardrop shaped navel and the contours of her hips. What she was saying, she knew, was that unless it meant business, what she had could be seen but not touched.

Her ambition left her somewhat lonely. None of her colleagues were anything other than competition for her, and no one in more senior positions to her in the television hierarchy was anything other than an object of envy or a stepping stone in her career. Most people sensed this, and left Tanya alone, which generally suited her fine. However, not everyone seemed aware of her aura, and none less than Emma, who worked as a producer on the station’s naturist programmes and as a commissioning editor for some of the station’s more prestigious programmes: whose high pretensions were matched by equally low ratings. But Emma was as blissfully unaware of this as she seemed to be of Tanya’s sexual aura. Tanya was aware of this, as Emma looked at her with exactly the same kind of unobservant, uncritical eye as she did with everyone else, even the fucking make-up girls or the cameramen.

This fascinated Tanya. It particularly fascinated her, as Emma’s sexual proclivity towards women was well known on the station. And she could see that the main focus of Emma’s attention was the slutty Maisie who’d once been on a television sex soap opera, but was now presenting a sex programme with Rochester, a male presenter. She also knew that Emma’s relationship with Maisie couldn’t possibly be exclusive. It was common knowledge that Maisie was spreading herself thinly amongst the male and female presenters and actors of Harlot TV, both on-screen and off. It was certain that Emma also knew of this, and Tanya found it unimaginable that an attractive woman like Emma wouldn’t also be doing much the same thing, but in a perhaps more discreet way.

It was difficult to think of anything that Maisie and Emma had in common with each other, except the habitual nudity, which in Emma’s case was like some kind of a fucking religion and in Maisie’s was just a kind of carelessness. They were certainly nowhere near the same age. And Emma possessed a quite different ethos with regards to how she comported and expressed herself. It was unlikely that she would share any of the enthusiasms that Maisie displayed on Wasted! every Monday and Wednesday night. All that fast, frantic, noisy dance music. All those wacky fashions. And all those infantile sex games that featured so highly on the programme.

Tanya stood behind the cameras on the set of Wasted! not really thinking of anything at all, except perhaps of her contempt for all the foolishness that was going on. Maisie was fellating the singer of some fairly puerile pop song, dressed only in a pair of absurdly high-heeled yellow trainers, with her mass of curly hair teased in peculiar directions by a bizarre selection of hair clips. However, even Tanya had to admit that Maisie had a certain amount of technical skill: bringing the singer to ejaculation at just the right point in the dance tune that was running over it, letting the semen arch onto her chest without messing up the discreet make-up on her nipples.

She then watched as Maisie effortlessly returned to the microphone with Rochester, betraying her sexual excitement in the breathiness of her voice, where she announced the appearance of the next guest, who was an actor on IVY Grove, a sex soap opera which was particularly popular at the moment. She turned around to leave when she saw Emma standing nearby watching Maisie with a peculiarly sad expression. Tanya frowned, a little puzzled by Emma’s expression, but sensing that it must illustrate some disconcertment for Maisie’s chosen career. But how was she to express the right degree of sympathy without it seeming contrived?

“That Maisie is very talented,” she offered as a comment to Emma, who started abruptly. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice her there. And who was this woman? She vaguely recognised Tanya as one of the many minor television presenters at Harlot TV, whom she rarely bothered to acknowledge. She smiled at Tanya, and returned her attention to Maisie.

Tanya was not going to be dismissed that easily. “I’m sure I’ve seen Maisie in something else. A long time ago. I can’t remember what…” Emma turned her head back to Tanya, clearly unsure how not to be rude to this woman. “What was it? King’s Cross? Time Square?”

“Nothing as good as that,” Emma replied, clearly provoked by Tanya’s recollection of two low-ratings, high art sex dramas that she’d commissioned. “It was St. Denis Road. That was long before the scandal with the producer and that horse brought the series to an end.”

“Well, I wasn’t really much of a viewer,” lied Tanya, who had a weakness for soap operas. “I’m sure she was very good in that.”

“Not really,” said Emma, returning her gaze to a television set on the wall that screened the action on the set. Tanya judged that that was all she was going to get out of this conversation, so she discreetly left Emma to her own concerns.

However, Tanya was nothing if not persistent. She made a point of greeting Emma whenever they passed on the corridor, which at first surprised Emma but to which she eventually became accustomed. She even signalled with her eyes some appreciation for Tanya’s beauty, which had taken fucking long enough. She even seduced Rochester, despite her relatively low opinion of him, so that she could find something about Maisie and her older lover, and also as an excuse to hang around the set of Wasted! This gave her more opportunities to talk to Emma, even though when the programme was over she would then have to spend time with this tedious Rochester and his views on whatever dance fashion was sweeping the clubs or whatever action movie was dominating the screens. She liked the fucking. Like most sex presenters, including Tanya, this was an area in which he undoubtedly excelled. It was the conversation that tried her patience. But she knew she now had an area of her life that she shared in kind with Emma.

