Chapter 1: The neighbours
Emma sat at her desk, the cursor blinking on a blank document she was supposed to be working on. Her university paper sat forgotten as her eyes lingered on a page of erotica—a story about an older woman gently coaxing a younger woman to undress. The scene played out vividly in her mind: the older woman's gaze lingering on the girl's bare skin, circling her, admiring the firmness of her breasts, the tension in her body, the quiet power in her touch.
Emma's hand slipped across the waistband of her shorts, her breath catching. She imagined what it would feel like—those fingers on her, warm breath at her neck. Through the window, Steph was tending to her garden next door, sunlight falling across her shoulders. Emma's thoughts shifted, the heat in her body rising, her fingers drifting lower—until a sudden knock at the door snapped her back to the present.
"Are you going to Uni today, Emma?" her mother called from the hallway.
With a sigh, Emma rose from her desk and opened the door, trying to compose herself.
Her mother's eyes dropped disapprovingly. "You should really wear a bra. I hope you don't turn up to class like that."
Emma stepped out into the front yard, letting the morning air cool her frustration. I like how it feels, she thought, the T-shirt, the breeze—no bra today, that's for sure.
Across the fence, Steph waved. "Hey, gorgeous. Feel like a coffee?"
Emma's mood lifted instantly. She skipped down the steps and met Steph at the front gate.
"Coffee sounds perfect," she said, eyes trailing over Steph's athletic figure. The yoga pants didn't hide much—and Emma didn't try too hard not to look. The story she was reading flickered back in her mind and she really wanted to reach out and run her hands over Steph's sexy bottom.
As Emma opened the front door and they stepped into the kitchen, laughter followed them in. Their banter was easy, familiar—they genuinely enjoyed each other's company.
"It's been a full-on morning," Steph said, setting her bag on the bench. "What have you been up to?"
Emma moved to the kettle, trying not to hesitate. She'd been curled up reading something far steamier than textbooks, but decided to keep that to herself.
"Just studying," she replied casually.
As Steph handed her a mug, Emma noticed her eyes linger—just briefly—on the shape of her nipples pressing through her T-shirt. Emma gave a soft smile in return. Their friendship had grown quickly. They'd started hanging out for coffee, then came movie nights, shopping trips, long talks that drifted into evening. There was something effortless between them—something warm, maybe even charged.
As they chatted, the sound of keys hitting the hallway side table signalled Mick's arrival. He strode in with easy confidence, gave Steph a warm hug, and planted a playful, lingering kiss on her lips.
"Stop it—we have a guest," Steph said, laughing as she gently pulled away.
Mick turned to Emma, who hadn't looked away. "She might enjoy the show," he teased with a wink.
Emma smiled into her coffee, the heat from the mug no match for the flicker of curiosity in her thoughts.
Conversation picked up again, the three of them slipping into a relaxed rhythm. Emma liked Mick—tall, effortlessly attractive, with a sculpted frame that didn't feel overdone. He had a mop of thick dark hair and those hands—strong, steady, the kind you noticed.
Mick kept his arm around Steph as they stood beside the bench. Together, they looked at Emma with amused affection.
"You really need to get out more," Mick said, grinning. "You're a total hottie—find yourself a man already."
Emma rolled her eyes with a smirk. "I'm a broke student trying to finish the year. Dating isn't exactly on the syllabus."
"Well," Mick said, "we're heading down South next weekend. Just a couple of days, beach, wine, lazy mornings."
Steph chimed in, eyes bright. "You should come with us, seriously. It'll be fun."
Emma hesitated, caught off guard. "No, I couldn't... it's your getaway."
Steph wasn't taking no for an answer. "Come on, it's all paid for—wine, food, a house by the beach. You'll love it."
For Emma, the weekend couldn't come fast enough. Reclining in the back seat of Mick and Steph's car, she watched the coast roll by and wondered where the next few days might lead.
The house they'd rented was stunning—expansive ocean views, a sleek kitchen, an airy lounge, and even a private pool. As they carried their bags inside, Mick wrapped an arm around Steph.
"I'm Going to catch a quick wave. You two okay here?" He didn't wait for an answer, grabbing his board and disappearing out the door with a grin.
