Emma Ch. 03

"Really? Because back in Australia, you seemed ready to murder any photographer you saw."

"That was then. These past few months have done wonders for me."

I'm not entirely sure what I was anxious about; the paparazzi, meeting Emma's family and friends, the yearning I suddenly had to go back to my own family and friends or the notion that Emma might be getting tired of our globetrotting. Once again, it was as if Emma could read my mind (and after all our time together, she probably could) and said,

"Look, I just want a couple of days in London to recharge and then we're off again. I want to go somewhere where there's sunshine and in case you don't know, London sunshine is an oxymoron. I need to work on my tan; I'm starting to feel pale and pasty."

I smiled and was just a tiny bit relieved and replied, "You're beautiful. Besides, you're British; pale and pasty is a given."

"Guilty. But I'm getting sick of walking around with stiff nipples poking through my shirts so I say after we're done with London, we find ourselves a beach."

"Back to Mykonos?" I suggested.

"Nah, I know a place," Emma replied.

***

10 DAYS LATER

"Okay, you were right. Caribbean beats Switzerland," I said as I stretched back on the beach towel and closed my eyes.

"Chocolates and expensive watches have nothing on sunshine and crystal clear waters."

"That reminds me, I think I accidentally left one of my watches back in the hotel room in Geneva."

"Which one? Not the Breitling I hope," asked Emma.

"No, the Omega."

"Ah, no big deal; that only cost 700 euro. I'll buy you another one," Emma replied nonchalantly.

"Yeah, 'only' 700," I mumbled.

It was nice to be able to be alone with Emma again after London. If I'm being honest, I was glad to have left. The city itself was great. Being able to see Buckingham Palace and Big Ben went a long way to crossing a few more things off my bucket list. However, Emma seemed far too comfortable there for my liking. I know it sounds selfish, and it almost certainly is, but for the days we spent in London, I was beginning to wonder if she would want to leave. I met some of her friends and played the part of the boyfriend, although we both agreed it was best for me to not meet her parents. Still, Emma enjoyed herself and seemed happy to be among family and friends after all our time alone together. She seemed so happy that for a lot of the time, she seemed to forget I was there. I don't hold it against her of course, she'd been away from home for a long time. So had I for that matter.

But none of that really bothered me, not least because I knew it was a bit selfish to expect to be the focal point of her attention 24/7. What bothered me was even when the paparazzi inevitably caught wind of our presence, we still stayed there in London for an extra three days. For those few days, Emma had gone back to reality, and in stark contrast to the Emma I had met in Sydney, the attention from paparazzi didn't seem to bother her at all. When we were at Heathrow getting ready to leave, she was noticeably quiet. Part of my worried she was getting sick of all our extended furlough which to this point still had no end date. However, the Caribbean sunshine seemed to lift her mood and several cocktails later and we were back to doing what we did best, sight-seeing, shopping and sex.

I was distracted by my thoughts when I felt a thin piece of material fall between my fingers. With my eyes still closed, I fumbled around with it for a moment before realising what it was. I opened my eyes and looked to my left to see Emma beside me, topless and soaking in the rays of the sun.

"That's bold of you," I said as I gawked at her. "I know this is a topless beach but is that a good idea?"

"Have you seen one phone or camera since we got here?"

"No. It's a private beach, there's a ban," I said.

"Then it's a great idea," she replied.

It made sense I guess. This beach was part of a luxury resort that we had an all access pass to; a pass that in Emma's own words was "expensive, even by my standards". Privacy was guaranteed.

"Besides, I've heard from friends who've done this. They've never had a problem," Emma continued.

"Which friends? Famous friends?" I asked with avid interest.

"Maybe," she replied teasingly.

I looked at her again; her hair wild and untamed, her breasts bare and in full view, her perfect skin shining in the sunlight and wearing nothing but bikini bottoms and a pair of large sunglasses. She looked utterly perfect. I looked around the beach and while Emma drew a couple of stares, they were mostly innocent and there was not a camera in sight. Emma has always said she craves normalcy and anonymity; this wasn't quite that, but it was close enough.

"You're staring," Emma said.

"Can you blame me?"

"Aren't you sick of me by now?"

"I could never get sick of you."

