No-one really liked Emma. She just seemed to have drifted into the group by accident. They had met, originally, when expecting babies at an ante-natal class, had bonded, and now, almost ten years later, were a firm social group, often involving their partners and children. Emma had split with her partner, and her son now lived with him, because, she said, she was 'focused on her career'. Her career as an administrator in a local factory.
Maybe it was because Emma was on her own that she clung to the group. Somehow, she always found out where and when they were meeting, and would wander in 'fashionably late', as if making a special guest appearance, awaiting adulation from the group. They were polite, which must have massaged her fragile ego.
That was why the small group was set up on a messaging app. Finally, somewhere to chat, away from Emma. Sadly, it still did not stop her appearing whenever they met. Someone MUST have been telling her.
The biggest problem was that she seemed to be very financially well off. She had a large house, designer clothes, an annoying small dog, a fancy car and some new body modification every time they saw her. She had magnificent hairstyles, pouting lips, fake tan (as orange as some politicians - and equally fake), tattoos, a tummy tuck, buttock lifts and breast implants - and all despite the personal trainer who visited her once a week to ensure she kept in shape.
When she walked into a room, every head turned, the men took in her stunning figure, looked at her sculpted face and coiffed hair, along with the layers of make-up, and after brief admiration, turned away. She looked high maintenance and artificial. As one husband in the group said: "If she was as hot as she thinks, the plastic'd melt."
Her values might have been fine with other superficial groups, but not the ante-natal group. Most were full-time mums or had part-time jobs to allow time for family. Their husbands had a range of jobs, from University lecturers on adequate salaries to factory workers, barely making ends meet. In the current financial crisis, all were struggling, but smiling, getting by as best they could, without excess spending and putting the needs of their families first.
The final straw was when she seduced one of their husbands. The marriage had not survived. The group learned later that, in all honesty, the marriage had been hanging by a thread anyway. He had shown little interest in his wife since their child was born, and had barely been there as a parent - he was either 'working late' or in the pub.
Emma had appeared in the pub one evening, and, according to witnesses (as both husband and wife were regulars), made a beeline for him. She was very 'touchy-feely', showed him her tattoos and, when he had imbibed several pints, began running her hand up and down his thigh, so close to the top that she must have touched his genitals. She had taken him outside, stating loudly that they were going to her house for a while.
Mary, his wife, had not been too bothered. She said that it was nice not to have two children to sort out every day, although she was livid with Emma for the ostentatious way she had handled the seduction. Both she and her husband had looked like fools, and she felt very uncomfortable about going to the pub again - a pub which she had visited a couple of times a week before that.
They met every month, wearing their outfits bought from supermarkets or charity shops, either for a walk or a coffee or - very occasionally - at the pub. Often partners would stay at home, but, just occasionally, they too would join in, especially if the meeting was in the daytime.
When the group met, things would begin with everyone chatting, then split off into male and female groups - the men discussing sport, work and bad jokes, while the women began talking about their children, before moving on to the inadequacies of their partners and their declining sex lives.
Then Emma would arrive. She would flit between the groups, seeking approval from the men while telling them about her latest body modification or showing them her tattoos (some were low on her breasts, others on her buttocks, one close to her groin) and regaling the women with tales of her lurid sex life, carried out via a swinging website, and her latest clothing/jewellery/holiday extravagance.
So the messaging group was established. Emma regularly featured in the conversations, with casual suggestions as to how to deflate her artificially inflated self-esteem. Gradually, however, these stopped being jokes, and became more forceful, and more real. It was Judy who eventually came up with an idea which met with approval, and steadily, the trap was set.
The get-together was going well. It was lovely weather in early Summer, and they had decided to go for a walk. Emma had appeared at the last minute in her usual designer outfit. She spent fifteen minutes telling Helen, Kathy and Karen how her clothing was made of recycled goods by a marvellous company and only cost a hundred and fifty pounds. For shorts, a t-shirt and gilet, that seemed absurd - until she added, in a stage whisper, when a couple of the men were close, that her underwear was far more expensive.
She then dropped back to talk to one of the men.
"So how much did your underwear cost?" He asked.
"Well," Emma smirked, "my bra was almost two hundred pounds, and my knickers were a hundred and twenty. Mind you, I'm happier with them off, to be honest."
Steve decided to ignore the hint and looked miserable. "I wish Judy'd wear something like that. Her bras are like scaffolding and her knickers are faded cotton with holes in the gusset and knackered elastic."
Emma laughed.
"No, really," said Steve, she doesn't make any effort. I've given up on any..." He stopped, aware that he might be giving too much information.