Gradually, Emma paid more attention to her. And when she confided with Emma that she didn’t really understand her lover, which was true, she was a little surprised by how much Emma felt that she agreed. “I don’t know why I love Maisie at all. She splits me apart.”

Tanya took Emma’s warm hand in hers and sighed sympathetically. “Just as Rochester splits me apart,” she said sadly. Although, of course, even during anal intercourse, this wasn’t nearly something Rochester’s penis was really capable of doing. It was fine: quite long, just a little thin. But at least he didn’t ejaculate too soon like so many other lovers.

Tanya discovered that there was a naturist coffee bar not far from the studio where Emma occasionally went by herself at lunch times, and although she always thought of all that innocent nude cavorting that naturists were so keen on rather naff, if not thoroughly contemptible, she knew that this was the best place to get to talk to Emma away from the Harlot TV studios. So, one day, when she’d established that this was where Emma had gone, she went down the iron stairway to the small coffee bar just underneath a delicatessen. It had the insufferably smug name of Nature Calling and the staircase was decorated by arty poses of men and women in those outdoor locations that naturists seemed to like. She knew that her expensive clothes looked out of place amongst all the jeans and tee shirts hanging on the hangars in the cloakroom where she handed them after disrobing. And she knew that even without clothes, her immaculate make-up, her finely manicured nails and even the way she walked, so much more natural in a pair of high-heeled shoes, was also pretty much out of place as she strode across the ethnic rugs which covered the coffee shop’s wooden floor. She felt stroked by the gaze coming from the eyes of the naked men and women sitting on their tall stools that followed her imperious tread. Even though she always considered nudity a step beyond the degree of provocation she felt necessary to project, at least she didn’t look so fucking ridiculous as so many of the others with their hairy bums, their furry armpits and unhealthily pale skin. She looked after herself - even in the places where very few were permitted to view.

Tanya saw Emma sitting in a corner, a cup of cappuccino in one hand with her head leaning into a newspaper. She was disappointed that Emma hadn’t witnessed her triumphant entry and all the heads turning. Tanya strode to the counter and ordered herself a café macchiato, all the while looking at her reflection in the mirror behind the short stocky, but still naked, girl who was serving her. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to take their clothes off, Tanya mused focusing on a birthmark on the girl’s shoulder as she was served a cup. She then turned round to see Emma carefully turning a page of her newspaper. Good! Now to attract her attention. “Cooee! Emma!” she cried out walking towards her. “What a surprise to see you here!”

Emma glanced up startled. At first she didn’t recognise Tanya. Her own prejudices about textiles sometimes made it difficult to recognise anyone as distinct from their clothes. And the clothes Tanya wore were certainly distinctive, so much so that Emma thought of Tanya as the girl with the midriff. She always liked that midriff, and recognised that hiding the crotch and breasts emphasised the contours of the long serpentine length of her torso very well. But here she was nude. Although somehow not seeming nude. Even naked, it was clear that she paid extraordinary attention to her body. Even her crotch was razored short and in the shape of a tiny heart. It hadn’t been dyed the same blonde as the head on her hair though.

“What are you doing here?” Emma wondered, putting down the newspaper, and leaning forward over the table as Tanya eased herself onto the stool opposite. “I’d never taken you for a naturist.”

Tanya smiled, as her mind raced over the question. “No, I’m not. But I’ve often passed this place and wondered what it was like.” She stirred sugar from the sachet into her cup. “And anyway I’ve always been sympathetic to the naturist movement, “ she lied.

“Really?” wondered Emma with a grin. This really did not seem very likely to her. “Sympathetic in what way?”

“Well, it’s always seemed so … er … natural,” Tanya replied. “You know, not wearing clothes and everything. I mean, what could be more natural than … erm … than nudity. Baring everything. Erm. Feeling nature on the skin.” God! This was awful. Change the subject. “So, Emma, do you live near here?”

Emma started. She’d actually looked forward to a conversation about naturism, and wasn’t sure she was so keen about such a sudden change of tack. ”Not really. Why do you?”

“No, I live in the town centre. Right near the theatre district.” Ah good! A subject she could pursue a bit more fruitfully. “It’s very convenient for seeing plays, shows, films, almost anything. Are you interested in ... er … anything like that?”

And so it was in this way that Tanya persuaded Emma to come with her to see some nude dance production that was on near her. And dull it was too! No story that she could discern, although the programme gave some kind of a synopsis. It was just a lot of cavorting performed by a bunch of naked men and women, clearly chosen for their dancing ability rather than for their looks. The girls were so tiny, with similarly small breasts. And the men all seemed gay to her. She could more easily imagine them fucking each other than the women they were dancing with. And it was only in her imagination she could see any fucking. Despite all the bare flesh on stage, and all the manhandling, there was no sex at all, and the men’s penises remained disappointingly shrivelled. Although quite a few men and women in the audience were nude like Emma, thankfully she wasn’t in the minority in the designer outfit she wore. At least Emma seemed to like the show, and she even began to weep at one stage where one of the women dancers was performing some kind of dance to show her distress at her male lover leaving her. This was demonstrated by a lot of slumping onto the ground, throwing herself against other dancers and exaggerated arm movement. However, she took advantage of Emma’s tears to take her hand in her own and squeeze it comfortingly. Emma smiled at her through her tears, seemingly grateful for the sympathy that Tanya was expressing.