"This is a nude beach Nate. Consider this the only time where I won't get angry if you snuck a peek at another girl's tits," Emma said before raising her hand and pointing to the water. "For example, there's a smashing blonde over there with what must be double D's frolicking in the water."

Even with the sunglasses on, I could tell Emma was looking directly at me as she said this. Despite my sudden interest in the topless blonde in question, I didn't avert my gaze and kept my eyes firmly on her.

"Not interested," I replied.

"If I recall, there's also stunning dark haired girl about 30 metres behind us with very perky tits," she said teasingly.

"Her boyfriend took off his bathers about 5 minutes ago which kinda spoils the view, and in any case, not interested."

"Well then surely you'd enjoy watching that very exotic blonde over there. She's not even wearing-"

"Not interested," I said, cutting her off.

Emma peered over the top of her sunglasses and said, "Seriously. Even I'm tempted to have a roll around in the hay with her."

I laughed, "Now THAT, I'd be interested in. But you're still all I need."

I leaned over and kissed her. Her lips were as soft as supple as ever. I was suddenly overcome with lust and unconsciously moved my hand to her belly before slowly moving up between her breasts, pushing both of them aside. Emma let out a pleasurable sigh and before I knew what I was doing, my hand had slid down to her belly again and begun to move into her bikini bottoms as I felt her pubic hair on the tips of my fingers. Emma moaned softly before grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away.

"This may be a nude beach Nate, but I think they draw the line at finger banging."

I gave her a quick peck on the lips before lying back down beside her. We were silent for a moment, taking in the sun and savouring the sounds of the beach, from the waves lapping onto the shore, to the volley ball game in the distance to the seagulls up above. After a full minute, Emma suddenly said,

"It may not be a Swiss hotel pool, but I bet we could have some fun down in the water."

"Can I invite the blonde?" I said with a cheeky smile.

Emma laughed out loud as she stood up, baring her perky breasts bare for all to see. She extended me a hand and added, "How about for now, we leave the blonde out."

"For now?" I asked.

Emma laughed again and without another word, made her way towards the water. I ran after her.

***

TWO DAYS LATER

The sound of Emma's phone vibrating on the glass coffee table shook me out of me sleep. The only other sound was the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. I groggily sat up and looked at the clock; it was 3:05 am. I collapsed on the pillow again and mumbled:

"Someone's calling again."

"They'll hang up," she murmured, clearly having also been woken up.

"It's the third time tonight. I think they're gonna keep calling."

"Fine," she groaned.

With my eyes still closed, I could feel Emma climbing off the bed. I listened as her heavy footsteps walked across the room and pick up the phone.

"It's Wendy," Emma said.

Wendy was Emma's publicist. I had met her during both of Emma's trips to Australia.

I could already feel myself drifting back to sleep but still managed hear Emma talking on the phone as well as Wendy's soft and undiscernible voice coming from the phone's speaker.

"Wendy, is this important? It's 3 am where I am," Emma said. There was a short pause before Emma replied testily, "No I haven't. Because I'm in the bloody Caribbean and it's 3 am."

Another pause. Emma sighed as her frustration grew but eventually I could hear her mumbling "okay okay". As they continued to talk, I felt sleep overcome me. However, it must have only been for a few seconds because suddenly I heard Emma called out,

"Oh my God!"

Despite the obvious concern in her voice, I was just too tired to care.

"Oh my God!" Emma called out even louder.

My eyes opened again as I sat up wearily in time to see Emma walking back in holding her iPad.

"Shit!" Emma shouted.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Without a word, Emma threw the iPad onto the bed as she continued to speak into her phone.

"What do I do?"

I picked up the iPad and looked at the image on screen. For a moment, I thought it was some kind of sleazy internet advert. But as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the image became familiar and it carried a nasty implication. The picture was of Emma and I sunbathing on the beach two days ago. I wore my swimming trunks and Emma wore her bikini bottoms; she ONLY wore bikini bottoms. I looked at the other images that were on the webpage and saw many variations of the same image, but there was one constant, Emma was topless. I looked up at Emma and said,

"Put your phone on speaker."

