There was a layer of dust over everything in the shop when Emily first took the keys. It had stood unoccupied for over two months since it's last owner, Emily's husband Mike, had died.
Despite them being separated for over fifteen years, they'd never divorced. There was no particular reason, just neither of them had ever seen the need. Mike had done his bit without argument, sending most of the proceeds of this small newsagents which he'd manned single handedly, to Emily, who'd worked part-time whilst bringing up their only son, Stephen.
Mike hadn't been a bad man, but he was a bad husband. He drank and smoked and didn't have a lot of time for anyone else. They'd married in a hurry; Emile had become pregnant at a very young age -- too young. Things were different in the early seventies, but even then, a twenty-nine-year-old man getting a girl of Emily's young age pregnant was a bit scandalous.
Marriage seemed to make all of that fine, in the eyes of society. But an eighteen-year-old girl bringing up a baby with no help from her husband who worked twelve-hour days in his shop, briefly came home to eat whatever she managed to put together for his dinner, then went to the pub until bedtime each night, wasn't the recipe for a happy marriage.
After three years of very little enjoyment, they'd split. Mike had realised his responsibilities, so Emily had a home and an income. But whilst her friends were travelling, learning and doing young-people things, she was bringing up her little boy.
It was now 1993 and Mike's death came at a time when Emily's life was already changing. Stephen took after his father and left school at sixteen to take on an apprenticeship, and at the age of nineteen was already self-sufficient as a self-employed electrician. He'd moved out a year ago and was living with a nice girl, Shannon. Emily shuddered a bit when she realised it was very likely she'd be a grandmother before she was forty.
But, in some ways she didn't regret anything. She'd sacrificed a lot of her best years, sure. But most of those schoolfriends who'd gone off to see the world were only now experiencing the joys of bringing up small children. They couldn't imagine of a time when they'd be able to go and see a film, go out to the pub or for a nice meal without having to worry about babysitters, homework, nappies or the school run.
After a whole day of cleaning, the shop was spotless. It was pitch-black outside; the clocks hadn't yet changed and it was after eight o'clock. Emily looked at herself in the full-length mirror by the door, which allowed the 'L' shaped shop to be fully visible from behind the counter. She looked quite dishevelled and dusty, but, though she said so herself, she looked pretty damn good.
Her usually glossy, slightly wavy black shoulder-length hair could do with a wash, and the old clothes she'd worn to clean up weren't flattering, but she thought, for thirty-six, she didn't look much different compared to ten or even twenty years ago. In fact, she thought, her body had filled out very nicely.
When Stephen had arrived, her breasts had increased in size by several cups. She did let herself go a bit, certainly until Stephen was into his teenage years, but in the last few years a gym membership and some sensible eating had given her a killer body.
She was quite pleased that her breasts had not reverted back to how they were when she'd met Mike. He'd called then 'bee stings' and she was quite self-conscious about her flat chest. Now she sported two very nice, firm, thirty-four 'D' cup tits, and they were probably her favourite feature. That's not to say she didn't like the rest of her, she knew she had good legs, a flat tummy and a pretty face.
So why was she single? The simple answer was that she wanted to be. Her encounter with Mike had taken some getting over, and she had no desire to commit to a relationship if that was an example of what was to be expected.
A couple of years ago, she'd had a brief, intense fling with a guy she'd met at the gym. Other than Mike, Pavel had been her only sexual partner in her life. She'd loved what they did, he was much more adventurous than Mike and introduced her to things which she'd read about, like oral sex, and having fun outside in the woods, which she couldn't get enough of.
Pavel had, after a couple of months of fucking Emily however and whenever he wanted, called things off and went back to his wife -- they'd been separated at the time of the fling. Emily heard through a friend that her appetite for sex, which he'd enjoyed at first, had spooked him a bit. Emily was available to fuck whenever he wanted, but that wasn't quite as much as Emily wanted, it turned out.
Pavel was a man who couldn't come to terms with the thought that he wasn't able to satisfy 'his woman', and that was the end of things. Emily couldn't understand this at all, and she was quite upset for some time afterwards. She'd liked Pav. She hadn't been demanding in any way, and was available for him, physically, to do whatever he wanted with her, whenever he fancied it.
There was no real commitment. This was a lovely arrangement for Emily, and she supposed it would be a nice deal for a man too, so she couldn't understand why it had to end. She didn't even really mind if he wanted to keep things going after returning to his wife. As far as she was concerned the sex was good and it didn't have to mean anything else.
This attitude wasn't one she shared with any of her friends, who irrevocably combined sex with love and commitment. Emily wondered if her experience of love at such a young age had scarred her somehow. She didn't think so, and she was very at ease with her feelings in this area, so it was a subject she just didn't bring up around her friends. It was 1993 after all, not the Victorian age.