At long last, the ordeal was over, but not without the tedium of applauding the cast as they bowed and pirouetted on the stage as the curtain was drawn and redrawn. Couldn’t they just shut up and go home? Then at last out of the door and into the atrium.

“Oh! It was so sad!” weeped Emma, accepting Tanya’s arm around her shoulder.

Tanya resisted the opportunity to ask exactly how all that nonsense was meant to be sad, and instead took advantage of Emma’s vulnerability to kiss her full on the mouth. Emma didn’t resist, but she seemed somewhat surprised. “I didn’t know you were …?”

“Were what?”

“Well! Liked other women. I always thought you were…”

“I’ve always preferred the company of women,” lied Tanya who much preferred a good fucking to anything a woman could do, even with the assistance of rubber dildos and the like. “Especially a woman as beautiful as you…”

“But what about Rochester?”

“Rochester?” queried Tanya, thrown off guard. “Oh! Rochester! I don’t know.” She lowered her head onto Emma’s breast, the better to look upset. “I just don’t think there’s any future for us. He tears my heart apart, but I think he likes other women.” Tanya knew this was strictly true, but, in fact, she was beginning to be more than a little annoyed with his tenacious soppy clinging onto her. Couldn’t he just stop after the fucking, pack his clothes and leave her be, instead of insisting in telling her how much he loved her, and how she was so much better than all the other women. She’d already decided, after she’d finally persuaded him to let her poke his anus with a carrot, that she’d exhausted all that she’d ever wanted from him. “No, I think I prefer you much more to him.”

“Is that true?” wondered Emma, seeming almost grateful. Indeed, she’d come to appreciate Tanya’s physical beauty more and more while they were in the coffee shop, and had herself wondered what it might be like to make love with her. And this she soon came to find out, when Tanya escorted her back to her apartment just a couple of blocks away from the theatre. Past the concierge, up the elevator and then, after very little preparation, the two of them flung their bodies onto Tanya’s large and all-engulfing mattress and made rather loud and passionate love.

It was actually Tanya who was the most surprised at the lovemaking. Although she was surrounded by her own possessions, the photographic prints of film stars, a colour scheme of deep reds, blues and purples, and wading on the fluffy luxury of her pillows and duvet, she did not feel as much in control as she normally did. It was Emma who took the lead, bringing Tanya and herself to spasms of ecstasy that she’d never enjoyed with a woman before. Her tongue explored every crevice of Tanya’s golden skin, sometimes deep into the pink darkness of her vagina, tenderly activating her clitoris into a stiffness that none of her male lovers had achieved. Her fingers probed her arse and vagina, her flesh ground against the sweaty smoothness of her own. And Tanya was alarmed to find just how rough Emma could be: a roughness that she recognised in herself but was somehow reluctant to reciprocate. The pleasure of the licking, combined with the tugging of teeth on her nipples and labia. The tenderness of the stroking and caressing, contrasting suddenly with abrupt slaps on her arse and breasts. The penetration of her anus and vagina by tongue, fingers and full fist. She shook and shuddered as orgasms spread through her body expertly orchestrated by her naturist lover.

Tanya wasn’t so sure she liked this kind of love. She was used to being the one in control, but she could see that in matters of lesbian love, she was very much the novice. Emma had clearly had many many woman lovers and knew exactly how to ensure that they achieved the most pleasure that they could. And, of course, unlike men whose sexual abilities rarely stretched beyond twenty minutes, and in some cases a mere fraction of that, Emma had the capacity, the willingness, the stamina and the appetite to keep on for hours, while draining from Tanya almost all the will-power she possessed.

Morning came. The sun shone through the gap in Tanya’s curtains and onto Emma’s naked back as she lay fast asleep on the bed. Tanya examined Emma with a critical eye. There was no doubting Emma’s beauty, although she wasn’t that keen on the hairy armpits, the uncropped vagina and the light hairs on her legs. These bloody naturists! They just didn’t have any idea how so unseemly hirsuteness was. Couldn’t she even invest in a shaver? But then Emma’s dress sense was about as ghastly as it could be. She dressed, when she dressed at all, in the most functional way: one that would have made the most beautiful woman in the world appear plain

She also decided that this would be the last time she would allow Emma back to her place at night. After all, she had her own domestic arrangements to look after, and she didn’t appreciate the idea of Emma being around too often. It had been bad enough with Rochester, although it had often been quite easy to persuade him to go off to one of the many night clubs in the area with one of his many fans. After all, she had her two live-in lovers in the other bedroom to worry about, and although they were admirably discreet when Tanya brought her lovers back, chance meetings in the loo or on the stairs or in the kitchen could not be ruled out.