Emma looked at me for a moment; it was dark, but I could tell that all the colour had drained from her face. She had a reputation to maintain. This vacation of ours was meant to take her away from the limelight and into obscurity for a few months. With this latest turn of events, we had clearly failed. Emma pressed a button on her phone before tossing it onto the bed. Suddenly, Wendy's voice rang out loud and clear.

"Wendy, I just put you on speaker phone, Nate is here with me," Emma said as she sat down on the bed with her head in her hands.

"Hi Nate," Wendy said.

"Hey. What do we do about this?" I replied

"Can I assume from your reactions that that is you in the photos?"

"Yeah, it's me," Emma said glumly.

"Well, we have three options. Confirm it's you in the photos and release a statement, deny or keep quiet. If we do any of the first two, we can get the lawyers involved."

"Why would I confirm it?" Emma said.

"You control the story. The media will make it more about your invasion of privacy than your sordid Caribbean getaway. It might generate more sympathy for you that way."

I continued to stare at the photos as Emma and Wendy continued to talk. Part of me was angry at the invasion of privacy, another part of me was just the tiniest bit aroused by the sight of me making out with Emma. The photos were blurry and clearly taken from a distance, but were still damning. The only saving grace was that there didn't seem to be any pictures of our more amorous activities in the water. Also, Emma's glasses were so large they-

"They cover half your face," I said, finishing my thought out loud.

"Pardon?" Emma asked.

"Those sunglasses of yours, they cover half your face."

"So what?!" Emma replied impatiently.

"So, Wendy look at the photos objectively and tell me you can really identify Emma in these photos."

"It IS me in those photos," Emma replied.

"But can you be identified? All I see is a young girl, early twenties, about 170 centimetres, dark hair and wearing sunglasses that cover up half of her face. The photos are so blurry you can't make out any real detail. I can't see your freckles or any real detail in the lower half of your face. I mean, it's not like you have any distinguishing features. I mean, Wendy, isn't the whole reason for your call to make sure those picture are of Emma."

Emma picked up the iPad and looked at it carefully. After a few moments, she seemed a bit calmer and asked,

"Wendy?"

A few moments of silence followed before Wendy's voice came through the speaker, "He's right. It certainly looks like you but it's far from definitive. And you're right Nate, I wasn't 100% when I first saw them. But I need to know, did you take your glasses off at any point?"

"I don't know, maybe. We were there for awhile."

"Wendy, are these all the photos?" I asked.

"Apparently. I'd have to think that if there were any that clearly identified Emma, they would've been posted."

So what do we do?" asked Emma anxiously.

"I say we stay quiet a couple of days and see what the response is from the public. If a lot of people are also sceptical and newspapers refuse to print the photos, then we deny and release an official statement. You could even send out a joke tweet on your Twitter account making light of the whole thing. We can control this."

"Okay, that's sound good."

There was a moment of silence on the phone followed by a deep breath before Wendy said:

"Emma, I understand why you need this vacation and I'm not about to lecture you again on how this might effect your reputation or your career. But I just want to tell you that you need to be more careful."

"It was one slip up Wendy," Emma sighed.

"I know, but be careful. Which reminds me; next time you two want to get drunk in a Madrid nightclub, it helps preserve anonymity if you don't buy everyone drinks. And it's not my business, but staying inside a Geneva hotel room for six straight days creates a lot of gossip amongst hotel staff."

"You know about all that?" Emma asked.

"And the drunken night spent on a beach in Mykonos and your amorous activities onboard a Eurail train and a whole bunch of other interesting pieces of gossip. I'm a good publicist and I've had my work cut out for me these past few months. It's a miracle I've kept things so quiet in the media with the time you two have been having."

"Thanks Wendy," Emma and I both said at once.

"Goodnight you two."

Wendy hung up and Emma and I were both left staring at each other and thinking back on our time together and what other occasions we may have been sloppy. Emma angrily snatched up the iPad and sat down on a chair in the corner and began to furious type away on the screen.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Booking the first flight out of this fucking country," Emma said in an uncharacteristically angry tone.

***

ONE WEEK LATER

"I can't believe you wanted to come here," I said as I stared out the window with excitement.

"What do you mean? You're the one who wanted to come here," Emma replied in a mildly curt tone.

"I didn't think you would agree."