"Don't worry," encouraged Emma, "you can tell me. I'm very open-minded." She giggled. "I met a couple last week who were into all sorts. We did some bondage, anal, me and the wife had some fun. I'm bisexual, you know. Then we were both spanked. After that, we played some more and he had sex with both of us. I love being tied up, y'know - and spanked. It's a lot of fun. Have you tried it?"
Steve admitted he hadn't, but wished he could. "Judy's just not interested. Even if she were, we'd never do anything like that. With her, it's always been just a quickie, turn over, go to sleep. Half the time, we didn't take out pyjamas off."
"Oh dear," Emma tittered. "I would've offered to join you and give you a few tips, but sounds like she wouldn't be interested. Shame. You're a good-looking man, and she's OK. A bit flabby since the kids, and could've done a bit more to keep in shape, but OK. I'd have been happy to play with you. You should look up my profile."
She mentioned both the website and her user name - 'starlet 97' - and smiled, seductively. Well - Steve thought it was a smile - with all her botox, it was hard to be sure.
"Thanks," he smiled, wanly, "frankly, I have considered looking elsewhere, but I couldn't do it to the kids."
"There's plenty of married blokes on the site," Emma continued, "just a matter of being careful, really." She winked and strolled off to share her wisdom with Jane.
A few days later, Steve smiled. He had thought Emma was just teasing, but his message had received a reply.
"Hey. Glad you made it. If you decided to meet, let me know. We can be very discreet x"
Steve smiled to himself. He had registered on the site the day after his conversation with Emma, and immediately gone to her profile. She was offering herself as a twenty-six year old (seriously? Her son was ten), natural blonde (really?), with perfect curves (created in an operating theatre), up for anything 'with the right man, woman or couple'. Apparently, she liked bondage, anal, bdsm, adult parties, sex clubs, photos, videos, dressing up, exhibitionism and a few other choice activities.
Steve noted that she was 'open to persuasion' (presumably a euphemism for payment) and 420 friendly. He looked it up - it meant using drugs. The main emphasis was that everything was a one-time deal. She was determined to experience 'as much as possible and as many as many as possible'.
Steve had decided to send her a message - just to let her know he had followed his suggestion - saying:
"Hi. Thought I'd have a look here. It's amazing. Seem to be a lot of single men here, but I might get lucky. I've put up some pics, but think they might be a little tame, having looked at the others. Might do some naughtier ones - not good with selfies though. Just going to be careful, chat and maybe meet someone eventually. Not just yet though. Take care. Steve"
His profile had been quite vague - 'Just trying this out, but would love to meet easy-going lady for NSA fun. Might need to chat a bit as I'm quite nervous, but genuinely want this. I'm polite and respectful and very discreet. Never had complaints about my sexual performance. I play sports and am quite fit with an athletic body.'
He could sort it out later as he went along.
He took some photographs of his torso, and found some of himself on the beach. He also added a couple that Judy had taken of him in boxer shorts one night when they had been drunk and taken sexy photos of each other (they had ended up with sets of full naked photos, performing sexual acts, which had been a lot of fun). These clearly showed the outline of his semi-erect penis, and made it look quite impressive.
Emma's photos put his to shame. They looked professional. She wore a bikini, lingerie, all manner of sexy clothing, yet, surprisingly, none were too revealing, unlike many on the site, and there were none of her face. Some might have wondered if the photos had simply been downloaded from elsewhere, but Steve recognised the tattoos. They were definitely Emma, and he felt embarrassed looking at them.
Over the next few weeks, the messages flowed between them. Emma wanted Steve to upload more intimate photographs, but he said he was not ready. She offered to take the photos, saying he could take some of her, offering to pose naked. She said it could just be a photoshoot, nothing more if he preferred. He liked the idea, as photography was one of his hobbies, and said he would think about it. He had plenty of photos of himself naked - but...
Steve dug out his camera. He hadn't used it in a while. His chats with Emma had sparked his interest again, and he cleaned his lenses and camera body, recharged the batteries and started rediscovering his passion. He took photos around the house, went into the local countryside and even took a few in more populous settings in town and even the local supermarket. As he looked at the results, he decided he was actually quite good.
Still the messages flowed, Steve's agonising did not seem to frustrate Emma, and when the group met up on one occasion, she made a point of taking him aside and flirting, showing him a tattoo on her buttock, and another on her breast, which was so close to her nipple, he could actually see her areola. Only when Judy called him did he move away from her.
Finally, after almost two months, he sent a message.