In his absence, the girls unpacked the food and opened a chilled bottle of wine. Steph handed Emma a glass.
"Fancy a swim?" she asked, already smiling.
The water was warm, the afternoon sun lingering on their skin. It was the first time Emma had seen Steph in swimwear—her full curves held snug in a bikini top, the G-string leaving little to the imagination.
Emma, more reserved, wore a simple black one-piece she used for laps at Uni. She was a strong swimmer, slicing easily through the water as they floated and talked about everything and nothing.
After a while, they climbed out and stretched out on the loungers. Steph unclipped her top and let it fall away. "No one can see us out here," she said. "My boobs deserve some sun."
Emma laughed and peeled off her suit entirely. "They're always cold against my skin anyway."
They lay in silence for a moment, wine glasses nearby, soaking up the sun. Emma watched as Steph began to smooth sunscreen across her arms and thighs, her movements slow, almost meditative. When she reached her chest, her fingers lingered, circling her nipples with just enough pressure to make Emma's breath catch.
"Would you mind doing my back?" Steph asked softly, breaking Emma's stare.
She handed Emma the lotion and rolled onto her stomach. Emma straddled the edge of the lounger, her hands working gently across Steph's shoulders, her neck, down her spine. She paused at the small of her back—then kept going. When she reached her hips, Steph shifted, parting her legs slightly as Emma moved to her thighs.
Steph let out a quiet moan, just audible enough to arouse Emma's pussy.
Emma lay back down on the sun lounge, her skin still tingling from the heat. Her breath came shallow, her body quietly alive beneath the sun.
Then she felt Steph's hands, soft against her back.
"Can't have you getting burnt now, can we?" Steph whispered near her ear.
She moved with slow care—starting at Emma's neck, her fingers tracing the line of her shoulders, gliding down her arms, across her back. When she reached Emma's hips, she lingered, spreading the lotion with long, smooth strokes. Her hands cupped the curve of Emma's bottom before moving to her legs, steady and sure.
As she finished, Steph leaned in close. "You have a beautiful body," she said softly, almost reverently.
Emma didn't reply. The sun, the wine, and the warmth of Steph's hands had lulled her into a gentle haze. She drifted into sleep with the scent of coconut oil and sea breeze still clinging to her skin.
She woke to the distant thud of the front door and the unmistakable sound of Mick dropping his surfboard by the deck.
Startled, Emma wrapped herself in a towel and slipped quietly inside, retreating to her room with her pulse still unsteady and her thoughts spinning.
The room was cool and dim, the curtains fluttering gently with the sea breeze. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, towel still wrapped around her, her skin still damp with lotion—and memory.
She pressed her palms into her thighs, grounding herself. What just happened by the pool wasn't exactly planned, but it hadn't felt wrong either. If anything, it felt dangerously right.
She changed into a loose T-shirt and shorts, tied her hair up, and made her way back into the kitchen. The scent of roasted garlic and grilled vegetables filled the air—Mick had taken over cooking. He stood shirtless at the stove, flipping something in a pan, muscles flexing as he moved. Steph sat on the counter, barefoot, wine in hand, chatting easily with him.
"Beauty returns," Steph grinned when she saw Emma. "You missed the wine refill."
"I needed it," Emma replied, offering a smile as she slipped into a chair.
Mick turned around, his eyes flicking over her briefly—curious, maybe, or just observant. "You girls have a good afternoon?" he asked casually.
Emma glanced at Steph. There was a flicker of something unspoken between them. "Yeah," Emma said simply. "It was nice."
Dinner was served on the deck, the sky melting into soft lavender and gold. They ate and laughed, the wine flowing more freely now. The tension between the three of them was subtle but alive—humming just beneath the surface.
At one point, Steph reached across to refill Emma's glass, and her fingers brushed Emma's hand. The touch lingered a beat too long. Mick noticed. Emma saw it in the way he looked between them, an unreadable smile playing at his lips.
Dinner was fun and they chatted like old friends. Emma sensed that they had been talking about her. Steph was being very touchy with her and Emma loved it.
Later that evening, they settled in for a movie Steph had picked—something indie and slow-burning. The wine had left them loose and relaxed, limbs draped comfortably across cushions, warmth shared between them.