"It's fine, I've already booked our flight out of here for tonight. We'll be gone before any of those arseholes know we're here. I just hope you're okay with only spending one day in Los Angeles."

I looked at the taxi driver in front of us before leaning to one side and whispering to Emma,

"I don't mind. Besides, that's plenty of time for sightseeing, shopping," I said before adding suggestively, "And other things."

Emma rolled her eyes while simultaneously smiling widely. She didn't reply but instead just looked at me with a hint of judgment and more than a hint of arousal. I stared right back and said:

"What? I've been keen to fuck you on every continent."

Emma stifled a laugh and once more looked to see if the driver heard anything before replying, "We can discuss the logistics of that later, but in the meantime we'rehead to Rodeo Drive for a little shopping."

"Isn't that place really high class?"

Emma smiled, "Like I've said many times before Nate, I can-"

"You can afford it, I know," I said interrupting her.

Emma smiled before changing tone and saying, "By the way, I forgot to mention. I want to stop by Wendy's office later."

"She's in LA?"

"Yeah, she's a Hollywood publicist, she spends half her time here."

"She must be glad that whole topless photos thing blew over," I said.

"Not as glad as I am. I still can't believe we got away with it. I mean, I didn't think anyone could believe it was anyone other than me in those photos."

"Neither did TMZ. They were still running a "is it Emma Watson in those photos" poll as recently as yesterday," I said as Emma shook her head. I looked at her for a moment before adding, "I'll never make fun of your massive sunglasses again."

"Wendy said I should get them mounted and framed," Emma chuckled.

I chuckled before asking, "What time do we go see her?"

"Actually, I think I should go alone. I think Wendy might be more than a little bit annoyed with you. Something about you stealing her client's heart and being distraction to said client's career."

"Fair enough," I laughed. "You go see Wendy, I'll be out spending your money for you."

***

THREE DAYS LATER

LA was surprisingly uneventful. Fun, but uneventful. I got to see the one of the most famous cities in the world for the first time, Emma met up with Wendy and we both made use of Emma's credit card. Not to mention we didn't have one run-in with any paparazzi. We decided to stay in the States and currently found ourselves in Las Vegas, because, to quote Emma, "no one in Vegas so much as blinks at a deformed freak much less an actress who most of the internet didn't recognise when she had her tits out."

For the past two days, we've just been fine dining and gambling non-stop. And for the record, gambling with Emma is one hell of an experience. It was currently 2 am and we were stumbling through the door of our luxury suite at Caesars Palace

"How much of my money did you lose?" Emma asked as she kicked the door shut while simultaneously refilling her champagne glass.

"We," I corrected her. "We lost a bit over $5,000."

"We? It was my money," Emma said in a vaguely drunken tone.

"And you were the one who decided to double down on that last hand and then lost."

"I felt lucky," she shrugged before saying excitedly. "Let's go to the Bellagio again tomorrow. Caesars has been nothing but bad luck."

"I say we head to the roulette tables and drop everything on red."

"Define everything. I have very deep pockets."

I stumbled towards the bedroom, suddenly becoming acutely aware that I was just as drunk as she was.

"We should fuck," I blurted out.

Emma laughed. "How romantic."

"Is that a yes?" I asked without turning around.

The sound of the zipper on her dress being pulled down was all the answer I need. I smiled and walked into the bedroom. I sat down on the front of the bed and watched the door. Emma walked lightly across the carpet and entered the room wearing only her black bra and panties. I smiled as she walked over to me and stopped in front. I leaned forward and planted light kisses all along her belly while running my hands up and down her thighs. Every inch of her body felt so familiar by now. I knew ever curve, every detail and every imperfection of which there were very few. I'd touched those thighs many times, planted kisses on almost every area of her body. I knew her so well by now. I didn't think anything could ruin what we had; especially not 127 pieces of paper bound neatly together.

"Give me one minute," Emma said before giving me a kiss.

The smell of the alcohol on her breath lingered for a moment as Emma skipped into adjoining bathroom. I began to take off my shirt and moved further up the bed when I felt something beneath the covers. I reached underneath only to pull out a movie script. The mere sight of it filled me with dread. I ran my hands over the title on the front page and asked out loud,

"What's 'Two of Us'?"

"Pardon?" Emma replied distantly.