A newsagent is a peculiar shop to stock. It turns out that if the doors close for a few weeks, most of the inventory becomes worthless -- last month's magazines and newspapers aren't any good to anyone. Emily had to learn fast. Helped by Mike keeping a very comprehensive contact book and set of accounts, she was able to get in touch with most key suppliers, and within a week she was ready to open again.
Newspaper deliveries arrived daily at the crack of dawn, and magazines, cigarettes and sweets arrived sporadically through the week. Emily soon learned that the delivery guys were usually willing to do a lot of the donkey work, especially for a pretty lady like her, and once she learned exactly where she wanted things to be placed, that took most of the physical work out of the equation.
Before long the shop was ticking over quite nicely. Emily thanked Mike, despite everything, for the lucrative little business he'd left her. It was plenty to provide all she needed, financially, and she was able to take on a part-time girl to do some hours through the week, and most of the weekend, so it afforded her quite a nice lifestyle. Typically, she'd work all the times deliveries were due, and would be running the shop alone for most of the week.
It was quite a social job, lots of the regulars would pop in daily for papers, cigs and the like. But there was a particular type of customer who wasn't so talkative. Mike's shop had stocked quite a range of 'girlie' magazines -- many more, Emily thought, than she'd seen in other newsagents.
When the supplier had suggested Emily repeat Mike's previous order, she'd been quite surprised to find that meant quite so many 'porn' magazines. In those days, the content was really quite tame. Nudity, yes. But very little of what you could call 'explicit'. Things were changing rapidly though, and content that pushed the boundaries of the law was published monthly.
Emily had sneaked a look through some of the magazines when filling the shelves. The more well-known titles tended towards safer content. Beautiful, sexily dressed girls would strip off and pose in positions which showed almost everything. But it was all quite tasteful.
She found it interesting that, despite the limited nature of the pictures, the written word appeared to have no such restrictions, and letters and stories depicted graphic sex acts with nothing left unmentioned.
The less well-known titles tended towards the slightly more risqué. Girls would typically look slightly less unattainable, and would adopt more explicit poses, with legs spread open and much more sharp focus on their private parts.
There was, Emily discovered, a surprising market for this material. She knew it existed, of course. But she'd had no idea just how many men (it was almost exclusively men, other than the odd broad-minded wife who picked up a copy of something for her husband) would buy this stuff.
She'd initially tried to sort them into different 'types'. Young, virginal lads who couldn't get a girlfriend. Old guys whose wife didn't take care of them anymore, divorced men etc. But it turned out that you couldn't spot a buyer of porn, it could be literally any man.
Emily found that she loved watching these guys and how they approached their purchase. Some would come in bold as brass, flick through the pages of several magazines before deciding on one, and purchase with a smile, sometimes getting a newspaper and some cigarettes. Others would be in and out in a flash, always when the shop was empty. Some would slip the illicit publication into their jacket, or inside a newspaper as they left.
This behaviour led to Emily questioning her own attitude to this stuff. There was a stigma around guys buying these magazines. During the many long, quiet times alone in the shop, she found herself researching the material, flicking through the pictures and reading the filthy stories. Her conclusion was that it was very much harmless.
Great fun, though -- she started putting herself in the place of these girls, in her mind. What must it be like, stripping off and baring all to a guy with a camera? And then those pictures being shown to the world, your most private assets available to whoever wanted to see, for a couple of quid. The thought gave her quite a buzz.
Emily found herself wondering whether this came from her own feelings towards sex in general. Her time with Pav had illustrated that her attitude to sex was different to a lot of women's. She had no problem with seeing sex as a fun recreational activity. This was, it seemed, much more of a male attitude than a female one.
As the weeks and months went by, Emily got to know her regulars a bit more. She continued to take a keen interest in 'The Pervs', as she affectionately called them. It wasn't a conscious decision, but she found herself trying to put the nervous guys at ease, smiling and chatting to them, as if to show that she, at least, had no problem with their choice of entertainment.
"This one's really popular this month," she'd smile. Or "she's really lovely, isn't she?" commenting on the cover girl of the perv's choice. This seemed to go down well, and she found that repeat custom on the porn was increasing. There were regularly gaps on the top shelf towards the end of the month as she sold out of most titles.
Emily hadn't really considered why this might be. She hoped it might be her friendly, accepting attitude. But Vikesh, the delivery guy, who also took the re-orders for the magazines, had other ideas.
"We're selling this stuff really well," Emily had commented, as he'd wheeled in a large pile of the month's mags on his trolley.
"Yeah, funny that," Vik had smiled knowingly.
"What?"
